l due to the remark. Alban's
temper was once more severely tried. Mirabel's mischievous object had
not escaped his penetration. He did his best to put obstacles in the
adversary's way--and was baffled, time after time, with the readiest
ingenuity. If he interrupted--the sweet-tempered clergyman submitted,
and went on. If he differed--modest Mr. Mirabel said, in the most
amiable manner, "I daresay I am wrong," and handled the topic from his
opponent's point of view. Never had such a perfect Christian sat before
at Mr. Wyvil's table: not a hard word, not an impatient look, escaped
him. The longer Alban resisted, the more surely he lost ground in the
general estimation. Cecilia was disappointed; Emily was grieved; Mr.
Wyvil's favorable opinion began to waver; Francine was disgusted. When
dinner was over, and the carriage was waiting to take the shepherd back
to his flock by moonlight, Mirabel's triumph was complete. He had made
Alban the innocent means of publicly exhibiting his perfect temper and
perfect politeness, under their best and brightest aspect.

So that day ended. Sunday promised to pass quietly, in the absence of
Mirabel. The morning came--and it seemed doubtful whether the promise
would be fulfilled.

Francine had passed an uneasy night. No such encouraging result as she
had anticipated had hitherto followed the appearance of Alban Morris
at Monksmoor. He had clumsily allowed Mirabel to improve his
position--while he had himself lost ground--in Emily's estimation. If
this first disastrous consequence of the meeting between the two men was
permitted to repeat itself on future occasions, Emily and Mirabel would
be brought more closely together, and Alban himself would be the unhappy
cause of it. Francine rose, on the Sunday morning, before the table
was laid for breakfast--resolved to try the effect of a timely word of
advice.

Her bedroom was situated in the front of the house. The man she was
looking for presently passed within her range of view from the window,
on his way to take a morning walk in the park. She followed him
immediately.

"Good-morning, Mr. Morris."

He raised his hat and bowed--without speaking, and without looking at
her.

"We resemble each other in one particular," she proceeded, graciously;
"we both like to breathe the fresh air before breakfast."

He said exactly what common politeness obliged him to say, and no
more--he said, "Yes."

Some girls might have been discouraged. Fra