or later come into the
entailed property of his uncle. It was not at all pleasant to Lord
Hartledon to stand there in his pew, with recollection upon him, and the
gaze of the Ashtons studiously turned from him, and Jabez Gum looking out
at him from the corners of his eyes as he made his sonorous responses. A
wish for reconciliation took strong possession of Lord Hartledon, and he
wondered whether he could not bring himself to sue for it. He wanted
besides to stay for the after-service, which he had not done since he was
a young man--never since his marriage. Maude had stayed occasionally, as
was the fashion; but he never. I beg you not to quarrel with me for the
word; some of the partakers in that after-service remain from no higher
motive. Certainly poor Maude had not.

On the third Sunday, Lord Hartledon went to church in the evening--alone;
and when service was over he waited until the church had emptied itself,
and then made his way into the vestry. Jabez was passing out of it, and
the Rector was coming out behind him. Lord Hartledon stopped the latter,
and craved a minute's conversation. Dr. Ashton bowed rather stiffly, put
his hat down, and Jabez shut them in.

"Is there any service you require of me?" inquired the Rector, coldly.

It was the impulsive Val Elster of old days who answered; his hand held
out pleadingly, his ingenuous soul shining forth from his blue eyes.

"Yes, there is, Doctor Ashton; I have come to pray for it--your
forgiveness."

"My Christian forgiveness you have had already," returned the clergyman,
after a pause.

"But I want something else. I want your pardon as a man; I want you to
look at me and speak to me as you used to do. I want to hear you call me
'Val' again; to take my hand in yours, and not coldly; in short, I want
you to help me to forgive myself."

In that moment--and Dr. Ashton, minister of the gospel though he was,
could not have explained it--all the old love for Val Elster rose
bubbling in his heart. A stubborn heart withal, as all hearts are since
Adam sinned; he did not respond to the offered hand, nor did his features
relax their sternness in spite of the pleading look.

"You must be aware, Lord Hartledon, that your conduct does not merit
pardon. As to friendship--which is what you ask for--it would be
incompatible with the distance you and I must observe towards each
other."

"Why need we observe it--if you accord me your true forgiveness?"

The question was