e of Miss
Joliffe's life; to religion her thought reverted as the needle to the
pole, and to it she turned for an explanation now. It must be some
religious consideration that had proved an obstacle to Anastasia.

"I do not think you need find any difficulty in his having been brought
up as a Wesleyan," she said, with a profound conviction that she had put
her finger on the matter, and with some consciousness of her own
perspicacity. "His father has been dead some time, and though his
mother is still alive, you would not have to live with her. I do not
think, dear, she would at all wish you to become a Methodist. As for
our Mr Westray, your Mr Westray, I should say now," and she assumed
that expression of archness which is considered appropriate to such
occasions, "I am sure he is a sound Churchman. He goes regularly to the
minster on Sundays, and I dare say, being an architect, and often in
church on week-days, he has found out that the order of the Church of
England is more satisfactory than that of any other sect. Though I am
sure I do not wish to say one word against Wesleyans; they are no doubt
true Protestants, and a bulwark against more serious errors. I rejoice
that your lover's early training will have saved him from any
inclination to ritualism."

"My dear aunt," Anastasia broke in, with a stress of earnest deprecation
on the "dear" that startled her aunt, "please do _not_ go on like that.
Do not call Mr Westray my lover; I have told you that I will have
nothing to do with him."

Miss Joliffe's thoughts had moved through a wide arc. Now that this
offer of marriage was about to be refused, now that this engagement was
not to be, the advantages that it offered stood out in high relief. It
seemed too sad that the curtain should be rung down just as the action
of a drama of intense interest was beginning, that the good should slip
through their fingers just as they were grasping it. She gave no
thought now to that fear of a lonely old age which had troubled her a
few minutes before; she only saw the provision for the future which
Anastasia was wilfully sacrificing. Her hand tightened automatically,
and crumpled a long piece of paper that she was holding. It was only a
milkman's bill, and yet it might perhaps have unconsciously given a
materialistic colour to her thoughts.

"We should not reject any good thing that is put before us," she said a
little stiffly, "without being very certain that we are