ht had she to question; but the thought held a sting.

"But--if not, there must be so horribly many who are wretched!"

"There are," Mrs Evans said. A moment later: "Wretched is a strong
word, Cassandra," she added, "perhaps it would be better to say
`disappointed.' There are very few women who get to my age who are not
making a fight against some sort of disappointment. They are very brave
about it, for the most part, and cover it up so successfully that the
world does not suspect; but the fight goes on. I get many peeps behind
the scenes; it's part of my work. Sickness comes or loss, and then it
is a comfort to speak out and unburden the heart. I've been amazed at
the number of hidden sorrows in the places where I least expected them.
I have looked down on a woman as frivolous and commonplace, and have
come away after half an hour's confidences looking up to her as a
heroine."

Cassandra turned her head and looked up and down the diverging paths.
Women everywhere, crowds of women, old and young, and heavily
middle-aged, talking, smiling, bearing themselves with complacent airs.
It was a ghastly, a hideous thought that they were all suffering some
inner smart! She had believed that she was an exception, but according
to Mrs Evans it was not the sufferer who was the exception, but the
child of the sunshine, who, like fortunate Grizel, was endowed with the
gift of happiness.

"All of them?" cried Cassandra sharply. "Oh, not all! They look so
calm and comfortable. I couldn't bear to think that under the mask they
were all suffering!"

"They are not, my dear; they are forgetting! That's the lesson so many
of us have to learn,--to forget the unattainable, and make the best of
what remains. And every innocent distraction that comes along, like
this party to-day, to see your beautiful flowers, helps a step along the
road."

"Suppose," said Cassandra slowly, "one did not wish to forget?"

The Vicar's wife shook her head.

"One rarely does. It is easier to cling hold. But it's possible to ask
oneself a straight question... Which is going to make life easier for
myself, and the people around me,--to cling hold, or,--to let go? It
saps one's vitality to grieve over the unattainable, and in most lives
there _is_ an unattainable. There are not many women so fortunate as
you, Cassandra!"

Mrs Evans spoke in good faith. She had a sincere liking for the
Squire, who as a patron was not only generous, but de