hen they
entered the church, and he persisted in these good habits until it
became a matter of course that he should spend the whole day in
Berrington Square, as Norah herself had done from the beginning of her
engagement. In the afternoon Mrs Baker would invariably make the
hospitable suggestion that "if John liked" he could descend to a chill,
fireless room in the basement to indulge in an after-dinner weed, but
John refused to move until Miss Boyce had given her repetition of the
morning's service. He said that he was afraid she might forget an
important point, in which case he should be at hand to jog her memory.
"John is so thoughtful!" said his aunt proudly.

As a matter of fact, John never once volunteered a suggestion on any one
of these occasions. He seemed to be fully occupied in using his eyes
and ears, and in truth it was both a pretty and touching sight to see
the young fresh face bent close to the withered countenance of the deaf
old woman, and to listen to the thrush-like tones of the girl's voice,
as with a sweet and simple eloquence she gave her brief resume of the
morning's sermon. The old lady nodded and wagged her head to enforce
the points, while the tears trickled down her cheeks. From time to time
John also would take a promenade to the window, and clear his throat
loudly as he stared at the dusty trees. Strange how much more powerful
those sermons appeared in the repetition!

After the recital was over, young Mr Baker would take Miss Boyce to
examine the ferns in the tiny conservatory, while his aunt enjoyed her
forty winks; in the evening he escorted her back to her lodgings. He
was a most attentive young man!

In Mrs Baker's opinion "John" was infallible, and by and by Norah
became so much infected with this view that her afternoon's occupation
became fraught with misery, as she thought of what "John" would say if
he knew to what heresies she was lending her ears. One Sunday afternoon
returning to the Berrington Square drawing-room after a short absence,
she overheard a few words which sent an added pang through her heart.

"--Most fortunate indeed!" John was saying. "You might have searched
the world over, and not found another like her. I had begun to fear
that the type was extinct. A sweet, modest, old-fashioned girl!"

That evening Norah wet her pillow with her tears, and astonished the
advanced lady the next afternoon by contradicting assertions, and
raising up objections