, falteringly, "you are welcome. But no one comes here;
so I was startled." Then, recovering herself, "Excuse my ill-manners. 'T
is so strange that you should come to me here, of all places."

"Nay, my daughter," said the priest, "not so very strange: contemplative
minds love such places. Calling one day to see you, I found this sweet
and solemn grove; the like I never saw in England: and to-day I returned
in hopes to profit by it. Do but look around at these tall columns; how
calm, how reverend! 'T is God's own temple, not built with hands."

"Indeed it is," said Mrs. Gaunt, earnestly. Then, like a woman as she
was, "So you came to see my trees, not me."

Leonard blushed. "I did not design to return without paying my respects
to her who owns this temple, and is worthy of it; nay, I beg you not to
think me ungrateful."

His humility and gentle but earnest voice made Mrs. Gaunt ashamed of her
petulance. She smiled sweetly, and looked pleased. However, erelong, she
attacked him again. "Father Francis used to visit us often," said she.
"He made friends with my husband, too. And I never lacked an adviser
while he was here."

Leonard looked so confused at this second reproach that Mrs. Gaunt's
heart began to yearn. However, he said humbly that Francis was a secular
priest, whereas he was convent-bred. He added, that by his years and
experience Francis was better fitted to advise persons of her age and
sex, in matters secular, than he was. He concluded timidly that he was
ready, nevertheless, to try and advise her; but could not, in such
matters, assume the authority that belongs to age and knowledge of the
world.

"Nay, nay," said she, earnestly, "guide and direct my soul, and I am
content."

He said, yes! that was his duty and his right.

Then, after a certain hesitation, which at once let her know what was
coming, he began to thank her, with infinite grace and sweetness, for
her kindness to him.

She looked him full in the face, and said she was not aware of any
kindness she had shown him worth speaking of.

"That but shows," said he, "how natural it is to you to do acts of
goodness. My poor room is a very bower now, and I am happy in it. I used
to feel very sad there at times; but your hand has cured me."

Mrs. Gaunt colored beautifully. "You make me ashamed," said she. "Things
are come to a pass indeed, if a lady may not send a few flowers and
things to her spiritual father without being thanked for it. And,