s heart on. But in this direction, as in many
others, the way was barred. All the land in the parish was the squire's,
and not one inch of the squire's land would Henslowe let young Elsmere
have anything to do with if he knew it. He would neither repair nor
enlarge the Workmen's Institute; and he had a way of forgetting the
squire's customary subscriptions to parochial objects, always paid
through him, which gave him much food for chuckling whenever he passed
Elsmere in the country lanes. The man's coarse insolence and mean hatred
made themselves felt at every turn, besmirching and embittering.

Still it was very true that neither Henslowe nor the squire could do
Robert much harm. His hold on the parish was visibly strengthening; his
sermons were not only filling the church with his own parishioners, but
attracting hearers from the districts round Murewell, so that even on
these winter Sundays there was almost always a sprinkling of strange
faces among the congregation; and his position in the county and diocese
was becoming every month more honourable and important. The gentry about
showed them much kindness, and would have shown them much hospitality if
they had been allowed. But though Robert had nothing of the ascetic
about him, and liked the society of his equals as much as most
good-tempered and vivacious people do, he and Catherine decided that for
the present they had no time to spare for visits and county society.
Still, of course, there were many occasions on which the routine of
their life brought them across their neighbours, and it began to be
pretty widely recognised that Elsmere was a young fellow of unusual
promise and intelligence, that his wife too was remarkable, and that
between them they were likely to raise the standard of clerical effort
considerably in their part of Surrey.

All the factors of this life--his work, his influence, his recovered
health, the lavish beauty of the country, Elsmere enjoyed with all his
heart. But at the root of all there lay what gave value and savour to
everything else--that exquisite home-life of theirs, that tender, triple
bond of husband, wife, and child.

Catherine, coming home tired from teaching or visiting, would find her
step quickening as she reached the gate of the rectory, and the sense of
delicious possession waking up in her, which is one of the first fruits
of motherhood. There, at the window, between the lamplight behind and
the winter dusk outside, wo