re still in Mr.
Woodbourne's possession, so that it was not necessary to call anyone to
open the doors for them.

Whilst Anne was searching for the Prayer-book, Elizabeth stood in the
aisle, her eyes fixed on the bright red cross in the centre window over
the Altar. The sun-beams were lighting it up gloriously, and from it,
her gaze fell upon the Table of Commandments, between it and the Altar.
Presently, Anne came and stood by her side in silence. 'Anne,' said
Elizabeth, after a few minutes, 'I will tell you what I have been
thinking of. On the day when Horace laid the first stone of this
church, two years ago, something put me, I am sorry to say, into one of
my old fits of ill temper. It was the last violent passion I ever was
in; I either learnt to control them, or outgrew them. And now, may
this affair at the Consecration be the last of my self-will and
self-conceit; for indeed there is much that is fearfully wrong in me to
be corrected, before I can dare to think of the Confirmation.'

Perhaps we cannot take leave of Elizabeth Woodbourne at a better
moment, therefore we will say no more of her, or of the other
inhabitants of the Vicarage, but make a sudden transition to the
conversation, which Anne had hoped to enjoy on the journey back to
Merton Hall.

She had told her father of nearly all her adventures, had given Fido's
history more fully, informed Rupert of all that he had missed, and was
proceeding with an account of Helen. 'Really,' said she, 'I have much
more hope of her being happy at home, than I had at first.'

'I will answer for it that she will be happy enough,' said Rupert; 'she
has been living on flummery for the last half-year, and you cannot
expect her to be contented with mutton-chops just at first.'

'Helen does not find so much fault with the mutton-chops as with the
pepper Lizzie adds to them,' said Anne.

'I should be sorry to live without pepper,' said Rupert.

'I am not so sure of that,' said Lady Merton.

'At least you do not wish to have enough to choke you,' said Anne; 'you
must have it in moderation.'

'I think Lizzie is learning moderation,' said Lady Merton; 'she is
acquiring more command of impulse, and Helen more command of feeling,
so that I think there is little danger of their not agreeing.'

'Is it not curious, Mamma,' said Anne, 'that we should have been
talking of the necessity of self-control, just before we set out on
this visit, when I told you that line of B