control a
passion that had grown like a force of Nature, which it really was. Now
great and fervid emotions are supposed to be the true realization of
life, but they do not, as a rule, soften the nature they invade; very
frequently they render it cruel and indifferent to whomever or whatever
appears to stand in the way of its desires. John realized this fact in
Harry's case. He was going from home for a year, and yet he had never
before been so careless and unconcerned about his home.

It was not a pleasant train of thought, and he was pleased when it was
interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Hatton. "Why, John, my dear," she
said, "I was wondering if you had come home yet. Have you seen Harry?"

"Not since breakfast."

"He is with that girl, I suppose; or, if Lugur is at home, he is
watching the house she lives in."

"He is very much in love. We must make the best of it. I thought he was
in love with Polly Crowther--but it seems not. There is a little
difference between the two girls."

"There is a big difference between them, and it is all in favor of Polly
Crowther."

"As far as we can judge at present it is, but--whatever have you in your
basket, mother? It smells like Paradise."

"I have herbs, John. I have been crushing down my heartache with
work--there's nothing beats work if you're in trouble. I cleaned out my
still room today, and I was carrying there the last pickings of lavender
and rosemary, sage and marjoram, basil and mint. I can tell you, John,
there's a deal of help in some way or other through sweet, pungent
smells. They brightened me up a bit today, they did that!"

"To be sure they did, mother. They rise naturally to Heaven, and if we
are willing, they carry our thoughts with them."

"I don't know about that, John. My thoughts were not heavenly at all
today, and I hope they stayed where they belonged. Take the tongs, John,
and lift a lump of coal to the fire. I joy to see the blaze. I wouldn't
like Hatton hearthstone to have the ill luck that has just come to Yates
Manor House. You know, John, the fire in their hall has been burning for
nearly two hundred years, never, never allowed to go out. The young
squire always fed it as soon as the old squire went away. It was dead
and cold this morning. Yates is past comforting. He says it bodes all
kinds of misfortunes to them."

"How long ago is it since Hatton Hall fire was lit?"

"Well, John, our fire isn't out of counting, like some of the old