her son's betrothed,
and called her "daughter."

"Now, my Harold!" she said, when, all trace of emotion having passed
from either, she sat quietly by her son's side. "Now I understand
all. Olive is right; with your love of action, and a spirit that would
perhaps find a limitation in the best forms of belief, you never can
be again a minister of the English Church. We must not think of it any
more."

"But, mother, how shall we live? That is what tortures me! Whither
shall we turn if we go from Harbury? Alone, I could bear anything, but
you"----

"No matter for me! My Harold," she added, a little moved, "if you had
trusted me, and told me your sufferings at any time all these years,--I
would have given up everything here, and lived, as I once did, when you
were a youth at college. It was not hard then, nor would it have been
now. O my son, you did not half know your mother!"

He looked at her, and slowly, slowly there rose in his eyes--those
clear, proud, manly eyes!--two great crystal tears. He was not ashamed
of them; he let them gather and fall. And Olive loved him dearer, ay,
ten thousand times, even though these tears--the first and last she ever
beheld him shed--were given not to her, but to his mother.

Mrs. Gwynne resumed.

"Let us think what we must do; for we have no time to lose. As soon as
you are quite strong, you must give up the curacy, and we will leave
Harbury."

"Leave Harbury! your dear old home, from which you have often said you
could never part! Oh, mother, mother!"

"It is nothing--do not think of it, my son! Afterwards, what must you
do?"

"I cannot tell. Olive, think for me!" said Harold, looking helplessly
towards her.

Olive advised--timidly at first, but growing firmer as she
proceeded--that he should carry out his old plan of going to America.
They talked over the project for a long time, until it grew matured.
Ere the afternoon closed, it was finally decided on--at least, so far as
Harold's yet doubtful health permitted.

"But I shall grow strong now, I know. Mother--Olive! my heart is
lightened of the load of years!"

And truly it seemed so. Nay, when tea-time came he even rose and walked
across the room with something of his old firm step, as if the returning
health were strong within him.

After tea, Harbury bells broke out in their evening chime. Mrs. Gwynne
rose; Olive asked if she were thinking of going to church!

"Yes--to thank God!"

"Go with her, Olive," said H