went out.'

'Did she?--I have not been to see--I didn't want her for that.'

Elfride scarcely knew, now that a definite reason was required, what
that reason was. Her mind for a moment strayed to another subject,
unimportant as it seemed. The red ember of a match was lying inside the
fender, which explained that why she had seen no rays from the window
was because the candles had only just been lighted.

'I'll come directly,' said the vicar. 'I thought you were out somewhere
with Mr. Smith.'

Even the inexperienced Elfride could not help thinking that her father
must be wonderfully blind if he failed to perceive what was the nascent
consequence of herself and Stephen being so unceremoniously left
together; wonderfully careless, if he saw it and did not think about
it; wonderfully good, if, as seemed to her by far the most probable
supposition, he saw it and thought about it and approved of it. These
reflections were cut short by the appearance of Stephen just outside the
porch, silvered about the head and shoulders with touches of moonlight,
that had begun to creep through the trees.

'Has your trouble anything to do with a kiss on the lawn?' she asked
abruptly, almost passionately.

'Kiss on the lawn?'

'Yes!' she said, imperiously now.

'I didn't comprehend your meaning, nor do I now exactly. I certainly
have kissed nobody on the lawn, if that is really what you want to know,
Elfride.'

'You know nothing about such a performance?'

'Nothing whatever. What makes you ask?'

'Don't press me to tell; it is nothing of importance. And, Stephen, you
have not yet spoken to papa about our engagement?'

'No,' he said regretfully, 'I could not find him directly; and then
I went on thinking so much of what you said about objections,
refusals--bitter words possibly--ending our happiness, that I
resolved to put it off till to-morrow; that gives us one more day of
delight--delight of a tremulous kind.'

'Yes; but it would be improper to be silent too long, I think,' she said
in a delicate voice, which implied that her face had grown warm. 'I want
him to know we love, Stephen. Why did you adopt as your own my thought
of delay?'

'I will explain; but I want to tell you of my secret first--to tell you
now. It is two or three hours yet to bedtime. Let us walk up the hill to
the church.'

Elfride passively assented, and they went from the lawn by a side
wicket, and ascended into the open expanse of moonlight which st