f
that process known as "breaking-up." She had fought a good fight for
many years, and the time was fast coming for her to lay down her arms
and receive her reward. Elisabeth, with her usual light-heartedness, did
not see the Shadow stealing nearer day by day; but Christopher was more
accustomed to shadows than she was--his path had lain chiefly among
them--and he knew what was coming, and longed passionately and in vain
to shield Elisabeth from the inevitable. He had played the part of
Providence to her in one matter: he had stood between her and himself,
and had prevented her from drinking of that mingled cup of sweetness and
bitterness which men call Love, thinking that she would be a happier
woman if she left untasted the only form of the beverage which he was
able to offer her. And possibly he was right; that she would be also a
better woman in consequence, was quite another and more doubtful side of
the question. But now the part of Elisabeth's Providence was no longer
cast for Christopher to play; he might prevent Love with his sorrows
from coming nigh her dwelling, but Death defied his protecting arm. It
was good for Elisabeth to be afflicted, although Christopher would
willingly have died to save her a moment's pain; and it is a blessed
thing for us after all that Perfect Wisdom and Almighty Power are one.

As usual Elisabeth was so busy straining her eyes after the ideal that
the real escaped her notice; and it was therefore a great shock to her
when her Cousin Maria went to sleep one night in a land whose stones are
of iron, and awoke next morning in a country whose pavements are of
gold. For a time the girl was completely stunned by the blow; and during
that period Christopher was very good to her. Afterward--when he and she
had drifted far apart--Elisabeth sometimes recalled Christopher's
sheltering care during the first dark days of her loneliness; and she
never did so without remembering the words, "As the mountains are round
about Jerusalem"; they seemed to express all that he was to her just
then.

When Maria Farringdon's will was read, it was found that she had left to
her cousin and adopted daughter, Elisabeth, an annuity of five hundred a
year; also the income from the Osierfield and the Willows until such
time as the real owner of these estates should be found. The rest of her
property--together with the Osierfield and the Willows--she bequeathed
upon trust for the eldest living son, if any, of her