with business when the front door bell rang once more,
and the butler appeared.

"Mr. Lavery wishes to know, miss, if you will see him."

The Vicar! Diana's heart sank. Must she? But some deep instinct--some
yearning--interfered, and she bade him be admitted.

Then she stood waiting, dreading some onslaught on the secrets of her
mind and heart--some presumption in the name of religion.

The tall form entered, in the close-buttoned coat, the gaunt oblong of
the face poked forward, between the large protruding ears, the
spectacled eyes blinking.

"May I come in? I will only keep you a few minutes."

She came forward and gave him her hand. The door shut behind him.

"Won't you sit down?"

"I think not. You must be very busy. I only came to say a few words.
Miss Mallory!"

He still held her hand. Diana trembled, and looked up.

"--I fear you may have thought me harsh. _I_ blame myself in many
respects. Will you forgive me? Mrs. Roughsedge has told me what you
wished her to tell me. Before you go, will you still let me give you
Christ's message?"

The tears rushed back to Diana's eyes; she looked at him silently.

"'Blessed are they that mourn,'" he said, gently, with a tender dignity,
"'for they shall be comforted!'"

Their eyes met. From the man's face and manner everything had dropped
but the passion of Christian charity, mingled with a touch of
remorse--as though, in what had been revealed to him, the servant had
realized some mysterious rebuke of his Lord.

"Remember that!" he went on. "Your mourning is your blessing. God's love
will come to you through it--and the sense of fellowship with Christ.
Don't cast it from you--don't put it away."

"I know," she said, brokenly. "It is agony, but it is sacred."

His eyes grew dim. She withdrew her hand, and they talked a little about
her journey.

"But you will come back," he said to her, presently, with earnestness;
"your friends here will think it an honor and a privilege to
welcome you."

"Oh yes, I shall come back. Unless--I have some friends in London--East
London. Perhaps I might work there."

He shook his head.

"No, you are not strong enough. Come back here. There is God's work to
be done in this village, Miss Mallory. Come and put your hand to it. But
not yet--not yet."

Then her weariness told him that he had said enough, and he went.

* * * * *

Late that night Diana tore herself from Muriel Colwood, went a