down her crape veil that no one might see her tears.

"I knew her well; she was a childless widow who had lately come to
live at Sandycliffe in a pretty cottage about half a mile from the
Grange, and with whom Margaret had become very intimate--a fair
gentle-looking woman who had gone through much trouble, and who wished
to devote her life to good works; and as I looked at her now, my own
eyes misty with sympathy, did I ever imagine that the time was fast
approaching when I should wrong her with the bitterest hatred, and
even seek to lift my hand against her.

"And yet you were one of God's dear saints, Mona!

"The service over, we lingered for a moment in the shady church-yard,
Hugh and Margaret and I, until Raby should join us. He came out at
last, a little pale and tired-looking. Margaret met him, her eyes
shining like stars.

"'Oh, Raby,' she faltered, 'God has given me my heart's desire.' He
smiled, but his hand went out to the girl standing silently behind
him.

"'What does my child say?' he whispered, when the others had gone on a
little; but I had no answer ready, he was so good, so far above me.
With a sudden impulse I lifted the kind hand to my lips as though he
were a king.

* * * * *

"Raby was very zealous in his profession. There was so little to do in
Sandycliffe, but he offered himself as coadjutor to the vicar of
Pierrepoint, and as there was a large poor population there, he and
Margaret, and Mrs. Grey, his faithful helper, found plenty of scope
for their energies.

"Mrs. Grey had no ties, she was rich and lonely, and she sought relief
from her sick heart in ministering to the needs of others. Her health
was delicate, and the air of Sandycliffe suited her--she had taken a
fancy to the place; and the pretty cottage she rented was more to her
taste than her house at South Kensington.

"Margaret and she were always together, their natures were congenial
to each other, and a warm friendship grew up between them; Raby was
also much interested in the young widow. I heard him say much more
than once that she was a rare creature, and so humble in her own
estimation that one would never have guessed how cultivated and
accomplished she really was; 'her manners are so perfectly gentle,' he
went on, 'no wonder Margaret is glad to have found such a friend.'

"I began to think that she was Raby's friend too, for nothing seemed
to be done in Sandycliffe without Mrs. Grey--'