busy weaving a romance for her pupil; she
thought of the passionate interest displayed by the fair young clergyman
fifteen years ago, and believed that occasionally men could be constant,
and hoped that if Mr. Livingstone were the new canon, he might prove the
_rara avis_ which exists but once in a century. He came, and it was the
same. He looked a little stouter, a little older, but had still the gait
and aspect of a young man. His smooth fair face was scarcely lined at
all with any marks of care; the blue eyes looked so kindly and peaceful,
that Miss Monro could scarcely fancy they were the same which she had
seen fast filling with tears; the bland calm look of the whole man needed
the ennoblement of his evident devoutness to be raised into the type of
holy innocence which some of the Romanists call the "sacerdotal face."
His entire soul was in his work, and he looked as little likely to step
forth in the character of either a hero of romance or a faithful lover as
could be imagined. Still Miss Monro was not discouraged; she remembered
the warm, passionate feeling she had once seen break through the calm
exterior, and she believed that what had happened once might occur again.

Of course, while all eyes were directed on the new canon, he had to learn
who the possessors of those eyes were one by one; and it was probably
some time before the idea came into his mind that Miss Wilkins, the lady
in black, with the sad pale face, so constant an attendant at service, so
regular a visitor at the school, was the same Miss Wilkins as the bright
vision of his youth. It was her sweet smile at a painstaking child that
betrayed her--if, indeed, betrayal it might be called where there was no
wish or effort to conceal anything. Canon Livingstone left the
schoolroom almost directly, and, after being for an hour or so in his
house, went out to call on Mrs. Randall, the person who knew more of her
neighbours' affairs than any one in East Chester.

The next day he called on Miss Wilkins herself. She would have been very
glad if he had kept on in his ignorance; it was so keenly painful to be
in the company of one the sight of whom, even at a distance, had brought
her such a keen remembrance of past misery; and when told of his call, as
she was sitting at her sewing in the dining-room, she had to nerve
herself for the interview before going upstairs into the drawing-room,
where he was being entertained by Miss Monro with warm demonst