never think of it again.'

'Ah! I am afraid that is all I can wish for you!'

'Don't wish it so pitifully, then,' said Owen, smiling. 'After having
had no hope of her for five years, and being the poor object I am, this
is no such great blow; and I am come to the mood of benevolence in which
I really desire nothing so much as to see them happy.'

'I will think about it,' said Honor.

And though she was bewildered and disappointed, the interview had, on the
whole, made her happier, by restoring the power of admiring as much as
she loved. Yet it was hard to be required to sacrifice the interests of
one whom she adored, her darling, who might need help so much, to do
justice to a comparative stranger; and the more noble and worthy Owen
showed himself, the less willing was she to decide on committing herself
to his unconscious rival. Still, did the test of idolatry lie here?

She perceived how light-hearted this conversation had rendered Owen, as
though he had thrown off a weight that had long been oppressing him. He
was overflowing with fun and drollery throughout the journey; and though
still needing a good deal of assistance at all changes of carriage,
showed positive boyish glee in every feat he could accomplish for
himself; and instead of shyly shrinking from the observation and casual
help of fellow-travellers, gave ready smiles and thanks.

Exhilarated instead of wearied by the journey, he was full of enjoyment
of the lodgings, the window, and the view; a new spring of youthfulness
seemed to have come back to him, and his animation and enterprise carried
Honor along with him. Assuredly she had never known more thorough
present pleasure than in his mirthful, affectionate talk, and in the
sight of his daily progress towards recovery; and a still greater
happiness was in store for her. On the second day, he begged to
accompany her to the week-day service at the neighbouring church,
previously sending in a request for the offering of the thanks of Owen
Charteris Sandbrook for preservation in great danger, and recovery from
severe illness.

'Dearest,' she said, 'were I to recount my causes of thanksgiving, I
should not soon have done! This is best of all.'

'Not fully _best_ yet, is it?' said Owen, looking up to her with eyes
like those of his childhood.

'No; but it soon will be.'

'Not yet,' said Owen; 'I must think first; perhaps write or talk to
Robert Fulmort. I feel as if I _could_ now.'

'You l