rawing herself up to her fullest height, 'a
Rugby boy, and an Oxford man is a companion for any lady--and a London
rector is a match for any lady in the kingdom, allow me to assure you,
Mr Prothero; and Rowland has been in quite as good, or better society in
town, than you can meet with in this neighbourhood. Sir Philip is quite
in the first circles.'

'And Rowland isn't spoilt by it, brother,' said Mr Jonathan. 'He is a
son and nephew we have reason to be proud of.'

Thus, in the midst of heavy sorrow, a joy came to the inmates of
Glanyravon Farm. A sunbeam through the shadows.

Such, too, is life!

CHAPTER L.

THE DISINHERITED.

Miss Gwynne and Rowland walked on quietly together for a little space.
There was something in the heart of each, unknown to the other, that
seemed to close up speech. It was nearly five o'clock, and a January
evening; but for the 'pretty moon' and the white mist from the river,
and the frost-bitten snow on the roads, it would have been dark; but it
was really a fine, bright night. That river-mist rose from the meadows
beneath like a large lake, and the moonlight pierced through it and
mingled with it.

It was such a night as lovers of a healthy, natural tone of mind might
rejoice in; frost and snow being no refrigerators of true, honest
warmth, but rather tending to keep it alive, by exhilarating the spirits
and clearing the atmosphere.

Rowland broke the silence, and so clear was the air, that his own voice
startled him.

'I am going to London to-morrow, Miss Gwynne; may I give Mrs Jones some
hope that you will soon be back again?'

'I fear not,' said Freda; 'my father wishes me to remain at home, and I
have decided upon doing so.'

'Not entirely?' asked Rowland, in a voice that all his self-command
could not render calm.

'I believe it is so settled. He makes a great point of it. Lady Mary is
equally urgent, and I have promised. Do you not think it is right?'

'I suppose so; but what shall we do without you?'

Rowland spoke as he felt, from his heart. Miss Gwynne was touched by the
words and tone.

'I shall be very sorry,' she said, simply. 'I never was so happy as in
that dingy old square.'

Rowland felt that his new living, with all its increased
responsibilities, would be a heavy burden to him without Freda's ready
energy to lighten it. He did not at that moment pause to think how
closely even our highest duties are entwined with our affections, and
ther