be, and the thing that should not be; the thing that was reasonable,
and the thing that was absurd. Add to all this, that she believed she
saw in Mr. Wardour's behavior to his cousin, in the careful gentleness
evident through all the severity of the schoolmaster, the presence of a
deeper feeling, that might one day blossom to the bliss of her
friend--and we need not wonder if Mary's heart remained calm in the
very floods of its gratitude; while the truth she gathered by aid of
the intercourse, enlarging her strength, enlarged likewise the
composure that comes of strength. She did not even trouble herself much
to show Godfrey her gratitude. We may spoil gratitude as we offer it,
by insisting on its recognition. To receive honestly is the best thanks
for a good thing.

Nor was Godfrey without payment for what he did: the revival of ancient
benefits, a new spring-time of old flowers, and the fresh quickening of
one's own soul, are the spiritual wages of every spiritual service. In
giving, a man receives more than he gives, and the _more_ is in
proportion to the worth of the thing given.

Mary did not encourage Letty to call at the shop, because the rudeness
of the Turnbulls was certain to break out on her departure, as it did
one day that Godfrey, dismounting at the door, and entering the shop in
quest of something for his mother, naturally shook hands with Mary over
the counter. No remark was made so long as her father was in the shop,
for, with all their professed contempt of him and his ways, the
Turnbulls stood curiously in awe of him: no one could tell what he
might or might not do, seeing they did not in the least understand him;
and there were reasons for avoiding offense.

But the moment he retired, which he always did earlier than the rest,
the small-arms of the enemy began to go off, causing Mary a burning
cheek and indignant heart. Yet the great desire of Mr. Turnbull was a
match between George and Mary, for that would, whatever might happen,
secure the Marston money to the business. Their evil report Mary did
not carry to her father. She scorned to trouble his lofty nature with
her small annoyances; neither could they long keep down the wellspring
of her own peace, which, deeper than anger could reach, soon began to
rise again fresh in her spirit, fed from that water of life which
underlies all care. In a few moments it had cooled her cheek, stilled
her heart, and washed the wounds of offense.

CHAPT