d the
village, and those running along the top of the snowy hill, were meshed
in a silvery mist which died into the moonlit blue, while in the fields
the sharpness of the shadows thrown by the scattered trees made a marvel
of black and white.

The minister, in spite of a fighting creed, possessed a measure of
gentler susceptibilities, and the beauty of this basin in the chalk
hills, this winter triumphant, these lights of home and fellowship in the
cottage windows disputing the forlornness of the snow, crept into his
soul. His mind travelled from the physical purity and hardness before
him to the purity and hardness of the inner life--the purity that Christ
blessed, the "hardness" that the Christian endures. And such thoughts
brought him pleasure as he walked--the mystic's pleasure.

Suddenly he saw a woman cross the snowy green in front of him. She had
come from the road leading to the hill, and her pace was hurried. Her
shawl was muffled round her head, but he recognised her, and his mood
fell. She was the wife of Isaac Costrell, and she was hurrying to the
Spotted Deer, a public-house which lay just beyond the village, on the
road to the mill. Already several times that week had he seen her going
in or coming out. Talk had begun to reach him, and he said to himself
to-night as he saw her--that Isaac Costrell's wife was going to ruin.

The thought oppressed him, pricked his pastoral conscience. Isaac was
his right-hand man: dull to all the rest of the world, but not dull to
the minister. With Mr. Drew sometimes he would break into talk of
religion, and the man's dark eyes would lose their film. His big
troubled self spoke with that accent of truth which lifts common talk and
halting texts to poetry. The minister, himself more of a pessimist than
his sermons showed, felt a deep regard for him. Could nothing be done to
save Isaac's wife and Isaac? Not so long ago Bessie Costrell had been a
decent woman, though a flighty and excitable one. Now some cause,
unknown to the minister, had upset a wavering balance, and was undoing a
life.

As he passed the public-house a man came out, and through the open door
Mr. Drew caught a momentary glimpse of the bar and the drinkers.
Bessie's handsome, reckless head stood out an instant in the bright light.

Then Drew saw that the man who had emerged was Watson the policeman.
They greeted each other cordially and walked on together. Watson also
was a member of the mi