ose of
life--sympathy and love to further man's interest--faith and prayer to
live ever for God's glory. And not a few of these lessons he owed to
his college, to its directing influence, its ennobling associations, its
studies--all bent towards that which is permanent and eternal, not to
the transitory and superficial. To the latest day of his life, the name
of Saint Werner's remained to Julian Home an incentive to all that is
noble and manly in human effort. He felt the same duty with regard to
it as the generous scion of an illustrious house feels towards the
ancient name which he has inherited, and the noble lineage whence he has
sprung.

The few months which were to elapse before his marriage, Julian spent in
preparing the vicarage for his young betrothed, and he stored it with
everything which could delight a simple yet refined and educated taste.
There was an indefinable charm about it--the charm of home. You felt on
entering it that its owner destined it as the place around which his
fondest affections were to centre, and his work in life was to be done.
Julian had not the restless mind which sighs for continual change; happy
in himself and his own resources, and the honest endeavour to do good,
the glory of the green fields, the changes of the varying year supplied
him with a wealth of beauty which was sufficient for all his needs, and
when--after some long day's work amid the cottages, reading to the sick
at their lonely bedsides, listening to the prattle of the children in
the infant schools, talking to the labourers as they rested at their
work--he refreshed himself by a gallop across the free fresh downs, or a
quiet stroll under the rosy apple-blossoms of his orchard or garden,
Julian might have said with more truth than most men can, that he was a
happy and a contented man.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

FAREWELL.

"Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously swells!"
Edgar Poe.

Merrily, merrily, rang out the sweet bells of Orton-on-the-Sea; more
merrily than they ever rang before; so merrily that it seemed as if they
would concentrate into every single clash and clang of their joyous peal
a tumult of inexpressible happiness greater than they would ever be able
to enjoy again. If you look up at the belfry, you will see them swing
and dance in a very delirium of ec