herself, to do what she had promised, in order to rest
securely on his rock-like truth. He had again touched a deep, grateful
chord in speaking of her to the shopkeeper as his wife; he showed no
disposition whatever to shrink from the relation before the world; it
was evident that he meant to treat her with respect and kindness, and
to exact respect from others. For all this, while sitting quietly and
silently at his side, she thanked him almost passionately in her heart;
but far more than for all this she was glad and grateful that he would
not expect what she now felt it would be impossible for her to
give--the love and personal devotion which had been inseparable from
marriage in her girlhood thoughts. He would make good his words--she
should be his wife in name and be respected as such. He was too simple
and true to himself and his buried love, too considerate of her, to
expect more. She might hope, therefore, as he had said, that they
might be helpful, loyal friends and he would have been surprised indeed
had he known how the pale, silent woman beside him was longing and
hoping to fill his home with comfort.

Thoughts like these had inspired and sustained her while at the same
time ministering the balm of hope. The quiet face of nature, lovely in
the moonlight, seemed to welcome and reassure her. Happy are those
who, when sorely wounded in life, can turn to the natural world and
find in every tree, shrub, and flower a comforting friend that will not
turn from them. Such are not far from God and peace.

The range of Holcroft's thoughts was far simpler and narrower than
Alida's. He turned rather deliberately from the past, preferring to
dwell on the probable consummation of his hope. His home, his farm,
were far more to him than the woman he had married. He had wedded her
for their sake, and his thoughts followed his heart, which was in his
hillside acres. It is said that women often marry for a home; he truly
had done so to keep his home. The question which now most occupied him
was the prospect of doing this through quiet, prosperous years. He
dwelt minutely on Alida's manner, as well as her words, and found
nothing to shake his belief that she had been as truthful as himself.
Nevertheless, he queried in regard to the future with not a little
anxiety. In her present distress and poverty she might naturally be
glad of the refuge he had offered; but as time passed and the poignancy
of bitter memories