s of mine. But her fortune is my business, and
it's in my hands too. Might's right, and possession's nine-tenths of
the law. Not one penny shall she get out of my fingers as long as I
can keep hold of it."

John bowed, his hand still on the door. "As you please, Mr. Brithwood.
That was not the subject of our interview. Good-morning."

And we were away.

Re-crossing the iron gates, and out into the open road, John breathed
freely.

"That's over--all is well."

"Do you think what he threatened is true? Can he do it?"

"Very likely; don't let us talk about that." And he walked on lightly,
as if a load were taken off his mind, and body and soul leaped up to
meet the glory of the summer sunshine, the freshness of the summer air.

"Oh! what a day is this!--after the rain, too! How she will enjoy it!"

And coming home through Norton Bury, we met her, walking with Mrs.
Jessop. No need to dread that meeting now.

Yet she looked up, questioning, through her blushes. Of course he had
told her where we were going to-day; her who had a right to know every
one of his concerns now.

"Yes, dear, all is quite right. Do not be afraid."

Afraid, indeed! Not the least fear was in those clear eyes. Nothing
but perfect content--perfect trust.

John drew her arm through his. "Come, we need not mind Norton Bury
now," he said, smiling.

So they two walked forward, talking, as we could see, earnestly and
rather seriously to one another; while Mrs. Jessop and I followed
behind.

"Bless their dear hearts!" said the old lady, as she sat resting on the
stile of a bean-field. "Well, we have all been young once."

Not all, good Mrs. Jessop, thought I; not all.

Yet, surely it was most pleasant to see them, as it is to see all true
lovers--young lovers, too, in the morning of their days. Pleasant to
see written on every line of their happy faces the blessedness of
Nature's law of love--love began in youth-time, sincere and pure, free
from all sentimental shams, or follies, or shames--love mutually
plighted, the next strongest bond to that in which it will end, and is
meant to end, God's holy ordinance of marriage.

We came back across the fields to tea at Mrs. Jessop's. It was John's
custom to go there almost every evening; though certainly he could not
be said to "go a-courting." Nothing could be more unlike it than his
demeanour, or indeed the demeanour of both. They were very quiet
lovers, never making much of