John Ward, Preacher

ry, had gone home with Mr. Denner. "One needs a walk," he said, "after one

ying along at his side,-"just so

to his library, and after stumbling about to light his lamp, and stirring his fire to have a semblance

han the street, and had that piercing chill of dampness which belongs to houses in a hollow, and

r company, where Mary was reading her one work of fiction. "The Accounts of the Death Beds of Eminent Saints," he had no one to speak to. Many a time before had he sat thus, pondering on the solitude of his life, and contrasting his house with other Ashurst homes. He glanced about his cold bare room, and thought of th

ed and maneuvered, and then suddenly vanished, "it would have been different. She would have made things brighter. Perhaps she would have painted, like Miss Ruth; and I have no doubt s

hat he wished one of the Misses Woodhouse would regard him with sentiments of affection, and he and Willi

them, as he would have expressed it, "collectively," nor could he have told

possessed his deeper regard. "Yes," he said, as he lifted first one foot and then the other over the fender, and, pulling his little coat-tails forward under his arms, stood with his back to the fireplace,-"yes, I will make up my mind; I will make it up to-morrow. I

nclusion was to have ac

uth's studio, and admiring her pictures, when, to his dismay, he found Mary

had always awed him into eating anything she placed before him, and wondered what she would think when she heard-He trembled a little at the thought of breaking it to her;

to-night. Economy is a good thing,-M

er-time, and again in the afternoon, but with no result. Night found him hopele

eek; by and by the uncertainty

white ashes,-"dear me! I no sooner decide that it had better be Miss Deborah-for how satisfying my linen would be if she had an eye on the laundry, and I know she would not have bubble-and-squeak for dinner

y minutes, when suddenly a gleam came into his

about his right ankle and his face full of suppressed eagerness, he felt in each pocket of his waistcoat, and produced first a knife, then a tape measure, a pincushion, a b

it. He rubbed the cent upon the cuff of his coat to make it shine, and held it up a moment in the stre

hall be Miss Deborah; tails, Miss

de to side, and roll slowly under the bookcase. Too much excited to rise from his knees, he crept towards it, and, pressing his c

the office. The little boy stood still, surprised at his uncle's attitude. "Have you lost some

y penny; I'll get it

gled almost under the bookcase, while Mr. Denner

ing from the shadow of the bookcase; "it was cl

om the child, and rubbed it

itation, "you did not chance to observe

"it hadn't fallen, you know, uncle; it was just leaning against the wall. I came

a mystified way, "I wonder if uncle William

y, and gazing blankly at it, unco

t," he murmured. "I mu

ul if he would have questioned fate again in the same way, ev

nd. He had come to see the lawyer about selling a bit of church land; Mr. Denner hastily slipped his penny into his pocket,

d to shake the logs in the small stove, hoping to start a blaze. The rector would have resented any man's meddling wit

. Some people manage to keep their houses very comfortable in weather like this. It is always

re until his face was scarlet. "Yes. I don't believe that woman of yours half looks after your comf

tor. Not perhaps a really good housekeeper. But few women are,-very fe

t is that?-'plunge his fingers in the salad bowl'-'tempt the dying anchorite to eat,'-I can't remember the lines, but that is how

e woman, an estimable woman. One scarcely knows which is the more admirable

, with a sudden gleam in his keen eyes. "Well, I am sure I don't know. I ne

not at all-of course I should never discuss a lady's worth, as it were. I spoke in confidence; I merely wondered what your opinion might be-not"-cried M

nd his rollicking laugh jarred th

could not say. I respect them both immensely. I

r coughed

e," he explained,-"not the slightest.

ctor, and forbore to add a good-natured jest at Mr

f hearing, he could not re

s thigh, "Denner!-Denner and Mis

g; some immediate annoyances of his

ch had not been pleasant; then a letter from Helen had come; and now an anxi

easoned sketch in "Bell's Life;" in the midst of thei

Lois, brother. Ach! how this r

he child done no

lways finding fault," Mrs. Dale answered, "though I do try

ou are always ready enough with that duty of fault-finding." Mr. Dale looked admiringly at his brother-in-law. "Why don't y

asion for it, but you can't expect me to praise Lois for her behavior to young

under his breath; but D

ou mean? W

sed him!" cried Mrs

the rector answered slowly. "Well, th

no, my dear, pray let me speak,-no husband for Lois. I have had some conversation with

did he?" sai

ied Mr. Dale. "I should have said th

y game! Don't be foolish, Henry. Lois has made a great mistake, but I suppose there is nothing to b

advice to Lois. "Still, a girl needs her mother for that sort of thing, and, after all, perhaps it is best. For really, I should be very dull at the

hem. The rector read his letter, leaning against the counter, and crumpling some bay leaves between his fingers; and though he was interrupted half a do

ar heavy writing, and struck it impatiently across his hand before he thrust it down into his po

Apparently, they think they have reached the ultimate truth, and never even look for new light. That is the strangest thing to me. Now, for my part, I would not sign a creed to-day which I had written myself, because one lives progressively in religion as in everything else. But, after all, as I said to Gifford the other day, the form of belief is of so little consequence. The

stiff with frost at the roadside. "I shall tell Gifford he ought to know better than to have these discussions wit

ould seek for an answer with all the force of her life, and know the anguish of despair which comes when a soul feels itself adrift upon a sea of unbelief. They were not of enough importance to talk of to J

easant remembrances it roused, and so engaged was he in this that by the time he had reached the rectory Mr. Denn

usual precision, and ate it in anxious abstraction. The room was chilly; draughts from the narrow windows made the lamp flare, and the wind from under the closed do

e boy said with anxious politenes

ken to; but under the press of hunger nature rebelled, for his

t and watched him with such gloomy eyes, that Willie w

d bowed upon her ample breast, made a grotesque shadow, which danced and bobbed about on the door of the pantry. Mary generally slept through prayers, while for Willie it was a time of nervous dread. The room was so dark, and his uncle's voice so strange and rolling, the little fellow feared to kneel down and turn his back to the long table with its ghastly white cloth; his imagination pictured fearful things stealing upon him from the mysterious space

of Isaiah or in the wail of Jeremiah. Indeed, the thought had more than once occurred to Mr. Denner that the rector, who read the service w

pposite him, and wondered what he should do if suddenly a white face should peer in at him out of the darkness; Mr. Denner had reached the vow that whatsoever should first meet Jeph

is chair to kneel, thinking the reading was over. The sound of his little copper-toed boots upon the floor aroused Mr. Denner; he frowned port

a subdued glee, "That is the way to do it,-the one I see first!" And Mr. Denner went to