The chaplain had indeed undergone long and wearisome struggles of heart since those sunny weeks at Glyn Melen a year since, when he had only too fully realised his love for his fair young companion, together with the glad, dawning hope that one day it might not prove in vain. It was not until they had parted, and he was once more face to face with the serious work of life, that a painful doubt took possession of him as to his right to enjoy the prospect of so blissful a future as seemed possibly within his reach. He had voluntarily entered upon a special career, which he dared not forego for any alluring prospect of domestic ease and happiness. Come what might of sorrow and self-denial, the work to which he had vowed himself must be accomplished without faltering. The question was, whether it could be better, or less well accomplished, side by side with such a companion as her to whom he had given his heart? If less well, she must be renounced and his work must be done, at whatever sacrifice, alone and unaided. But no, if he had judged her rightly, then surely she would but spur him on to greater endeavour, and the more truly and worthily help him to realise that high ideal of life ever kept before him, and, as he knew, none the less ever aimed at by herself. Yet even so--that his work would indeed at her side be better and more nobly done,--dare he bind her to himself at such a price--to share sorrow-bringing labours, obloquy and ridicule perchance from the world at large, and at home either the knowledge with him of the dread curse, which might too sorely hurt her tender soul, or the perpetual hiding of it on his part from her, which might on the other hand too grievously try her wifely faith and trust in him? Ought a man, with so many possibilities of future suffering for the woman he loved, ask her to share his life and his fortunes? Ought he not rather to leave her to the almost undoubted certainty of some other happier marriage, and himself tread alone, as he had already ever contemplated, save in some few wild moments, his path of self-denial and pain? Often was this question considered in all its aspects, and wrestled with during many a sleepless night by the chaplain during those autumn weeks which followed his sojourn with Lady Bryn Afon and Primrose at Glyn Melen, and as oft was it laid aside in sore perplexity, to be fought out again in some calmer moment. But a new and unexpected burden of thought was to be grappled with before Percival's heart might rest; for while in the midst of his first conflict, the startling revelation of the true relation borne by Lady Bryn Afon to her fair young companion was revealed to him by the former, bringing with it a fresh weight of wearisome struggle. Then, his pride up in arms at the thought, that by now seeking Primrose for the true and God-given helpmeet of his life, he might appear to her in the abhorred light of a fortune-seeker, he wished in fierce impatience that he had already