For a moment the chaplain covered his face with his hands and trembled with the bitter force of his soul's conflict; then, raising his pure, upturned face to heaven, a light, surely not of earth, irradiated his beautiful countenance as he murmured in the words of that holy saint whose sayings he ever treasured in his heart, "Christ's whole life was a cross and martyrdom, and dost thou seek rest and joy for thyself?" Then, turning to her he loved, with that light still glowing in his deep, dark-fringed eyes, he said, "Sweetheart, to 'do after the good and leave the evil' shall ever be our motto, and since for us the sweet joys of earth, so good in themselves, and so blessed of God, are yet for us two mysteriously pronounced by Him as evil, we will together forsake them lovingly for His sake, and with steadfast hearts walk hand in hand bravely through this present life in the hallowed paths of friendship, and in His great mercy wait for the full fruition of our love in the world to come." CHAPTER XXXI. AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. "And while we suffer, let us set our souls To suffer perfectly; since this alone, The suffering, which is this world's special grace, May here be perfected and left behind." --MRS. HAMILTON KING. Far up amid the lonely heights of Craig Aran, on the Sunday evening which followed the events recorded in the last chapter, wandered the footsteps of Master Jeremy Taylor. Once again a guest at the house of his old friend the Earl of Carbery, he had been taking Sunday duty for an aged friend of the earl's at Wernolen, a wild distant spot in the mountains, and purposed wending his way ere nightfall to the farm Glyn Melen, not many miles distant, with the double object of seeking a night's shelter in that spot of well-known loveliness, and of trusting still to find there his beloved friend Percival in company with Lady Bryn Afon and her daughter, and to hear that the wedding ceremony, in which he had long since promised to take his part, might now be not very far distant. News of its postponement on account of the sudden illness of Primrose had been some while since sent to him, as well as to Lady Rosamond and such other old friends as had been bidden to the ceremony; but no further details had as yet reached his ear, and he much longed to hear that all was well, and his friend's happiness assured. The day at first appointed for the wedding was but four days hence. He would without further delay seek out his friends in their mountain retreat, trusting to see the bloom of health once more restored to the sweet face of the Fair Maid of Gwynnon, and to learn that the glad day of her union with Percival might still be near at hand. It was not yet long after six in the evening, and the sight of a little ivy-covered church tower nestling beneath the brow of a not far-distant crag attracted Jeremy's feet thither; and reflecting that he would yet reach Glyn Helen before