could have against the advances of certain would-be country lovers, from whose worship all Jack's vigilance and her own shy dignity and reticence could scarce entirely protect her. Not least among her pleasures were the services held within the little church on the hillside above the old monastery, where good old Master Rhys daily said Matins and Even-song, in spite of the ridicule of Master Jones and his followers, and whither the sound of the bells, calling across the hills to prayer, would often attract her feet as she returned from some early morning or late afternoon ramble. Sometimes the white-haired old man and the golden-haired child were the only worshippers in the still summer silence, but Primrose learned to love more and more those few quiet moments, stolen from her books or her playtime, and especially she loved to gaze through the unpainted windows at their waving background of green branches, swaying gently to and fro in the breeze, and forming around the tiny church a soft, mysterious green curtain, full of gentle whisperings and soothing motion. One window only of rich painted glass could the little building boast, placed at the east end some few years before by the present Lord Bryn Afon to his father's memory; and when a tiny child, the rich colours streaming from this beautiful window upon the marble floor of the chancel had ever wondrously fascinated the eye of Little Miss Primrose, who more than once, having tarried behind Jack on leaving the church, had been discovered at full length upon the chancel stones, trying to gather up the glowing colours with her hand! Jack scarcely knew when it was that the first strange, unwonted shadow stole over his darling's hitherto unclouded happiness, and indeed Primrose herself could scarcely trace in her own heart its beginning, but as she grew out of her childhood, it sometimes seemed to his watchful eye as though some spirit of evil were wrestling with the bright young soul, clouding its joy and veiling its sunshine. Only for a short time and at intervals was he conscious of this change, but he knew too well every mood of his foster-child for it to pass unnoticed, and though she never spoke of it, and he scarcely dared ask her if any secret thought troubled her, he did not fail to note the paled cheek and the troubled look in the dark eyes, nor the sudden quieting of the girl's dancing footstep, and her long hiding of herself in some secret nook by the riverside, whence she would return, when the fit had passed, unable or unwilling to give further account of herself than that she had "been thinking." But Jack could never satisfy himself that "thinking" could be enough to blanch his darling's cheek and fringe with such black shadows her beautiful eyes; yet, while hoping that she might open her heart to him, he shrank from seeking the confidence she was evidently unwilling to give.