"You have got some other notion into your head about Anna Spencer," he said. "I have. I believe that there is a man to whom she would not say 'No,' were he to ask the question I never dared to put into words. Not, mind you, that she would, even by a look, do aught to draw a man on for the sake of a petty triumph, or even betray her real feelings unsought. But I suppose certain feelings of one's own, make a looker-on clear-sighted. I have my opinion on the subject." "More's the pity, for your words can only point to one individual. Poor fellow! His circumstances bind him to silence. He can never speak, let him feel what he may." And Mr. Worthington was going to tell part of what he knew about Arthur Glyn's past and his quiet self-devotion, but Mr. Ulyett stopped him. "I knew Worsley Glyn, his father. No need to tell me what a weight that young fellow's shoulders have had to carry from his very boyhood." Then, turning the conversation, he went into some little details concerning a blanket distribution amongst the fishermen's wives at Cray Thorpe, and these lasted until the carriage came to take the rector home. I am afraid, when Arthur Glyn returned to his fireside at the same hour, his dream repeated itself, and even Esther's entrance with the bedroom candle did not put an end to it this time. CHAPTER IV. CHRISTMAS morning came, and the overladen postmen left greetings at the world's door, literally by the million. Arthur Glyn was not forgotten. The little sister and her intended sent quite a budget of loving wishes, bright hopes—heartfelt regrets, too, that the dear brother could not be with them. Hilda, far-away in the sunny South, had timed her letter so that Arthur might have it just at Christmas. There were more cards and letters still, and amongst the latter just one at which the curate looked distrustfully. He had been trying to make a few hearts more glad by his kindly thought, and when he expended a trifle for Esther and the white-headed urchins, had felt sorry that his slender purse and the claims upon it would let him do no more or better. Arthur hoped that letter boded no evil. He did not know how he could bear it to-day; but he had been somewhat disturbed by a rather urgent appeal for the balance of one of his father's debts—the largest of those for which he had bound himself. The creditor was retiring from business, a prosperous man, and was not in need of immediate payment, but he wanted to straighten his books finally, and "could Mr. Glyn oblige him with the trifling balance?" It was nearly a hundred pounds, and Arthur had not ten. The incident made him uneasy and down-hearted for the moment; but, like Hezekiah of old, he prayed, spreading his letter before the Lord.