Three months passed, and Douglass Gilmour had won the good-will of high and low in the parish of St. James's, Rathbury. Even Mrs. Manning was won over to acknowledge that any mother might thank God for such a son, any girl be proud to possess the affection of so good a man. Looking from the window on this particular afternoon, she caught glimpses of a white dress flitting here and there among the trees. Beside it was a tall figure, "every inch a man," to guide, shield, and support the girl who should trust herself to him as a partner for life. A man and a Christian, bright, earnest, true! And the mother wished she could add "rich," for the sweet, shy face and tender grace of the girl formed so lovely a contrast to the partner of her walk that she owned to herself Nature had seldom formed two more fitted to walk together. "And that is the worst of it," thought she. "Elsie has such a good excuse for liking Mr. Gilmour. Twenty times more than ever Mary had for choosing Charles Peyton, and yet she found more to say than I could answer." Another glance out of the window. The wearer of the white dress was sauntering back alone, having parted with her companion. And the mother, looking back through the years, found in the memory of one short day in her own young life a key to the happy light which shed its radiance over the fair face of her youngest darling. Even that memory could not conquer the motherly ambition—she called it prudence—on behalf of her child, and she resolved to have a little talk with Elsie then and there. CHAPTER III. "ELSIE, dear, I thought Mr. Gilmour was coming in for a cup of tea, and to say 'Good-bye.' Is he coming?" "No, mother; he had to do some visiting, and could not stay. He asked me to say Good-bye, and he will endeavour to send you particulars to-morrow about that case he has been inquiring into for you." "Where did Mr. Gilmour leave you, Elsie?" "At the gate, mother dear. He asked me to see him safe off the premises." A little light laugh and a pretty blush followed this reply. "Elsie, dear, he comes here a great deal." "Yes, he seems to like us all very much. He is especially fond of—you and Uncle Edward. You ought to be much flattered, for everybody wants to see him often, and everybody cannot, though none of the poor people are ever forgotten in his round." "But, my dear, do you think you should have gone to the gate with Mr. Gilmour? You are very young, dear child, and very apt to do just what comes into your head."