She was nearer loving him at that moment, than she had ever been. Who shall attempt to bring into accord the seeming contradictions of a woman's heart? CHAPTER XXV. A GAME AT CHESS. "Life's burdens fall, its discords cease, I lapse into the glad release Of nature's own exceeding peace." WHITTIER. "I don't see," said Aunt Faith, "why the child can't come to me, Henderson, while you and Elizabeth are away. I don't believe in putting yourself under obligations to people till you're sure they're going to be something to you. Things don't always turn out according to the Almanac." "She goes just as she always has gone to the Rushleighs," replied Mr. Gartney. "Paul is to be away. It is a visit to Margaret. Still, I shall be absent at least a fortnight, and it might be well that she should divide her time, and come to Cross Corners for a few days, if it is only to see the house opened and ready. Luther can have a bed here, if Mis' Battis should be afraid." Mis' Battis was to improve the fortnight's interval for a visit to Factory Village. "Well, fix it your own way," said Miss Henderson. "I'm ready for her, any time. Only, if she's going to peak and pine as she has done ever since this grand match was settled for her, Glory and I'll have our hands full, nursing her, by then you get back!" "Faith is quite well," said Mrs. Gartney. "It is natural for a girl to be somewhat thoughtful when she decides for herself such an important relation." "Symptoms differ, in different cases. _I_ should say she was taking it pretty hard," said the old lady. Mr. and Mrs. Gartney left home on Monday. Faith and Mis' Battis remained in the house a few hours after, setting all things in that dreary "to rights" before leaving, which is almost, in its chillness and silence, like burial array. Glory came over to help; and when all was done--blinds shut, windows and doors fastened, fire out, ashes removed--stove blackened--Luther drove Mis' Battis and her box over to Mrs. Pranker's, and Glory took Faith's little bag for her to the Old House. This night she was to stay with her aunt. She wanted just this little pause and quiet before going to the Rushleighs'. "Tell Aunt Faith I'm coming," said she, as she let herself and Glory out at the front door, and then, locking it, put the key in her pocket. "I'll just walk up over the Ridge first, for a little coolness and quiet, after this busy day." There was the peace of a rested body and soul upon her face when she came down again a half hour after, and crossed the lane, and entered, through the stile, upon the field path to the Old House. Heart and will had been laid asleep--earthly plan and purpose had been put aside in all their incompleteness and uncertainty--and only God and Nature had been permitted to come near. Mr. Armstrong walked down and met her midway in the field.