Alas! How soon had their day been over-clouded! She turned aside to the window and looked out at the cathedral through a mist of tears, hearing the scratching of her mother’s pen with a dull heartache. Presently down in the street below she saw a very carefully-dressed, spruce little lady, with grey curls and a benevolent face. It was kind-hearted Mrs. Joyce Jefferies, speaking to a little bare-footed lad and making him happy with a penny. In taking out her purse she dropped her handkerchief, and Hilary, running swiftly out of the room, threw open the front door and hastened to restore the handkerchief to its owner, The old maiden lady thanked her, but noticed the sad look in her eyes. “What is amiss, child?” she asked, stroking the girl’s cheek. “I met you riding this morning with a very different face.” “Nothing lasts!” said Hilary, with tears in her voice. “Yes, one thing,” said Mrs. Joyce Jefferies, a light dawning in her kind eyes. “There is an old poem in which you will find a truer saying, ‘All goeth but Godde’s will.’” The gentle little lady walked on, but although she said nothing, she was able to make a shrewd guess that her god-son, Gabriel Harford, was in some way the cause of Hilary’s trouble, and on reaching her house in Widemarsh street, she penned him a note inviting him to dine with her one day in the next week. Hilary did not return to the withdrawing-room for fully half-an-hour, and then found that her mother was only just folding the formal letter, which had been hard to write. “May I enclose this to Gabriel, ma’am?” said the girl, putting a tiny sealed packet on the table. “I do not think your grandfather would approve of a correspondence between you,” said Mrs. Unett, hesitating. “’Tis not a letter--I will show it to you, if you wish, mother.” The mother looked up into the dark eyes, saw the traces of tears, and forgot the Bishop’s prudent objections. “I will send it, child,” she said, kissing her tenderly. “Do not think that I have forgot my own young days. And bear not so sad a face, Hilary, for I have great confidence in Gabriel, and would spare you to him in the future, more willingly than to any other man.” Hilary’s face lighted up at these comfortable words. Surely time would prove to everyone’s satisfaction that they were indeed well suited to each other. To fill up the hours of waiting Gabriel had gone out fishing, and when the light failed he lay on the bank of the river watching the dark trees as they stood out russet, grey and purple against the mellow evening sky, their heavy summer foliage hardly moving, so still was the air. All the world seemed beautiful, and he was far too happy to have any doubts. What could stand in his way when Hilary herself had owned her love? Not all the bishops in England could really interfere between them! And over and over in his mind there rang her softly spoken words, “I give you my heart.”