"Nay!" said he. "Where do we hear now of bodies of men and women retiring to devote themselves to God and His service, as in those days? Now every priest must have his house and his wife and children. The service of His Maker is not enough for him." "You can hardly expect me to quarrel with that, since I am a priest's daughter," said I, laughing. "And does not St. Paul himself say both of bishops and deacons that they should be the husband of one wife? Besides," I added, more soberly, "I see no need of people retiring into convents and abbeys to serve God. Why should we not serve him in the daily work He has given us to do?" "'Tis a good thought, at least," he said, and so we parted good friends at last. _April 20._ Well, Easter is passed and gone. I know not whether I spent it well or ill. I did not go to the service in the chapel, but, with my Lady's permission, walked down to the church in the village. The old rector preached on the Resurrection—a mild and gentle sermon enough, not very deep or brilliant, as are Mr. Carey's, nor so solemn and awful as those of Mr. Penrose, but somehow I felt it comforting and soothing; and though I shed many tears, they were not all sad. I went to the Sacrament with fear and trembling, but the words, "Come unto me!"—and the others did seem a voice bidding me draw near—so I went. There were a good many communicants, and all were serious and devout. I specially noticed a large and majestic old man, supported by his son, as I suppose, who approached the table. He stumbled a little at the step, whereat Mr. Corbet, whom I had not seen before, came forward and took his other arm. After the service, as I waited a little in the church-yard to speak to Mistress Parnell, this same old man came out of the church door, leaning on Mr. Corbet's arm. "And so, Master Watty, your lady mother is coming among us again?" I heard the old man say. "I hope I shall be able to pay my duty to her, but the path grows steep to my old feet nowadays." Mr. Corbet made him some pleasant answer, and then fell into conversation with the son—a man of about his own age. Meantime, Doctor and Mistress Parnell came along and spoke to me. "Did you not have service in the chapel at the Court to-day?" asked the Doctor, after he had saluted me politely. "I understood it was to be so?" I told him that it was so, but that my Lady had given me leave to walk down to the village. "The parish church seems to me so much more pleasant and homelike than the chapel!" I ventured to add. "It does not seem like the church, where there are no poor people, and no school children." The train of school-girls passed us at this moment, with their mistress walking behind them, and leaning on the arm of the oldest girl. She was quite elderly, and looked feeble, but had one of the finest and sweetest faces I ever saw.