But I must not linger over the history of those quiet, happy days; for happy they were spite of the secret grief and longing which no one guessed—or so I believed. I had thought the matter over and over, and had gained all the light I could from an honest Study of Holy Scripture, and I could not see that I was guilty of any sin in loving Walter Corbet. It was not sacrilege, as I had first believed, since no word in the Bible prohibited priests from marrying. I might make my love a sin, it was true, if I let it make me gloomy or discontented; if I brooded over it and occupied my thoughts therewith so as to interfere with my duties to God or man. But this I was humbly resolved not to do. My Father had laid this cross upon me, and I would bear it till he saw fit to remove it, or to change it for that crown which he hath promised to them that endure to the end. I had read some romances and tales of maids who died for love or had unworthily cast themselves away. The first might perhaps come—the last I thought never. It seemed to me, and does so seem now, that the very fact of a woman's loving honestly would make her self-respecting and discreet. Passion might make women act unworthily—true love never! Thus thinking and resolving, I went to work with all my might at whatever my hands could find to do, and I only wished it were more. Garrett Van Alstine was still rich despite a few losses, and my uncle was also well-to-do. Servants were plenty, and I soon found the Dutch maids brooked little interference with their ways. There seemed to be no indigent people; one never saw a beggar in the street; and even in the poorest parts of the town there were the same comfort and neatness, though of course not the same amount of luxury, which were found in our own neighborhood. I made a long visit to Katherine, and one to Margaret Hall, in Amsterdam. I could have found plenty to do in either place, for Kate's olive branches, as Garrett called them, had sprung very close together, and though Arthur's congregation gave according to their means for their pastor's support, yet those means were not great. There were plenty both of steps and stitches to be taken in the little parsonage, and I would have liked well to stay with Katherine, whose English ways, to tell the honest truth, suited me better than Avice's Dutch ones. Margaret Hall was, if not rich, yet well-to-do. Her school had grown to as large a size as she could manage, and both she and her husband would have liked me to take it off her hands, and have her free to help her husband in correcting of the press and the like. The work would have suited me well enough, but my uncle would not hear of my leaving him, and indeed showed more of his old choleric temper on the occasion than I had yet seen. Of course his will was my law, so I said no more about the matter.