"I heard Eve say," she went on, "that she would never build her house on the ruins of another woman's happiness; and God forbid that I should build mine on ground that has never rightly belonged to me! But I wish he had told me the truth. He has done me a greater wrong in hiding it, than in speaking it out." "Nelly," said her stepmother, tenderly, "we believe that Morgan has been a blunderer, but not a traitor. We have blundered terribly ourselves. We ought not to have let the engagement take place until we had tested the strength of his attachment. We wanted to guard you from unworthy suitors; and in taking you out of danger, we led you into sorrow." "I was very foolish," repeated Nelly, with a sigh. "Don't forget," Rhoda continued, "that God can bless those whom He puts asunder, as well as those whom He joins together. It is better to dwell apart than to live together with divided souls. He saw we were too weak and stupid to set our mistake right, and He has done it for us. While we were gazing helplessly at the knot, He cut the thread." It was on a Saturday evening that Nelly's love affair came to an end. She was in her place in church on Sunday morning, and during the rest of the day she kept much by her father's side. They had talked the matter over and over, and had arranged all their plans before the night closed in. And Nelly thanked God that the anger had gone away from her heart, although the sorrow remained. CHAPTER XVII. AN UNLOOKED-FOR RELEASE. Very early on Monday, the Golds' governess took her departure from Huntsdean. The train bore her away through the pleasant southern counties while the dew was still shining on the meadows. On and on it went; past cottages, standing amid fruit-laden trees, and gardens where Michaelmas daisies were in bloom; past yellow fields, where the corn was falling under the sickles of the reapers. Hedges were gay with Canterbury bells and ragged robins. Here and there were dashes of gold on the deep green of the woods. Eve Hazleburn, quiet and tearless, looked out upon the smiling country, and bade it a mute farewell. Afterwards, two carriages laden with luggage drove out of the village, taking the road that led to the neighbouring seaport town. The first contained the two little Channells and their nurses; in the second sat Rhoda and Nelly. And before the vehicles were out of sight, Robert Channell had turned his steps in the direction of the curate's lodging. He met the young man in the lane outside the sexton's cottage, and gave him a kindly good morning. "I am the bearer of startling news, Morgan," he said, slipping a little note into his hand. "Let us come under the shade of the churchyard trees. And now, Morgan, before you read the note, I want to ask you to forgive my Nelly." "Forgive Nelly!" stammered the curate, thinking that if all could be known it would be Nelly's part to forgive him.