He read Nelly's note again. It was a very commonplace little letter, written in a sloping, feminine hand. She used that stereotyped phrase which, hackneyed as it is, does as well or better than any other, "I feel we are not suited for each other." This was the sole excuse offered for breaking the engagement, and surely it was excuse enough. How could he know that these few trite sentences had been written in the anguish of a woman's first great sorrow? We don't recognise the majesty of woe when it masquerades in every-day garments. It needs a Divine sight to find out the real heroes and heroines of life. If Morgan had been questioned about Nelly, the term "heroine" would have been the very last that he would have applied to her. And yet Nelly, quite unconsciously, had acted in the true spirit of heroism. By-and-by the sense of relief began to make itself felt, and Morgan's heart grew wonderfully light. He went through his usual routine of duties, and then took his way to the rectory. He must give the rector timely notice of his intention to resign his curacy. Meanwhile Robert Channell had proceeded to Laurel House. Mrs. Gold received him in a depressed manner. Her governess, she said, had left her; and she seemed to consider that Miss Hazleburn had used her unkindly. She did not know how such a useful person could be replaced. Nobody would ever satisfy her so well as Miss Hazleburn had done. Yes, she could give the governess's address to Mr. Channell. She had chosen to go to Warwickshire, to live with an invalid lady. Mrs. Gold hoped she would find the post unbearably dull, and return to her former situation. "There is little probability of that," thought Robert Channell, as he went his way with the address in his pocket-book. And then he thought of Nelly's face and voice when she had stated her intention of giving up Mr. Myrtle's legacy to Eve. "I won't keep anything that isn't fairly mine," she had said; "let her have both the lover and the money." Eve never ceased to wonder how the Channells had found out that Mr. Myrtle had owed her father three thousand pounds. October had just set in when Eve and Morgan met again. It was Sunday morning, and she was on her way to that beautiful old church which is the chief glory of the city of C----. The bells were chiming; the ancient street was bright with autumn light; far above them rose the tall spire, rising high into the calm skies. They said very little to each other at that moment. A great deal had already been said on paper, and they could afford to be quiet just then. Together they entered the church, a happy pair of worshippers, "singing and making melody in their hearts to the Lord." "A thousand times happier," Eve remarked afterwards, "than we could ever have dared to be if another had suffered for our joy." CHAPTER XVIII. WHAT GOD HATH JOINED TOGETHER.