philosophy has been increasingly rapid and fruitful. I am deeply conscious how little I may be able to express it. But those who twenty years ago welcomed the earlier book--and how can I ever forget its reception in America!--may perhaps be drawn once again to some of the old themes in their new dress. MARY A. WARD ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHARLES E. BROCK "'My dear fellow! No woman ought to marry under nineteen or twenty'" The Rectory "Meynell, as he hesitatingly advanced, became the spectator of a scene not intended for his eyes" "He shook hands with the Dean" "'I wonder whether she's ever had any real joy--a week's--a day's--happiness--in her life?'" "The old shepherd looked after her doubtfully" BOOK I MEYNELL "Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear The longest date do melt like frosty rime, That in the morning whitened hill and plain And is no more; drop like the tower sublime Of yesterday, which royally did wear His crown of weeds, but could not even sustain Some casual shout that broke the silent air, Or the unimaginable touch of Time." CHAPTER I "Hullo, Preston! don't trouble to go in." The postman, just guiding his bicycle into the Rectory drive, turned at the summons and dismounted. The Rector approached him from the road, and the postman, diving into his letter-bag and into the box of his bicycle, brought out a variety of letters and packages, which he placed in the Rector's hands. The recipient smiled. "My word, what a post! I say, Preston, I add to your burdens pretty considerably." "It don't matter, sir, I'm sure," said the postman civilly. "There's not a deal of letters delivered in this village." "No, we don't trouble pen and ink much in Upcote," said the Rector; "and it's my belief that half the boys and girls that do learn to read and write at school make a point of forgetting it as soon as they can--for all practical purposes, anyway." "Well, there's a deal of newspapers read now, sir, compared to what there was." "Newspapers? Yes, I do see a _Reynolds_ or a _People_ or two about on Sunday. Do you think anybody reads much else than the betting and the police news, eh, Preston?" Preston looked a little vacant. His expression seemed to say, "And why should they?" The Rector, with his arms full of the post, smiled again and turned away, looking back, however, to say: "Wife all right again?" "Pretty near, sir; but she's had an awful bad time, and the doctor--he makes her go careful." "Quite right. Has Miss Puttenham been looking after her?" "She's been most kind, sir, most attentive, she have," said the postman warmly, his long hatchet face breaking into animation. "Lucky for you!" said the Rector, walking away. "When she cuts in, she's worth a regiment of doctors. Good-day!" The speaker passed on through the gate of the Rectory, pausing as he did so with a rueful look at the iron gate itself, which was off its hinges and sorely in want of a coat of new paint.