He shook hands warmly with the young man, and an emotion, very deep and heart-felt, vibrated in his voice. “May the blessings of God be on you both,” he said. For a single moment Frank felt as if the thermometer had dropped suddenly, but the sensation was so instantaneous that before he could analyze it it had passed, and Mr. Challoner still held his hand in his strong, firm grasp. “And I think, I believe, she is a very fortunate girl,” he added. “When--when did you speak to her?” “This morning only. We settled to tell you at once.” “Thank you. That was right of you. How the years pass; why it seems only yesterday---- Well, well,--let us join them outside. Ah, a cigar for you. I declare I had forgotten.” They crossed the lawn together, and as they approached the group of chairs underneath the box-hedge, Mr. Challoner quickened his step a little and advanced to Helen with hands outstretched. “Helen, my dearest girl,” he said. * * * * * The glorified hours of the golden afternoon passed too quickly. Parish work soon claimed the vicar, who, as he passed through the village, gave notice in the school that the choir-practice was postponed till the next day; Aunt Clara betook herself to district-visiting, and the two were left alone again while the shadows began to grow tall on the grass. Sweet words and sweeter silence sang duets together, and from talk and silence they learned each other. For their falling in love had been an instinctive inevitable thing, and now that the gracious deed was accomplished, they explored each other’s nature in the excellent brightness of the love-light. “Lazy, frightfully lazy,” said he. “Will you take that in hand for me? With the unaccountable delusion, by the way, that I am extremely hard-worked. I lie in bed in the morning, and groan at the thought of all that I shall have to do before I go to bed again. After a very long time I get up--and don’t do it. Helen, how could you have been in the world all these years and I not know it?” “Oh, what does it matter now? For here we are, and for all the rest of the years we shall both know it. Yes, you shall get up at seven every morning. I will wake you myself.” “That will be nice. And I needn’t get up at once? And what am I to do when I do get up?” “Why, all the things you lie groaning about,” she said. “But there aren’t any, really. At least nothing to groan about.” “Now you’re talking nonsense. I don’t mind, though. You talked a good deal of nonsense on that Sunday, the hare-Sunday, you and Lady Sunningdale. How is she?” “I forget. I forget everything but--this!” She bent towards him. “Am I really all that to you?” she asked. “Yes, all. More than all.” After a while she spoke again. “And you have no back-thought? There is no dark place at all, no shadow of any kind?” He looked up quickly. “Yes, a possible shadow,” he said. “Religion?” “Yes; it had occurred to you, too, then. What do you expect?”