"Uncle Anthony," he said, in a troubled voice, "I'm sore afeard I've not set the Lord afore me in that matter. I never saw it so afore. But now you've set me on it, I can't deny that we shouldn't pull same way. But what then? Must I give her up? Mayn't I pray the Lord to touch her heart, and give her to me, any longer?" The old man looked into the sorrowful eyes of the young man, whom he loved as dearly as if he had been his own son. "Dear lad," he said, "pray the Lord to bring her to Himself. That's safe to be His will, for He willeth not the death of a sinner. But as to giving her to thee, if I were thou, Tom, I'd leave that with Him. Meantime, thy way's plain. `Be ye not unequally yoked together.' The command's clear as daylight. Never get a clog to thy soul. Thou canst live without Jenny Lavender; but couldst thou live without Jesus Christ?" Tom shook his head, without speaking. "To tell truth, Tom, I'm not sorry she's going away. Maybe the Lord's sending her hence, either to open her eyes and send her back weary and cloyed with the world she's going into so gaily now, or else to open thine, and show thee plain, stripped of outside glitter, the real thing she is, that thou mayest see what a sorry wife she would make to a Christian man. No, I'm not sorry. And unless I mistake greatly, Tom, the time's coming when thou shalt not be sorry neither. In the meantime, `tarry thou the Lord's leisure.' If He be the chief object of thy desire, thy desire is safe to be fulfilled. `This is the will of God, even our sanctification.'" They turned to the left at the top of the hill, and went a few yards along the lane, to a little cottage embowered in ivy, which was Anthony's home. "Wilt thou come in, Tom, lad?" "No, Uncle, I thank you. You've opened my eyes, but it's made 'em smart a bit too much to face the light as yet. I'll take a sharp trudge over the moor, and battle it out with myself." "Take the Lord with thee, lad. Satan'll have thee down if thou doesn't. He's strong and full o' wiles, and if he can't conquer thee in his black robe, he'll put on a white one. There's no harm in thy saying to the Lord, `Lord, Thou knowest that I love Jenny Lavender'; but take care that it does not come before, `Lord, Thou knowest that I love _Thee_.' Maybe He's putting the same question to thee to-night, that He did to Peter at the lake-side." "Ay, ay, Uncle. I'll not forget. God bless thee!" Tom wrung old Anthony's hand, and turned away. One moment the old man paused before he went in. "Lord, Thou lovest the lad better than I do," he said, half aloud. "Do Thy best for him!" Then he lifted the latch, and met a warm welcome from his wife Persis. "Mrs Jenny, your servant!" said the smooth tones of Robin Featherstone at the farmhouse door, about twenty hours later. "The horse awaits your good pleasure, and will only be less proud to bear you than I shall to ride before you."