hurried to the vestry, tore off his surplice and threw it on the floor, met Evadne as she left the church, and lingered long on the cliffs with her in earnest conversation. She was late for breakfast that morning, and her mother asked her what had detained her. "Mr. Borthwick was talking to me about the sacraments of the Church, mother," she answered, her calm true eyes meeting her mother's without confusion; "and about the necessity for, and the advantage of, frequent communions." "And what do you think about it, dear?" "I think I should like it." Her mother said no more. Young Borthwick was a cadet of good family with expectations in the way of money, influence enough to procure him a deanery at least, and with a reputation for ability which, with his other advantages, gave him as fair a prospect as anybody she knew of a bishopric eventually--just the thing for Evadne, she reflected, so she did not interfere. This was really a happy time for Evadne. The young priest frequently met her after the early service, and she liked his devotion. She liked his clean-featured, close-shaven face too, and his musical voice. He was her perfection of a priest, and when he did not meet her she missed him. She did not care for him so much when he called at the house, however. She associated him somehow with her morning moods, with religious discourses, and the Church service; but when he ventured beyond these limits, they lost touch, and so she held him down to them rigorously. He tried to resist. He even conceived a distaste for ecclesiastical subjects, and endeavoured to float her attention from these on little boats of fancy phrases made out of the first freshness of new days, the beauty of the sun on the sea, the jade-green of grass on the cliffs, the pleasure he took in the songs of birds, and other more mundane matters; but he lost her sympathetic interest when he did so, receiving her polite attention instead, which was cold in comparison, and therefore did not satisfy him, so he determined to try and come to a perfect understanding, and during one of their morning walks, he startled her by making her a solemn and abrupt offer of marriage. She considered the proposition in silence for some time. Then she looked at him as if she had never seen him before. Then she said, not knowing she was cruel, and only desiring to be frank: "I have never thought of you as a man, you know--only as a priest; and in that character I think you perfect. I respect and reverence you. I even love you, but--" "But what?" he asked eagerly, his delicate face flushing, his whole being held in suspense. "But I could not marry a priest. It would seem to be a sort of sacrilege." She was very pale when she went in that morning, and her mother noticed it, and questioned her. "Mr. Borthwick asked me to marry him, mother," she answered straight to the point, as was her wont. "He surprised me." "I am not surprised, dear," her mother rejoined, smiling.