When the butler had gone, she ran to the tall mirror and readjusted her hair once more and felt to make sure that her belt was in position on her lithe young waist. She was glad that she happened to have on a presentable dress, so that she need not keep the minister waiting. As she slowly went down-stairs she tried in vain to guess why it was that Dr. Thurston wanted to see her particularly. She knew that John had had a pew in Dr. Thurston's church for years and that he was accustomed to give liberally to all its charities. She had heard of the beautiful sermon the doctor had preached when John was left a widower, and so she almost dreaded meeting the minister for the first time all alone. She lost a little of her habitual buoyancy at the fear lest he should not like her. When she entered the drawing-room--which seemed so ugly in her eyes then that she was ready to apologize for it--the minister greeted her with a reserved smile. "I trust you will pardon this early visit, Mrs. Blackstock--" he began. "It is very good of you to come and see me so soon, Dr. Thurston," she interrupted, a little nervously, as she dropped into a chair. "It is a privilege no less than a duty, my dear young lady," he returned, affably, resuming his own seat, "for me to be one of the first to welcome to her new home the wife of an old friend. There is no man in all my congregation for whom I have a higher regard than I have for John Blackstock." The young wife did not quite like to have her husband patronized even by the minister of his church, but smiled sweetly as she replied, "It is so kind of you to say that--and I am sure that there is no one whose friendship John values more than he does yours, Doctor." The minister continued gravely, as though putting this compliment aside. "Yes, I think I have a right to call your husband an old friend. He joined my church only a few months after I was called to New York, and that is nearly fifteen years ago--a large part of a man's life. I have observed him under circumstances of unusual trial, and I can bear witness that he is made of sterling stuff. I was with him when he had to call upon all his fortitude to bear what is perhaps the hardest blow any man is required to submit to--the unexpected loss of the beloved companion of his youth." Dr. Thurston paused here; and the bride did not know just what to say. She could not see why the minister should find it necessary to talk to her of the dead woman, who had been in her thoughts all the afternoon. "Perhaps it may seem strange to you, Mrs. Blackstock," he went on, after an awkward silence, "that I should at this first visit and at this earliest opportunity of speech with you--that I should speak to you of the saintly woman who was John Blackstock's first wife. I trust that you will acquit me of any intention of offending you, and I beg that you will believe that I have mentioned her only because I have a solemn duty before me."