"Shall I ever forget that day--it was Eastertide--and all that belonged to it? the last unclouded Sunday that was ever to rise upon me; the tiny flower-decked church already crowded with worshipers, the memorial window that Raby and Margaret had put in, sacred to the memory of their father, with its glorious colors reflected on the pavement in stains of ruby and violet; and lastly, the grave beautiful face of the young vicar as he looked round upon his little flock for the first time, his eyes resting for a moment as though in silent benediction on the vicarage seat. "Were I to tell you what I thought of that sermon, you might think my praise partial, but there were many there, Hugh Redmond among them, who commented afterward on the eloquence and vivid power of the preacher. Hugh Redmond had accompanied us to church, for he and Margaret had been engaged some months, and they were always together. He declared that that sermon had made a deep impression on him. "Many were affected that day by Raby's deep searching eloquence, but none more so than a lady who sat alone under the pulpit, and who drew down her crape veil that no one might see her tears. "I knew her well; she was a childless widow who had lately come to live at Sandycliffe in a pretty cottage about half a mile from the Grange, and with whom Margaret had become very intimate--a fair gentle-looking woman who had gone through much trouble, and who wished to devote her life to good works; and as I looked at her now, my own eyes misty with sympathy, did I ever imagine that the time was fast approaching when I should wrong her with the bitterest hatred, and even seek to lift my hand against her. "And yet you were one of God's dear saints, Mona! "The service over, we lingered for a moment in the shady church-yard, Hugh and Margaret and I, until Raby should join us. He came out at last, a little pale and tired-looking. Margaret met him, her eyes shining like stars. "'Oh, Raby,' she faltered, 'God has given me my heart's desire.' He smiled, but his hand went out to the girl standing silently behind him. "'What does my child say?' he whispered, when the others had gone on a little; but I had no answer ready, he was so good, so far above me. With a sudden impulse I lifted the kind hand to my lips as though he were a king. * * * * * "Raby was very zealous in his profession. There was so little to do in Sandycliffe, but he offered himself as coadjutor to the vicar of Pierrepoint, and as there was a large poor population there, he and Margaret, and Mrs. Grey, his faithful helper, found plenty of scope for their energies. "Mrs. Grey had no ties, she was rich and lonely, and she sought relief from her sick heart in ministering to the needs of others. Her health was delicate, and the air of Sandycliffe suited her--she had taken a fancy to the place; and the pretty cottage she rented was more to her taste than her house at South Kensington.