"me!" cried mrs. gaunt, in amazement: then she ran to the picture, and at sight of it every other sentiment gave way for a moment to gratified vanity. "nay," said she, beaming and blushing, "i was never half so beautiful. what heavenly eyes!"

"the fellows to 'em be in your own head, dame, this moment."

"seeing is believing," said mrs. gaunt, gaily, and in a moment she was at the priest's mirror, and inspected her eyes minutely, cocking her head this way and that. she ended by shaking it, and saying, "nay. he has flattered them prodigiously."

"not a jot," said betty. "if you could see yourself in chapel, you do turn 'em up just so, and the white shows all round." then she tapped the picture with her finger: "oh them eyes! they were never made for the good of his soul; poor simple man."

betty said this with sudden gravity: and now mrs. gaunt began to feel very awkward. "mr. gaunt would give fifty pounds for this," said she, to gain time: and, while she uttered that sentence, she whipped on her armour.

"i'll tell you what i think," said she, calmly: "he wished to paint a madonna; and he must take some woman's face to aid his fancy. all the painters are driven to that. so he just took the best that came to hand, and that is not saying much, for this is a rare ill-favoured parish: and he has made an angel of her, a very angel. there, hide me away again, or i shall long for me—to show to my husband. i must be going; i wouldn't be caught here now for a pension."

"well, if ye must," said betty; "but when will ye come again?" (she hadn't got the petticoat yet.)

"humph!" said mrs. gaunt, "i have done all i can for him; and perhaps more than i ought. but there's nothing to hinder you from coming to me. i'll be as good as my word; and i have an old paduasoy, besides; you can do something with it perhaps."

"you are very good, dame," said betty, curtsying.

mrs. gaunt then hurried away, and betty looked after her very expressively, and shook her head. she had a female instinct that mischief was brewing.

mrs. gaunt went home in a reverie.

at the gate she found her husband, and asked him to take a turn in the garden with her.

he complied; and she intended to tell him a portion, at least, of what had occurred. she began timidly, after this fashion——"my dear, brother leonard is so grateful for your flowers," and then hesitated.

"i'm sure he is very welcome," said griffith. "why doesn't he sup with us and be sociable, as father francis used? invite him; let him know he will be welcome."

sirs. gaunt blushed; and objected, "he never calls on us."

"well, well, every man to his taste," said griffith, indifferently, and proceeded to talk to her about his farm, and a sorrel mare with a white mane and tail, that he had seen, and thought it would suit her.

she humoured him, and affected a great interest in all this, and had not the courage to force the other topic on.

next sunday morning, after a very silent breakfast, she burst out, almost violently, "griffith, i shall go to the parish church with you, and then we will dine together afterwards."

"you don't mean it, kate?" said he, delighted. "ay, but i do. although you refused to go to chapel with me."

they went to church together, and mrs. gaunt's appearance there created no small sensation. she was conscious of that, but hid it, and conducted herself admirably. her mind seemed entirely given to the service, and to a dull sermon that followed.

but at dinner she broke out, "well, give me your church for a sleeping draught. you all slumbered, more or less: those that survived the drowsy, droning prayers, sank under the dry, dull dreary discourse. you snored, for one."

"nay, i hope not, my dear."

"you did, then, as loud as your bass fiddle."

"and you sat there and let me!" said griffith, reproachfully.

"to be sure i did. i was too good a wife, and too good a christian, to wake you. sleep is good for the body, and twaddle is not good for the soul. i'd have slept too, if i could; but, with me going to chapel, i'm not used to sleep at that time o' day. you can't sleep, and brother leonard speaking."

in the afternoon came mrs. gough, all in her best. mrs. gaunt had her into her bedroom, and gave her the promised petticoat, and the old peau de soie gown; and then, as ladies will, when their hand is once in, added first one thing, then another, till there was quite a large bundle.

"but how is it you are here so soon?" asked mrs. gaunt.

"oh, we had next to no sermon to-day. he couldn't make no hand of it: dawdled on a bit; then gave us his blessing, and bundled us out."

"then i've lost nothing," said mrs. gaunt.

"not you. well, i don't know. mayhap if you had been there he'd have preached his best. but la, we weren't worth it."

at this conjecture mrs. gaunt's face burned; but she said nothing: only she cut the interview short, and dismissed betty with her bundle.

as betty crossed the landing, mrs. gaunt's new lady's-maid, caroline ryder, stepped accidentally, on purpose, out of an adjoining room, in which she had been lurking, and lifted her black brows in affected surprise. "what, are you going to strip the house, my woman?" said she, quietly.

betty put down the bundle, and set her arms akimbo. "there is none on't stolen, any way," said she.

caroline's black eyes flashed fire at this, and her cheek lost colour; but she parried the innuendo skilfully.

"taking my perquisites on the sly, that is not so very far from stealing."

"oh, there's plenty left for you, my fine lady. besides, you don't want her; you can set your cap at the master, they say. i'm too old for that, and too honest into the bargain."

"too ill-favoured, you mean, ye old harridan," said ryder, contemptuously.

but, for reasons hereafter to be dealt with. betty's thrust went home: and the pair were mortal enemies from that hour.

mrs. gaunt came down from her room discomposed: from that she became restless and irritable; so much so, indeed, that, at last, sir. gaunt told her, good-humouredly enough, if going to church made her ill (meaning peevish), she had better go to chapel. "you are right," said she, "and so i will."

the next sunday she was at her post in good time.

the preacher cast an anxious glance around to see if she was there. her quick eye saw that glance, and it gave her a demure pleasure.

this day he was more eloquent than ever: and he delivered a beautiful passage concerning those who do good in secret. in uttering these eloquent sentences, his cheek glowed, and he could not deny himself the pleasure of looking down at the lovely face that was turned up to him. probably his look was more expressive than he intended: the celestial eyes sank under it, and were abashed, and the fair cheek burned: and then so did leonard's at that.

thus, subtly yet effectually, did these two minds communicate in a crowd, that never noticed nor suspected the delicate interchange of sentiment that was going on under their very eyes.

in a general way compliments did not seduce mrs. gaunt: she was well used to them, for one thing. put to be praised in that sacred edifice, 'and from the pulpit, and by such an orator as leonard, and to be praised in words so sacred and beautiful, that the ears around her drank them with delight, all this made her heart beat, and filled her with soft and sweet complacency.

and then to be thanked in public, yet, as it were, clandestinely, this gratified the furtive tendency of women.

there was no irritability this afternoon; but a gentle radiance that diffused itself on all around, and made the whole household happy; especially griffith, whose pipe she filled, for once, with her own white hand, and talked dogs, horses, calves, hinds, cows, politics, markets, hay, to please him: and seemed interested in them all.

but the next day she changed: ill at ease, and out of spirits, and could settle to nothing.

it was very hot for one thing: and, altogether, a sort of lassitude and distaste for everything overpowered her, and she retired into the grove, and sat languidly on a seat with half-closed eyes.

but her meditations were no longer so calm and speculative as heretofore. she found her mind constantly recurring to one person, and, above all, to the discovery she had made of her portrait in his possession. she had turned it off to betty gough; but here, in her calm solitude and umbrageous twilight, her mind crept out of its cave, like wild and timid things at dusk, and whispered to her heart that leonard perhaps admired her more than was safe or prudent.

then this alarmed her, yet caused her a secret complacency: and that, her furtive satisfaction, alarmed her still more.

now, while she sat thus absorbed, she heard a gentle footstep coming near. she looked up, and there was leonard close to her; standing meekly with his arms crossed upon his bosom.

his being there so pat upon her thoughts, scared her out of her habitual self-command. she started up, with a faint cry, and stood panting, as if about to fly, with, her beautiful eyes turned large upon him.

he put forth a deprecating hand, and soothed her. "forgive me, madam," said he; "i have unawares intruded on your privacy; i will retire."

"nay," said she, falteringly, "you are welcome. but no one comes here; so i was startled;" then, recovering herself, "excuse my ill-manners. 'tis so strange you should come to me here, of all places."

"nay, my daughter," said the priest, "not so very strange: contemplative minds love such places. calling one day to see you, i found this sweet and solemn grove; the like i never saw in england: and to-day i returned in hopes to profit by it. do but look around at these tall columns; how calm, how reverend! 'tis god's own temple not built with hands."

"indeed it is," said mrs. gaunt, earnestly. then, like a woman as she was, "so you came to see my trees, not me."

leonard blushed. "i did not design to return without paying my respects to her who owns this temple, and is worthy of it; nay, i beg you not to think me ungrateful."

his humility, and gentle but earnest voice, made mrs. gaunt ashamed of her petulance. she smiled sweetly, and looked pleased. however, ere long, she attacked him again. "father francis used to visit us often," said she. "he made friends with my husband, too. and i never lacked an adviser while he was here."

leonard looked so confused at this second reproach that mrs. gaunt regretted having uttered it. then he said humbly that francis was a secular priest, whereas he was convent-bred. he added, that by his years and experience francis was better fitted to advise persons of her age and sex, in matters secular, than he was. he concluded timidly that he was ready, nevertheless, to try and advise her; but could not, in such matters, assume the authority that belongs to age and knowledge of the world.

"nay, nay," said she, earnestly, "guide and direct my soul, and i am content."

he said, yes! that was his duty and his right.

then, after a certain hesitation, which at once let her know what was coming, he began to thank her, with infinite grace and sweetness, for her kindness to him.

she looked him full in the face, and said she was not aware of any kindness she had shown him worth speaking of.

"that but shows," said he, "how natural it is to you to do acts of goodness. my poor room is a very bower now, and i am happy in it. i used to feel very sad there at times; but your hand has cured me."

mrs. gaunt coloured beautifully. "you make me ashamed," said she. "things are come to a pass indeed if a lady may not send a few flowers and things to her spiritual father without being—thanked for it. and, oh, sir, what are earthly flowers compared with those blossoms of the soul you have shed so liberally over us? our immortal parts were all asleep when you came here, and wakened them by the fire of your words. eloquence! 'twas a thing i had read of, but never heard, nor thought to hear. methought the orators and poets of the church were all in their graves this thousand years, and she must go all the way to heaven, that would hear the soul's true music. but i know better now."

leonard coloured high with pleasure. "such praise from you is too sweet," he muttered. "i must not court it. the heart is full of vanity." and he deprecated further eulogy, by a movement of the hand extremely refined and, in fact, rather feminine.

deferring to his wish, mrs. gaunt glided to other matters, and was naturally led to speak of the prospects of their church, and the possibility of reconverting these islands. this had been the dream of her young heart; but marriage and maternity, and the universal coldness with which the subject had been received, had chilled her so, that of late years she had almost ceased to speak of it. even leonard, on a former occasion, had listened coldly to her; but now his heart was open to her. he was, in fact, quite as enthusiastic on this point as ever she had been; and then he had digested his aspirations into clearer forms. not only had he resolved that great britain must be reconverted, but had planned the way to do it. his cheek glowed, his eyes gleamed, and he poured out his hopes and his plans before her with an eloquence that few mortals could have resisted.

as for this, his hearer, she was quite carried away by it. she joined herself to his plans on the spot; she begged, with tears in her eyes, to be permitted to support him in this great cause. she devoted to it her substance, her influence, and every gift that god had given her: the hours passed like minutes in this high converse; and, when the tinkling of the little bell at a distance summoned him to vespers, he left her with a gentle regret he scarcely tried to conceal, and she went slowly in like one in a dream, and the world seemed dead to her for ever.

nevertheless, when mrs. ryder, combing out her long hair, gave one inadvertent tug, the fair enthusiast came back to earth, and asked her, rather sharply, who her head was running on.

ryder, a very handsome young woman, with fine black eyes, made no reply, but only drew her breath audibly hard.

i do not very much wonder at that, nor at my having to answer that question for mrs. ryder. for her head was at that moment running, like any other woman's, on the man she was in love with.

and the man she was in love with was the husband of the lady, whose hair she was combing, and who put her that curious question—plump.