These
strange absences of his had at first been a severe trial to her; but of
late years they had been a holiday time of rest, except for the
continual anxiety she felt on his behalf. Her quaint and quiet kitchen,
as she unlocked the door and entered it, seemed a haven of refuge, where
she could indulge in the tears she had kept under control till now. The
love she felt for Mr. Chantrey was so deep and true, that any sorrow of
his must have grieved her. But she knew so well what this sorrow was!
She knew through what long years it might last; and how hopeless it
might grow before the end came. Looking back upon her own blighted life,
she could foresee for him only a weary, miserable, ever-deepening
wretchedness. The Sunday afternoon passed by slowly, and the evening
came, The soft sunshine and spring showers of the morning were gone; and
a sullen sweep of rain, driven by the east wind, was beating through the
streets. A neighbor looked in to say she had seen the curate from the
next parish pass through the town toward the church; and she thought Mr.
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