here, and a word there, now and again, in
favour of Miss Turtle. Won't you, now ?
Benjy thinks a deal of what you say."

Thus the old woman prattled on.
By-and-bye Mr. Plew's step was heard on the
gravel path outside. And his mother
hastily whispered to Maud a prayer that
she would not say a word to "Benjy"
about the confidence she had been making.
Then the surgeon came in, and had his
tea at the side table. And they all sat and
chatted softly in the twilight. It was such
a peaceful scene; the little parlour was so
clean and fragrant with the smell of dried
lavender; the scanty, old-fashioned furniture
shone with such a speckless polish; the
clear, evening sky was seen through window-panes
as bright as crystal, and the little
surgeon and his mother looked the embodiment
of cozy domestic comfort. How
strange it was, Maud thought, to consider
Mr. Plew in the light of an object of
romantic attachment. Strange, too, to
think of his being a victim to hopeless love.
He ate his strawberry jam with as quiet a
relish as though the beautiful Veronica
Levincourt had never dazzled his eyes, or
made his pulse beat quickly. Surely it
would be good for him to have a kind
little wife to take care of him!

When she was walking home through
the Shipley lanes with Mr. Plew, Maud
endeavoured to lead the conversation on to
the subject of Miss Turtle's merits. Mr.
Plew, however, replied absently and
mono-syllabically to her shyly-uttered remarks.
At length, as they neared the vicarage,
Mr. Plew stood still. He took off his hat
so as to let the evening air blow on his
forehead, and looked up at the transparent
sky, wherein a few stars twinkled faintly.

"Miss Desmond," he said, " I have not
had an opportunity of saying a word to
you since this morning. I should not have
mentioned her to you had not the vicar
told me that you went to see her in
London. It was very good of you to see her.
God bless you for it, Miss Desmond!"

This was so unexpected that Maud could
find no word to say in reply.

"How was she looking? Is she
changed?"

"Very little changed, I think; certainly
not less beautiful."

"And did you see the the man she
is going to marry?"

"No."

"Did she speak of him to you? Look
here, Miss Desmond, you need not be
afraid to talk to me of Veronica freely and
openly. I understand your kindness and
delicacy. You think, perhaps, that it might
pain me to hear certain things. But,
indeed, to think that she will be happy gives
me great comfort. I am not selfish, Miss
Desmond."

"I think that you are most unselfish,
most generous, and it only pains me very
much to think of your goodness being
unappreciated."

Maud spoke with warmth, and a tear
came into her eye. She was remembering
the vicar's harsh, unfeeling behaviour in the
morning.

" Oh, you praise me a great deal too
highly," said Mr. Plew, looking at her with
genuine surprise. " The fact is that I
always knew Veronica to be far above me.
I never had any real hope, though I — I—
Sometimes she liked to talk to me, and
I was fool enough to fancy for a
moment— But that was not her fault, you
know. She could not be held responsible
for my vanity. When she went away," he
pursued in a low voice, almost like one
talking to himself, " I thought at first that
I had got a death-blow. For weeks I believe
I did not rightly know what I was saying
and doing.  I suppose there was some kind
of instinct in me that kept me from doing
anything wild or outrageous enough to get
me locked up for a madman. But at the
worst, my grief was more for her than
myself: it was, as true as God's in Heaven!
I'm not a fierce man by nature, but if I
could have got hold of — of that villain, I
would have killed him with no more
compunction than you'd crush a viper. But
any man that marries her and treats her
well, there's nothing I wouldn't do to serve
him — nothing! All love is over for me. I
know my own shortcomings, and I blame
no one. But she was the first and the last.
I know my poor mother wants me to marry.
But it can't be, Miss Desmond. I'm sorry
for her disappointment, poor soul! I try
to be good to her. She has been a very
good mother to me, bless her! If it had
been possible for Veronica to come back
free, and to have held out her hand to me,
I couldn't have taken it. She could never
be the same woman I loved any more. But
neither can I love any other. I dare say
you don't understand the feeling. I cannot
explain it to myself. Only I know it is so,
and must be so, for as long as I have to
live." Then suddenly breaking off, and
looking penitently at Maud, he said, " Oh
forgive me, Miss Desmond! I boasted of
not being selfish, just now, and here I am