need to pose; never again be forced into conflict with her soul. She
had chosen the better part; she had given up everything and followed
after wisdom; and her life would be her justification. Who but knows
the inward peace that descends upon him who makes good resolutions
and abides with him till he suddenly discovers they have all been
broken? And what does the breaking of them matter, since it is their
making that is so wholesome, so bracing to the soul, bringing with it
moments of such extreme blessedness that he misses much who gives it
up for fear he will not keep them? Such blessed moments of lifting up
of the heart were Priscilla's as she sat in the churchyard waiting,
invisibly surrounded by the most beautiful resolutions it is possible
to imagine. The Rev. Edward Morrison, the vicar of whom I have spoken
as venerable, coming slowly up the path leaning on his son's arm with
the intention of going into the church in search of a mislaid
sermon-book, saw Priscilla's thoughtful back under the elm-tree and
perceived at once that it was a back unknown to him. He knew all the
Symford backs, and tourists hardly ever coming there, and never at
that time of the year, it could not, he thought, be the back of a
tourist. Nor could it belong to any one staying with the
Shuttleworths, for he had been there that very afternoon and had found
Lady Shuttleworth rejoicing over the brief period of solitude she and
her son were enjoying before the stream of guests for the coming of
age festivities began.

"Robin, what girl is that?" asked the vicar of his son.

"I'm sure I don't know," said Robin.

"She'll catch cold," said the vicar.