washed away some of my trouble in my tears; the happiness
sprung to the surface; and then I could almost weep for joy
and thankfulness that I was so happy. Even if the grounds of
my happiness were precarious, I had trusted God all my life
with all I cared for; could I not trust Him still? My tears
stopped; and I believe one or two smiles could not be checked
as I remembered some look or word of Mr. Thorold's.

I was to see him the next evening; and it would behove me to
lose no time in telling him all the various matters I had
wished him to understand. It seemed to me there was something
to reconsider in my proposed communications. I had to tell him
that our correspondence must be stopped. Would he agree to
that? I had thought he would agree, and must, to anything I
desired. To-night assured me that he had a will in the matter
too, and that his will was strong. Further, it assured me that
he had a right; and knew it. Yet it was impossible that we
should write to each other without my parents' leave; and
impossible that we should gain the leave. Mr. Thorold would
have to see the matter as I looked at it; but a doubt came
over me that to make him do so might prove difficult. That was
one thing. Then about my not being an heiress. I suddenly
found a great dislike in myself to speak to him on the
subject. There was no doubt that it would be right to tell him
what I had thought to tell him; wrong not to do it; the right
and the wrong were settled; my willingness was not. A little
inner consciousness that Mr. Thorold would relish any handling
of the matter that savoured of the practical, and would
improve it for his own ends, made my cheek hot. Yet I must
tell him. The thing stood, with only an addition of