Innocent all her true history. He could not help being impressed
by its old-world peace and beauty, furnished as it was in perfect
taste, with its window-outlook on a paradise of happy flowers
rejoicing in the sunlight. The fragrance of sweet lavender scented
the air, and a big china bowl of roses in the centre of the table
gave a touch of tender brightness to the old oak panelling on the
walls.

"There are things in this room that are priceless!" soliloquised
the clergyman, who was something of a collector--"If the place
comes under the hammer I shall try to pick up a few pieces."

He smiled, with the pleased air of one who feels that all things
must have an end--either by the "hammer" or otherwise,--even a
fine old house, the pride and joy of a long line of its owners
during three hundred years. And then he started, as the door
opened slowly and softly and a girl stood before him, looking more
like a spirit than a mortal, clad in a plain white gown, with a
black ribbon threaded through her waving fair hair. She was pale
to the very lips, and her eyes were swollen and heavy with
weeping. Timidly she held out her hand.

"It is kind of you to come," she said,--and paused.

He, having taken her hand and let it go again, stood awkwardly
mute. It was the first time he had seen Innocent in her home
surroundings, and he had hardly noticed her at all when he had by
chance met her in her rare walks through the village and
neighbourhood, so that he was altogether unprepared for the
refined delicacy and grace of her appearance.