Meynell went out into the dawn. His mystical sense had beheld the Lord in
that small upper room; had seen as it were the sacred hands breaking to
those two poor creatures the sacrament of love. His own mind was for the
time being tranquillized. It was as though he said to himself, "I know
that trouble will come back--I know that doubts and fears will pursue me
again; but this hour--this blessing--is from God!"...

The sun was high in a dewy world, already busy with its first labours of
field and mine, when Meynell left the cottage. The church clock was on
the stroke of eight.

He passed down the village street, and reached again the little gabled
house which he had passed the night before. As he approached, there was a
movement in the garden. A lady, who was walking among the roses, holding
up her gray dress from the dew, turned and hastened toward the gate.

"Please come in! You must be tired out. The gardener told me he'd seen
you about. We've got some coffee ready for you."

Meynell looked at the speaker in smiling astonishment.

"What are you up for at this hour?"

"Why shouldn't I be up? Look how lovely it is! I have a friend with me,
and I want to introduce you."

Miss Puttenham opened her garden gate and drew in the Rector. Behind her
among the roses Meynell perceived another lady--a girl, with bright
reddish hair.