"I want to ask you if you consider a promise binding."

"Generally speaking, yes."

A shade of disappointment deepened the gravity of her expression. She sat revolving his reply.

"There may be exceptional casesI think," she said, quietly.

"Yes; a promise must be voluntary, and the one who gives a promise must know its nature. Fraud used in obtaining a promise would invalidate it. I am not familiar with the legal view of your question, but it is the moral side of it that interests you."

"Yes, the moral side. I made a promise-once, and I made it willingly. I really believed at the time that I was

Aston raised her eyes to the rector's. "Something has occurred to change your opinions in the matter?"

"I am changed. When I gave my word to do certain things, I know now that I was incapable of forming a clear conception of my duty. I was nervous, depressed, and weak. Myjudgment

weakness to mental strength, consequent upon physical condition?"

"Yes; besides, the strength came gradually, and with it the chance to think. I have been alone, away from prejudiced people. I have seen myself as I was, a victim of nervousness and mistaken kindness. Had I remained in the city, this insight of my own. position would have been impossible. Even had I grown strong, the governing influences would have held me in the path I was taking. Do you know, I honestly believed that I was doing right?"

was warped. I was influenced by people physically strong, people whom I was accustomed to honor and trust. I was not mistress of myself."

"Will not those to whom you made this promise accept your present explanation, and release you from it?"

"I fear not. This is why I have come to you. Suppose I urge all these reasons, and they positively refuse to release me, what shall I do?"

Mr. Carey rose, put his hands behind him, and walked back and forth, a habit when he was cogitating the important points in his sermons.

"This is an appeal from mental

'Yes; I understand that morbid

state, in which we all find ourselves at times. We think conscience is guiding us, when we are simply yielding to our desires, our passions, and our prejudices. Mrs. Aston, I will ask you, is your happiness involved in this question?"

She hesitated; her cheeks flushed.

My peace of mind is. I cannot keep this promise!"

66

You are quite

satisfied that con

science and reason are controlling you now?"

"And my duty to others. I used to consider and cherish my own rights. Now I can recognize the rights of others. We cannot live to ourselves."

"By all means, obey your conscience. A promise which causes unhappiness and injustice should not be kept. But no sensible person would hold you to a promise made under the circumstances you describe."

"Oh! do you think so?" she cried, joyfully. "How happy you make me!"

"I see." Mr. Carey looked at her shining eyes. "You have only to speak and look as you do now, and you will win your case. Any one who loves

"And if my advice helps you, imagine how gratified I feel. Mrs. Aston, you impress me as being fully qualified to judge what is morally your duty. You are in perfect health, competent to consider the matter in all its relations. The more important it is, the greater the necessity for you to regard it calmly and reason out the effects of your individual conduct upon all concerned. If you can assume the position of an impartial witness, and view yourself dispassionately while reaching the conclusions that you intend shall govern your future actions, I think you may be trusted in your decision."

Mrs. Aston put out her hand.

"I suppose I ought to be more explicit but I

"No, not at all. Protect your own secrets. A clear mind, a kind heart, and a sensitive conscience can solve any problem that a Christian has to face." Mr. Carey pressed her hand. "Pray, my child, for light, for serenity, for the wisdom and the divine strength to do to others as we would have them do

to us. Love is mighty."

Mrs. Aston looked steadily at Mr. Carey while he spoke; then she rose and turned to the door.

"I think I will go home now. You have helped me. You have said what I was hungry to hear. Your words are

like an anchor."

Shall Mrs. Carey and I walk with

you? It is a lovely night."

"That would be charming."

CHAPTER XII.

THE moon was an enchantress; the three friends moved under its shadows, silent, sympathetic, and pleased to watch. the landscape. At Mrs. Aston's gate they paused to linger a few moments in the sweet air. Mrs. Aston had been in a reverie. Good-night," she said,

gayly. "To-morrow, Mrs. Carey, I am going to make another attempt. How early may we come?"

"To breakfast, if you will, and I wish you would. The mornings are so lovely. Reggy can have plenty of fresh milk, and I will find him some toys. A baby in the house is Mr. Carey's dream of earthly bliss."

"Then we'll come to breakfast, Reggy and I. The dear little man will be delighted. He is always perfectly satisfied with me." She laughed contentedly at this idea.

"She is very lovable," said Mr. Carey, as the door closed on Mrs. Aston. "No wonder the child is perfectly satisfied' to be with her."

"She has such an easy method with him. She lets him alone. Dear me, how much interest she has added to my existence !-she and Mr. Cortis. I had no idea that a few persons of whom we had never heard a short time ago could make such a difference in one's everyday life."

"I hope they will stay here. Cortis is unconsciously revolutionizing the town. I see gardens being made in every direction. Old fields that haven't been touched for years are ploughed and planted with something. He has made industry the fashion. When a man who can't use his eyes insists on doing good work every day, and controls a fellow like Watkins, people begin to think and wonder."

"He has plenty of individuality," Mrs. Carey said. I realized that when he was with us. I do hope he will get well and marry Mary Page."

"Marry Mary Page! What put that idea in your head?"

"Why, he goes to see her so constantly.'

Nonsense, my dear. Gossip again.' "Mrs. Page alludes to him very often. This afternoon he was there to mark out a tennis court."

"Yes; I saw him, and half a dozen of the young people helping him. Mrs. Page never conveys a perfectly accurate impression. She may not intend to exaggerate, and, perhaps, she fondly believes that Mary has attracted Mr. Cortis. Perhaps she has. Still, I should be very guarded about mentioning such a report. It would be disagreeable for everybody, and if it reaches Cortis it will end his visits at Mrs. Page's, and deprive him of a relaxation that is doing him good."

"Well, I shall be very careful. I suppose Mr. Cortis does not consider himself an eligible man just now, and then Mary Page is very girlish."

"Now you have reached the explanation of the intimacy. Suppose we go in and see Cortis.'

"Yes, indeed." They found all the doors open and the lamps burning; but no one appeared in answer to Mr. Carey's tap ping.

"We can wait a few minutes; he may be upstairs," said Mrs. Carey. So they went into the sitting-room. This apartment always reminded Mrs. Carey of its owner's condition; neither books, pictures, nor writing materials were visible. The table held odd collections suggestive of fishing excursions and gardening. A saucer of water, in which

lay some dandelions nearly closed, was prominent, and several pipes and a tobacco pouch, some scattered matches, and a small pile of ashes proved that the occupant found some relief in smoking.

He hasn't come home yet," said Mr. Carey. "You say he was to dine with Mrs. Page. Mrs. Summers has left the lamps lighted for him. We will not wait."

"I don't wonder that he enjoys going to Mrs. Page's," said Mrs. Carey, with a comprehensive glance. "The dullness here must be intolerable."

"I don't think that Cortis takes that view of it. He has certain rules to follow, and he keeps temptation in the way of reading matter out of reach."

"He certainly has a chance to think." On the way out Mrs. Carey admired the flower-beds and the arrangement of the plants, and as the porch was inclosed by climbing rose-trees, they sat down on a rustic bench to watch the shadows that lay on the floor. While thus absorbed they were attracted by the sound of light steps, and perceived a woman's figure approaching.

"Why, it is Mrs. Aston!" said Mrs. Carey. "Can anything have happened?"

The rector rose and went toward the gate, and the figure in the road turned suddenly and rapidly retreated.

"Are you sure that was Mrs. Aston?" "I think so. She must have seen you and thought it was Mr. Cortis."

"Why should that frighten her? It is still early; I suppose she wants to stay in the open air. Suppose we go and

reassure her."

Mrs. Aston was sauntering about her garden, and she laughed at Mr. Carey's explanation of his unexpected appearance on Mr. Cortis's lawn and the momentary fright that she experienced. It was so balmy under the trees that they remained for some time out of doors, and Mrs. Carey joined Mrs. Bemerton in the sitting-room.

Mrs. Bemerton was politely curious in regard to the Pages, although she had often heard all there was to tell about them. She had strolled all the way home with Mrs. Page that afternoon, and had witnessed a portion of