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"And 'in Christ shall all be made alive!" said the parson, wiping his eyes, and then beginning to pat Elvin's hand with both his own. "Now, what shall we do? What shall we do? Why not come home with me, and stay over night? My dear wife will be glad to see you. And the morning will bring counsel." Elvin had regained a fine freedom of carriage, and a decision of tone long lost to him.

Ain't it well for me I wa'n't born a hunderd year ago? Shouldn't I ha' sizzled well? An' now, all there is to burn me is God A'mighty's sunshine!" Elvin laughed lightly. "I guess I don't need any fortune," he said. "Mine looks pretty fair now. I don't feel as if anybody'd better meddle with it." But he had not withdrawn his arm, and his gaze still dwelt on hers.

Verily "Time tries All," and an impartial and notable summary of Lord Lytton's services to his country, written by the Reverend W. Elvin, is engraven on the monument to his memory in the crypt of St. Paul's Cathedral, which was designed and partially carried out by the sculptor, Mr. Gilbert.

A light wagon, driven rapidly round the corner, drew up at the gate. Elvin Drew jumped down, and helped out his companion, a short, rather thickset girl, with smooth, dark hair, honest eyes, and a sensitive mouth. She came quickly up the path, after an embarrassed word of thanks to the young man. "He took me in," she began, almost apologetically to Rosa, who surveyed her with some haughtiness.

"No, don't you come now. He ain't ready. You go away, an' let him set an' think it out." And the parson, why he knew not, turned about, and went humbly back to his preaching in the hall. The afternoon wore on, and it began to seem as if Elvin would never break from his trance, and never speak. Finally, after watching him a moment with her keen eyes, Dilly touched him lightly on the arm.

But I keep it on hand for them that likes it. Elvin, here! You take this good big apple. It's man's size more 'n woman's, I guess." Elvin pushed back his chair. "I ain't goin' to put a mouthful of victuals to my lips till I make up my mind whether I can speak or not," he said, loudly. "All right," answered Dilly, placidly. "Bless ye! the teapot'll be goin' all night, if ye say so."

"I was comin' up here to see Dilly, an' he offered me a ride." Rosa's color and spirits had returned, at the sight of her tangible ally at the gate. "Well, I guess I must be going," she said, airily. "Elvin won't want to wait. Good-by, Dilly! I'll tell father. Good-by, Molly Drew!" But Dilly followed her down to the road, where Elvin stood waiting with the reins in his hands.

"Look here, you! don't ye darken my doors ag'in, an' don't ye dast to open your head to one o' my folks! We're done with ye! Do you hear? We're done with ye! Rosy'll ride home with me to-night, an' she'll ride with you no more!" Elvin said nothing, though his brow contracted suddenly at Rosa's name.

When she entered the house again, Elvin still sat there, staring stolidly into the dusk. The parson was praying, and Molly, by the window, was holding the sill tightly clasped by both hands, as if threatening herself into calm. When the parson rose, he turned to Elvin, less like the pastor than the familiar friend. One forgot his gray hairs in the loving simplicity of his tone.

And when the prayer was done, he put his hand on the young man's shoulder, and said, with a yearning persuasiveness, "Tell it now, my brother! Jesus is here." Elvin raised his head, with a sudden fierce gesture toward Dilly. "She knows," he said. "She can see the past. She'll tell you what I've done." "I 'ain't got nothin' to tell, dear," answered Dilly, peacefully.