. . . Almighty and most merciful Father; we have erred and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep.
The old and worthy man with his tremulous voice, the sweet matron with her grave beauty just matured to that St. Martin's Summer of Youth which is the youth of perfect wifehood, said the sacred words together. His cultured and appealing voice, her warm contralto echoed under the high roof in ebb and flow and antiphon of sound.
It was the twenty-sixth day of the month. . . .
"Trouble and heaviness have laid hold upon me:
Yet is my delight in thy commandments."
"The righteousness of thy testimonies is everlasting: O
grant me understanding and I shall live."
The morning was lighter than ever when Mary came out of Church, and its smile was reflected on her face.
In the village street an old labourer leading a team of horses, touched his cap and grinned a welcome while his wistful eyes plainly said, "God bless you, Ma'am," as Mary went by.
A merry "ting-tang clank" came from the blacksmith's shop, ringing out brightly in the bright air, and as she drew near the gate of the Old House, whom should she see but the postman!