And yet it had perhaps been well that those prudent ideas had been allowed to obtain weight. Mr. Halliburton took up his abode with the Taits; and, the more they saw of him, the more they liked him. In which liking Jane must be included.

It was a possible shadow of the future, the effects the step would bring forth, which had whispered determent to Mr. Tait: a very brief shadow, which had crossed his mind imperfectly, and flitted away again. Where two young and attractive beings are thrown into daily companionship, the result too frequently is that a mutual regard arises, stronger than any other regard can ever be in this world. This result arrived here.

A twelvemonth passed over from the time of Mr. Halliburton's entrance—how swiftly for him and for Jane Tait they alone could tell. Not a word had been spoken to her by Mr. Halliburton that he might not have spoken to her mother or her sister Margaret; not a look on Jane's part had been given by which he could infer that he was more to her than the rest of the world. And yet both were inwardly conscious of the feelings of the other; and when the twelvemonth had gone by it had seemed to them but a span, for the love they bore each other.

One evening in December Jane stood in the dining-room waiting to make tea just as she had so waited that former evening. For any outward signs, you might have thought that not a single hour had elapsed since their first introduction—that it was the same evening as of old. It was sloppy outside, it was bright within. The candles stood on the table unlighted, the fire blazed, the tea-tray was placed, and only Jane was there. Mrs. Tait was upstairs with one of her frequent sick-headaches, Margaret was with her, and the others had not come in.

Jane stood in a reverie—her elbow resting on the mantel-piece, and the blaze from the fire flickering on her gentle face. She was fond of these few minutes of idleness on a winter's evening, between the twilight hour and lighting the candles.

The clock in the kitchen struck five. It did not arouse her: she heard it in a mechanical sort of manner, without taking note of it. Scarcely had the sound of the last stroke died away when there was a knock at the front door.

That aroused her—for she knew it. She knew the footsteps that came in when it was answered, and a rich damask arose to her cheeks, and the pulses of her heart went on a little quicker than they had been going before.

She took her elbow from the mantel-piece, and sat down quietly on a chair. No need to look who entered. Some one, taller by far than any in that house, came up to the fire, and bent to warm his hands over the blaze.

"It is a cold night, Jane. We shall have a severe frost."

"Yes," she answered; "the water in the barrel is already freezing over."

"How is your mamma now?"

"Better, thank you. Margaret has gone up to help her to dress. She is coming down to tea."

Mr. Halliburton remained silent a minute, and then turned to Jane, his face glowing with satisfaction. "I have had a piece of preferment offered me to-day."

"Have you?" she eagerly said. "What is it?"

"Dr. Percy proposes that, from January, I shall take the Greek classes as well as the mathematics, and he doubles my salary. Of course I shall have to give closer attendance, but I can readily do that. My time is not fully employed."

"I am very glad," said Jane.

"So am I," he answered. "Taking all my sources of income together, I shall now be earning two hundred and eighty-three pounds a year."

Jane laughed. "Have you been reckoning it up?"

"Ay; I had a motive in doing so."

His tone was peculiar, and it caused her to look at him, but her eyelids drooped under his gaze. He drew nearer, and laid his hand gently on her shoulder, bending down before her to speak.

"Jane, you have not mistaken me. I feel that you have read what has been in my heart, what have been my intentions, as surely as though I had spoken. It is not a great income, but it is sufficient, if you can think it so. May I speak to Mr. Tait?"

What Jane would have contrived to answer she never knew, but at that moment her mother's step was heard approaching. All she did was to glance shyly up at Mr. Halliburton, and he bent his head lower and kissed her. Then he walked rapidly to the door and opened it for Mrs. Tait—a pale, refined, delicate-looking lady, wrapped in a shawl. These violent headaches, from which she so frequently suffered, did not affect her permanent health, but on the days she suffered she would be utterly prostrated. Mr. Halliburton gave her his arm, and led her to a seat by the fire, his voice low and tender, his manner sympathizing. "I am already better," she said to him, "and shall be much better after tea. Sometimes I am tempted to envy those who do not know what a sick-headache is."

"They may know other maladies as painful, dear Mrs. Tait."

"Ay, indeed. None of us can expect to be free from pain of one sort or another in this world."

"Shall I make the tea, mamma?" asked Jane.

"Yes, dear; I shall be glad of it, and your papa is sure to be in soon. There he is!" she added, as the latch-key was heard in the door. "The boys are late this evening."

The rector came in, and, ere the evening was over, the news was broken to him by Mr. Halliburton. He wanted Jane.

It was the imperfect, uncertain shadow of twelve months ago become substance. It had been a shadow of the future only, you understand—not a shadow of evil. To Mr. Halliburton, personally, the rector had no objection—he had learned to love, esteem, and respect him—but it is a serious thing to give away a child.

"The income is very small to marry upon," he observed. "It is also uncertain."

"Not uncertain, sir, so long as I am blessed with health and strength. And I have no reason to fear that these will fail."

"I thought you were bent on taking Orders."

Mr. Halliburton's cheek slightly flushed. "It is a prospect I have fondly cherished," he said; "but its difficulties alarm me. The cost of the University is great; and were I to wait until I had saved sufficient money to go to college, I should be obliged, in a great degree, to give up my present means of living. Who would employ a tutor who must frequently be away for weeks? I should lose my connection, and perhaps never regain it. A good teaching connection is more easily lost than won."

"True," observed Mr. Tait.

"Once in Orders, I might remain for years a poor curate. I should most likely do so. I have neither interest nor influence. Sir, in that case Jane and I might be obliged to wait for years: perhaps go down to our graves waiting."

The Rev. Francis Tait threw back his thoughts. How he had waited; how he was not able to marry until years were advancing upon him; how in four years now he should have attained threescore years and ten—the term allotted to the life of man—whilst his children were still growing up around him! No! never, never would he counsel another to wait as he had been obliged to wait.

"I have not yet given up hope of eventually entering the Church," continued Mr. Halliburton; "though it must be accomplished, if at all, slowly and patiently. I think I may be able to keep one term, or perhaps two terms yearly, without damage to my teaching. I shall try to do so; try to find the necessary means and time. My marriage will make no difference to that, sir."

Many might have suggested to Edgar Halliburton that he might keep his terms first and marry afterwards. Mr. Tait did not: possibly the idea did not occur to him. If it occurred to Edgar Halliburton himself, he drove it from him. It would have delayed his marriage to an indefinite number of years; and he loved Jane too well to do that willingly. "I shall still get much better preferment in teaching than that which I now hold," he urged aloud to the rector. "It is not so very small to begin upon, sir, and Jane is willing to risk it."

"I will not part you and Jane," said Mr. Tait, warmly. "If you have made up your minds to share life and its cares together, you shall do so. Still, I cannot say that I think your prospects golden."

"Prospects that appear to have no gold at all in them sometimes turn out very brightly, sir."

"I can give Jane nothing, you know."

"I have never cast a thought to it, sir; have never imagined she would have a shilling," replied Mr. Halliburton, his face flushing with eagerness. "It is Jane herself I want; not money."

"Beyond a twenty-pound note which I may give her to put into her purse on her wedding morning, that she may not leave my house absolutely penniless, she will have nothing," cried the rector, in his straightforward manner. "Far from saving, I and her mother have been hardly able to make both ends meet at the end of the year. I might have saved a few pounds yearly, had I chosen to do so; but you know what this parish is; and the reflection has always been upon me: how would my Master look upon my putting by small sums of money, when many of those over whom I am placed were literally starving for bread? I have given what I could; but I have not saved for my children."

"You have done well, sir."

Mr. Tait sought his daughter. "Jane," he began—"Nay, child, do not tremble so! There is no need for trembling, or for tears, either: you have done nothing to displease me. Jane, I like Edgar Halliburton; I like him much. There is no one to whom I would rather give you. But I do not like his prospects. Teaching is very precarious."

Jane raised her timid eyes. "Precarious for him, papa? For one learned and clever as he!"

"It is badly paid. See how he toils—and he will have to toil more when the new year comes in—and only to earn two or three hundred a year!—in round numbers."

Tears gathered in Jane's eyes. Toil as he did, badly paid as he might be, she would rather have him than any other in the world, though that other might have revelled in thousands. The rector read somewhat of this in her downcast face.

"My dear, the consideration lies with you. If you choose to venture upon it, you shall have my consent, and I know you will have your mother's, for she thinks Edgar Halliburton has not his equal in the world. But it may bring you many troubles."

"Papa, I am not afraid. If troubles come, they—you—told us only last night——"

"What, child?"

"That troubles, regarded rightly, only lead us nearer to God," whispered Jane, simply and timidly.

"Right, child. And trouble must come before that great truth can be realized. Consider the question well, Jane—whether it may not be better to wait—and give your answer to-morrow. I shall tell Mr. Halliburton not to ask for it to-night. As you decide, so shall it be."

Need you be told what Jane's decision was? Two hundred and eighty-three pounds a year seems a large sum to an inexperienced girl; quite sufficient to purchase everything that might be wanted for a fireside.

And so she became Jane Halliburton.