quite strong and insistent, of past joys and sorrows.
Those bells were interwoven with the whole of her
wifehood, motherhood, and widowhood; they had rung
for her wedding, they had mustered the tiny congregation
who had been present at Rose's christening;
the great bell had tolled the day her husband had
died, and again to bid the kindly folk of Witanbury to
his simple funeral. Some day, perhaps, the bells
would ring a joyful peal in honour of Rose's wedding.

As she walked up the path which leads from the
road encircling the Close to the cathedral, she tried
to compose and attune her mind to solemn, peaceful
thoughts.

There was a small congregation, perhaps thirty in
all, gathered together in the choir, but the atmosphere
of that tiny gathering of people was slightly
electric and charged with emotion. The wife of the
Dean, a short, bustling lady, who had never been so
popular in Witanbury and its neighbourhood as was
her husband, came forward and beckoned to Mrs. Otway.
"If no one else comes in," she whispered, "I
think we might all come up a little nearer. The Dean
is going to say a few words about the war."

And though a few more people did come in during
the five minutes that followed, the whole of the little
congregation finally collected in the stalls nearest the
altar. And it was not from the ornate white stone
pulpit, but from the steps of the altar, that the Dean,
after the short service was over, delivered his address.

For what seemed a long time -- it was really only a
very few moments -- Dr. Haworth stood there, looking
thoughtfully at this little gathering of his fellow-countrymen
and countrywomen. Then he began speak-

[[24]]

p023 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p024w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p025

v?