CHAPTER XXXV.
VIA DOLOROSA Bleed on beneath the rod, Weep on until thou see; Turn fear and hope to love of God, Who loveth thee.
Turn all to love, poor soul; Be love thy starting-point, thy goal, Be love thy watch and ward; And thy reward.
-- CHRISTINA ROSSETTI.
It was the Feast of the Epiphany, and morning service was just over in Rotherwood church, when Elizabeth Templeton came out of the porch and walked slowly towards the gate, as though she expected some one to overtake her.
At the sound of short, hurrying footsteps behind her she turned round and welcomed the new-comer with a faint smile, and they went on together.

The Rev.Rupert Carlyon had been taking the service at his son's request, and now, as he walked beside Elizabeth and tried vainly to adapt his brisk, rapid step to hers, he looked more than ever like a gray-haired, shabby David Carlyon.

The resemblance between father and son had always been striking, and even the mannerisms and tricks of speech were absurdly similar.

"A dry, chippy little man," Cedric had once called him, and now, in his worn Inverness cape and slouched clerical hat, he seemed smaller and more shrunken than ever.
It was a lovely winter's day, and the hoar-frost on the hedges glittered in the sunshine; the air was crisp and buoyant in spite of the cold; but Elizabeth, who so revelled in the beauty of Nature, and thought every season good and perfect, now only glanced round her with the indifferent air of one whose thoughts were elsewhere.
"You are going to the vicarage ?" she remarked at last; "I must not take you out of your way." "Oh, I will walk as far as the White Cottage with you," returned Mr.
Carlyon briskly.

"You have promised to spend my last day with my boy and me, so I shall be sure to turn up at tea.