But marriage has no end of unforeseen mysteries for people who really love each other, and some of these obtruded themselves unexpectedly upon Philip and Grace, and gave the young people some serious moments, hours, and days. At first these disturbers were repelled temporarily by gales of kisses and caresses, but afterwards Grace's warm brown eyes would look deeper than they habitually were, and Philip would feel as if he had lost the power of speech. It was merely that each wished to be more and do more for the sake of the other. Philip knew that Grace was the sweetest, handsomest, cleverest, noblest woman in the world, and that the world at large had the right to know it. Grace thought Philip competent to illumine any social circle, and to become a leader among men; but how was the world to know of it while he and she were compelled to remain buried alive in a city in which no one knew his next-door neighbor except by sight? In her native village deserving young men frequently became partners of their employers, but Philip assured her that in New York no such recognition could be expected. The best he could hope for was to retain his position, be slowly promoted, and some day rank with the highest clerks. One evening Philip, who ordinarily reached home later than his wife, stood in the door of the apartment when Grace appeared. He quieted the young woman with a rapturous smile, and said, with much lover-like punctuation:-- "All of our troubles are ended, dear girl. We can live as we wish, and buy everything we wish. To-night--at once, if you like--we can afford to tell the whole world that we are no longer a mere clerk and a saleswoman." Grace at once looked more radiant than her husband had ever seen her; she exclaimed:-- "Oh, Phil! Tell me all about it! Quick!" "I will, my dear, if you'll loosen your arms--or one of them--for a moment, so that I can get my hand into my pocket. I've inherited old Uncle Jethro's property. I don't know how much it amounts to, but he was a well-to-do country merchant, and here's a single check, on account, for a thousand dollars." "Phil!" exclaimed Grace, placing her hands on her husband's face and pushing it gently backward, while her cheeks glowed, and her lips parted, and her eyes seemed to melt. "That makes me far happier than I was," said Phil, "though I didn't suppose that could be possible. Your face is outdoing itself. I didn't suppose money could make so great a difference in it." "'Tisn't the money," Grace replied slowly, "and yet, I suppose it is. But we won't reason about it now. We can do what we most wish--tell the world that we're married; for that, I'd gladly have become a beggar. But do tell me all about it." Philip placed his wife in an easy chair, took a letter from his pocket, and said:-- "I suppose this will explain all more quickly than I could tell it. 'Tis a lawyer's letter. Listen:-- "'PHILIP SOMERTON, ESQ.,--