"I know," said Carolina, gently. "I have heard." "Who told you? Some stranger?" "No, Moultrie told me." "Ah, then you have heard the truth! It is a terrible grief to us, Carolina. Think of the child! I do not know who my own grandson is descended from!" "But you will know," said Carolina, earnestly. "And soon. I--we have a right to expect God’s harmony in our lives." Mrs. La Grange looked at her curiously, but only said, with a sigh: "I am sure I hope you may be right." It was arranged that Carolina was to meet Mrs. La Grange at Flower’s the next afternoon at three o’clock. "Can’t you go in the morning?" asked Mrs. La Grange. "I have an appointment with the architect from Charleston and the builders at Guildford at ten. We wouldn’t get through in time, I am afraid, for there will be so much to discuss." "Won’t you be too tired?" "I never get tired. There is rest in action for me." Mrs. La Grange shook her head, but not in disapproval. "I hope I am going to like it. If I like all of it as well as I do the sample bits you have fed me with, I think, as you say, you may find that I have been a Scientist all my life without knowing it." Mrs. La Grange looked into the girl’s pure, beautiful face scrutinizingly, as if to learn her secret of happiness, and, as she did so, she was surprised to see it suffused by a blush which rose in delicate waves to her hair. Looking about in surprise for a cause, Mrs. La Grange saw her son Moultrie approaching. Could Carolina have recognized his step without seeing him, and was that blush for Moultrie? The question could not be answered at once, nor did she see them together the next day, for Carolina was late in keeping her appointment, and, by the time she arrived, the awful truth was known. Mrs. La Grange had been so overcome that Moultrie was obliged to take her home. The moment Carolina rode up to the house, she knew that something had happened. The house, a mere cabin, was ominously quiet, and no one came to meet her. She dismounted hurriedly, fastened Scintilla to the fence, and ran up the steps. No one answered her knock. She pushed open the door and entered. At first she saw no one, but presently she heard heavy breathing, and, crouching on the floor, in the darkest corner of the room, she saw Flower, holding the still form of her baby in her arms. Her posture and the glare in her eyes were tigerish. With a low cry, Carolina sprang to her side. "Oh, Flower, darling! What is the matter with your baby?" "You may take him," said Flower, dully. "You care! You cared yesterday. I can tell. She only cares because Arthur is a La Grange. You will care just because he a helpless little blind baby. Oh! oh!" "Not blind, Flower! Don’t say it. Don’t think it. Your baby sees." "No, Cousin Carol. You are good and kind, but Mrs. La Grange made me see for myself. We took a candle and held it so close to his eyes we nearly burned his little face--"