But in Miss Gascoigne's acuter and more worldly nature the surprise soon wore off, leaving a sharp consciousness of the beauty, grace and dignity--formidable weapons in the hands of any woman, and especially of one so young as the master's wife. Not that her youth was now very noticeable; to any one who had known Christian before her marriage, she would have appeared greatly altered, as if some strange mental convulsion had passed over her--passed, and been subdued. In two weeks she had grown ten years older--was, a matron, not a girl. Yet still she was herself. We often come to learn that change--which includes growth--is one of the most blessed laws in existence; but it is only weak natures who, in changing, lose their identity. If Dr. Grey saw, what any one who loved Christian could not fail to have seen, this remarkable change in her, he also saw deep enough into her nature neither to dread it nor deplore it. A few civil speeches having been interchanged about the weather, their journey, and so forth, the master, suddenly looking round him, inquired. "Maria, where are the children?" "I sent them to bed," said Miss Gascoigne, with dignity. "It was impossible they could be kept up to this late hour. My poor sister would never allow it." The color flashed violently over Dr. Grey's face. With the quick, resolute movement of a master in his own house, he crossed the room and rang the bell. "Barker, inquire of nurse if the children are in bed. If not, say I wish them sent down to me; otherwise I will come up to them immediately." The answer to this message was awaited in most awkward silence. Even Miss Gascoigne seemed to feel that she had gone a bit too far, and busied herself over the tea equipage; while Miss Grey, after one or two deprecating looks at dear Arnold, began knitting nervously at her eternal socks---the only aunt-like duty which, in her meek laziness, she attempted to fulfill toward the children. For Christian, she sat by the fire, where her husband had placed her, absently taking in the externalities--warm, somber, luxurious--which, in all human probability, was now her home for life. For life! Did that overpowering sense of the inevitable--so maddening to some, so quieting to others--cause all small things to sink to their natural smallness, and all painful things to touch her less painfully than otherwise they would have been felt? It might have been. Barker returned with the information that all the children were fast asleep, but nurse said, "Of course Dr. Grey could come up if he pleased." "Let me go too," begged Christian. "Little Oliver will look so pretty in his bed." Dr. Grey smiled. It was a rare thing to be a whole fortnight away from his children, and all the father's heart was in his loving eyes. "Come away, then," he said, all his cheerful looks returning. "Aunts, you will give us our tea when we return."