"My dear, are you not afraid of catching cold?" said the hesitating voice of Miss Grey. "Besides, will not the servants think it rather odd, your sitting here on the staircase? Bless me, my dear, were you crying?" "No," answered Christian, energetically, "no!" and then belied her truthfulness by bursting immediately into tears. Miss Grey was melted at once. "There, now, my dear, take my smelling-bottle; you will be better soon; it is only a little over-excitement. But, indeed, you need not mind; our friends--that is, Henrietta's--for you know I seldom visit--are all very nice people, and they will pay every respect to my brother's wife. Do not be frightened at them." "I was not frightened," replied Mrs. Grey, more inclined to smile than to be offended at this earnest condolence. "What troubled me was quite another thing." "Henrietta. perhaps?" with an uneasy glance up the staircase. "But my dear, you must not mind Henrietta; she means well. You don't know how busy she has been all the morning, arranging every thing. 'For,' says she to me, 'since your brother has married again, we must make the best of it, and introduce his wife into society, and be very kind to her.' And I am sure I hope we are," "Thank you," said Christian, somewhat haughtily, till touched by the mild deprecation of that foolish, gentle face, so gentle as half to atone for its foolishness. "You see, my dear, your marriage was much worse to her than to me, because Mrs. Grey was her own sister, while Arnold is my brother. And all I want in the wide world is to see my brother happy. I hope it isn't wrong of me, but I don't think quite as dear Henrietta does. I always felt that dear Arnold might marry any body he pleased, and I should be sure to love her if only she made him happy. But, hush! I hear somebody coming." And the poor little lady composed herself into some pretense of indifference when Christian rose from the windowsill, and stood like a queen--or rather like what she tried to say to herself, so as to keep up her matronly dignity, whenever passionate, girlish grief or anger threatened to break it down, "like Dr. Grey's wife." Miss Gascoigne stopped benignly, much to Christian's surprise, for she did not guess what a wonderful influence clothes have in calming down ill tempers. And Miss Gascoigne was beautifully dressed--quite perfect from top to toe; and she was such a handsome woman still, that it was quite a pleasure to look at her, as she very well knew. She had come direct from her mirror, and was complacent accordingly. Also, she felt that domestic decorum must be preserved on the "at home" day. "That is a very pretty dress you have on; I suppose Dr. Grey bought it in London?" "Yes." "Did he choose it likewise?" "I believe so." "My sister always chose her own dresses; but then she paid for them too. She had a little income of her own, which is a very good thing for a wife to have." "A very good thing."