"That is well. But my husband says it will be long before we get a man like one whom I was just speaking of--Mr. Uniacke--Sir Edwin he is now. He has succeeded to the baronetcy. Of course you have heard of this?" "I have," briefly answered Dr. Grey. And the dean's wife, who had all the love of talking which the dean had not, mingled with a little nettled sense of balked curiosity, then turned to Mrs. Grey. "You must have heard of that young man, and the scandal about him; it was only a year ago that he was rusticated. Such a pity! He was a most clever fellow--good at every thing. And quite a genius for music. To hear him sing and play was delightful! And yet he was such a scamp--a downright villain." "My dear Mrs. Brereton," said Dr. Grey, "nobody is quite a villain at twenty. And if he were, don't you think that the less we talk about villains the better?" So the conversation dropped--dropped as things do drop every day, under the smooth surface of society, which handles so lightly edged tools, and treads so gaily upon bomb-shells, with the fuses just taken out in time. "I am very tired," said Mrs. Grey, while Dr. Grey was seeing the last of the visitors to their carriage. "I think I will go at once to my own room". "Do so," replied Aunt Maria. "Indeed, it has been a very fatiguing day for you, and for us all. Go, and I will tell Arnold you are dressing. It only wants half an hour to dinner." "I will be ready." And so she was. But for twenty of the thirty minutes she had lain motionless on her bed, almost like a dead figure, as passive and as white. Then she rose, dressed herself, and went down to the formal meal, and to the somber, safe routine of her present existence, as it would flow on--and she prayed with all her heart it might--until she died. Chapter 5. _"He stands a-sudden at the door, And no one hears his soundless tread, And no one sees his veiled head, Or silent hand, put forth so sure,_ _"To grasp and snatch from mortal sight; Or else benignly turn away, And let us live our little day, And tremble back into the light:_ _"But though thus awful to our eyes, He is an angel in disguise."_ Every human being, and certainly every woman, has, among the various ideals of happiness, good to make, if never to enjoy, one special ideal---that great necessity of every tender heart---Home.