fond of her grievances too. She was asked to look at them with new eyes, to think of them no more as outrages, as stones of stumbling and rocks of offence. She was asked to consider her grievances as opportunities. That was the plain truth about it, and it involved so much recantation, such a turning upside down of old notions, such a fall for pride. It was very hard to swallow. Yet unless it were swallowed, where was hope? And if it were swallowed, what did it mean? An experiment--only another difficult experiment. For people are not changed readily, and cannot be changed altogether. Difficulties would remain--would remain always; the vain ideal which had once governed all her acts and thoughts would never be realised. She must not be under any delusion as to that. And now, in her heart, she was afraid of delusion coming again; and again disillusion must follow. She turned to find Grantley beside her, and he gave her a telegram addressed to her. She opened it with a word of thanks. "From John Fanshaw!" she exclaimed eagerly. "He's coming down here to-night!" "Well, you told him to wire whenever he found he could get down, didn't you?" "Yes, of course. But--but what does it mean?" He smiled at her. "I'm not surprised. Christine had a letter from him this morning. I saw the handwriting. I'm taking a very sympathetic interest in Christine, so I look at the handwriting on her letters. And she's been in a state of suppressed excitement all the morning. I've noticed that--with a sympathetic interest, Sibylla." "I think I ought to go and see her." "Not just yet, please. Oh yes, I hope it'll be a good day for her! And it'll be a great day for your poor old Mumples, won't it? I hope Mr. Mumple will behave nicely." "Oh, so do I with my whole heart!" cried Sibylla. "I'm taking a very sympathetic interest in the Mumples also, Sibylla. Likewise in Dora and her young man, and Jeremy and his young woman. Oh, and in the Raymores and Charley! Anybody else?" Sibylla looked at him reprovingly, but a smile would tremble about the corners of her mouth. "You see, I've been thinking over what you said the other day," Grantley went on with placid gravity, "and I've made up my mind to come and tell you whenever I do a decent thing or have an honest emotion. I shan't like saying it at all, but you'll like hearing it awfully." "Some people would be serious about it, considering--well, considering everything," Sibylla remarked, turning her face away. "Yes, but then they wouldn't see you smile--and you've an adorable smile; and they wouldn't see the flash in your eyes--and you've such wonderful eyes, Sibylla." He delivered these statements with a happy simplicity. "You're not imposing on me," she said. "I know you mean it." Her voice trembled just a little. "And perhaps that's the best way to tell me."