Bride stood where he had left her, in the middle of that anteroom where their parting had been exchanged. Her face was slightly flushed; there was a strange gleam of vivid light in her eyes; the sweet mouth was tremulous with emotions strongly stirred. The Duke, who had witnessed the parting between them, looked at her with a veiled inquiry in his eyes. Bride, coming back to everyday life, saw that look and answered it. “It is not what you think, papa,” she said very softly, “yet I think Eustace and I belong to one another now. I do not know how else to say it. It seems as though there was something linking us together stronger than ourselves.” A slight smile lighted the old man’s face. “I am glad to hear that, my child,” he said gently. “I am far better pleased with Eustace this time than I was before. He has greatly grown in wisdom and moderation--greatly improved. I believe he will turn out one of those men whom the world needs. He is after all a Marchmont, and the Marchmonts have generally the gift of government in some form or another. A young and ardent temperament may be led astray at the outset; but the experience of life gives ballast; and there seem to have been many influences at work upon Eustace, moderating his impetuosity, and showing him the reverse side of the shield.” “I think he is learning a great deal,” answered Bride softly; “I am glad you feel the same about him.” She could not settle to her ordinary avocations that day. There was a subtle sense of exhilaration and happiness in her pulses which made active exercise needful to her. She had her pony saddled, and started to ride along the cliffs to St. Erme. She wanted to be alone for awhile to think and muse upon the sudden sense of new happiness that had come into her life. She had visits to pay at St. Erme’s which had been waiting for a day of leisure. Eustace had filled much of her time of late, but now she must learn to do without him. She rode quietly onward, with the sunshine about her, and the soft breeze fanning her cheek and lighting her eyes. There came over her, almost for the first time in her life, a sense of the beauty and joyousness of it, even in this fallen world of sorrow and sin. Before she had thought, almost exclusively at such times as these, when alone with nature and at peace with herself and all the world, of the brightness and glory of the Kingdom. Her heart had had little here to feed itself upon, and she had dwelt in the thought of the glory which shall be revealed. But to-day she felt as though she was experiencing a strange foretaste of that glory and happiness in this inexpressible sense of sweetness and love. An atmosphere of joy seemed to enwrap and envelop her. She scarcely understood herself or her heart; but she was happy with a happiness that was almost startling, and in her head some words seemed to set themselves to the joyous hymn that nature was singing all the while.