Heathcote had written to Mr. Chetwode. "My sister," he wrote, "I am most thankful to say, is almost convalescent, and in a little while I shall venture to tell her of an important step in life that I contemplate taking. I shall then fly back on the wings of impatience to London, and need scarcely say that my first visit will be to your house." Mr. Chetwode read aloud Heathcote's letter at the breakfast-table, but made no comment on the sentence in question. Janet placed her own construction on it; she thought that Heathcote, unlike men in general, was a much more ardent lover when absent than when present, because he did justice to the qualities of her mind, but disliked her personal appearance. Moore says of the heroine of one of his sweet melodies-- "She looked in the glass, which a woman ne'er misses, Nor ever wants time for a sly glance or two." But Janet "looked in the glass" not with any pleasurable sensations; she came to the conclusion that she grew plainer every day, and she anticipated Heathcote's return with as much fear as hope. One morning Janet was sitting alone in the drawing-room, and felt remarkably nervous and depressed. "Are there such things as presentiments of evil?" she thought; but her previous anticipations were changed into joyous realities when Heathcote was announced. She started up to greet him, but appearing not to notice her outstretched hand, he threw himself into a chair: she thought him very much out of spirits; an indifferent person would have thought him very much out of temper. "Your sister, I trust, is not worse," said Janet, timidly. "She is almost well again," he replied impatiently; "but, had I been aware of what has just been told me, I do not think I should have troubled myself to visit London." "What has been told you?" gasped the agitated Janet; "you alarm me by your vehemence." "I have been told," he said, directing a searching glance at her, "that I have a favored rival, who not only has taken advantage of my absence from London to press his suit, but has succeeded in obtaining a propitious answer to it." How did Janet's heart beat with rapture! "Heathcote's love for her could not now be doubted; he had love enough to be jealous; his anxious misgivings should immediately be removed; he should be told that her love was for him alone." "You have been deceived, indeed you have been deceived," she exclaimed; "no rival is in the case; you cannot love with greater sincerity and truth than you are loved in return." "Dear Miss Penson," cried Heathcote, taking her hand, "how can I thank you sufficiently for having so promptly relieved my mind from its groundless suspicions? My sister is prepared to welcome and to value the object of my choice. I begin to fancy myself almost too happy; but I do not see Philippa, and am quite impatient for an interview."