Well, she had given him up; goaded by those words, following his obvious shrinking from her, she had left him a message which, if he loved her still, would sting him to the quick, and, in any case, had sufficed to sever them for ever. It was done now. She must not brood; that would do no good, it would only unfit her for her daily work. Perhaps in time the feelings which racked her heart when she thought of these things would grow blunt, the hand of Time would still the pain, and her Heavenly Father would send angels down to whisper to her words of peace and consolation. *CHAPTER IX.* *ALICE SINCLAIR’S POT-BOILERS.* Yet gold is not all that doth golden seeme. SPENSER. "Good-morning! Some one has told me that you have a garret to let in this house." The speaker, a merry girl a little over twenty, stood in Mrs. Austin’s doorway, smiling up at her, one hot day in summer. "A garret, miss. Who for?" asked Mrs. Austin, smiling back at her visitor. "Well, for me," answered the girl, quite gaily. "For you, miss?" exclaimed Mrs. Austin, in surprise. "Why, you don’t look like one who would sleep in a garret!" "Well, no. I don’t think I should like to sleep in a garret, unless it were a very pretty one. But I want to rent one, if I can find one with a good skylight. I want it for artistic work." "Oh, indeed, miss! Are you an artist?" There was respect, and even awe, in Mrs. Austin’s tone. She had not imagined that such a merry-looking lady could be one of the elect. "Well, yes, in a way I am; and I want to do something--paint some pictures, you know--in a quiet, respectable garret, where I shall not be interrupted. Is it true that you have one to let?" "Yes, miss. I have one to let. I had an artist son once who used to use it. He’s gone"--Mrs. Austin wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron--"and since then," she continued, "I let my young lady lodger have the use of it for her painting. Not that she uses it now,--poor dear!--still, it’s supposed to be hers." "If she does not use it, would she object to my having it?" "I don’t know, miss. I’ll just run over to Boothby & Barton’s shop, in the next street, and ask her. It is there she works." "Tell her I shall be immensely obliged if she will give up the garret to me--that is, if it suits me--as I particularly want to have a garret with a good skylight, and I should like you to be my landlady." The young lady smiled again in Mrs. Austin’s face.