She had doubted his love for her until that day when Mattie came to draw her into the old vortex, and then her faith in him came back, and life took fairer colours--she knew not wherefore, save that the reflex of that day's brightness might have shone upon her from the distance. For it was a bright day for both these old lovers; Mattie had augured well that one explanation--a few words, true and gentle, that scarcely stood for explanation even--would be sufficient, and disperse all clouds that had hung heavily above them. Both had had much time for thought and regret--both had found little solace on the paths of life they had pursued, and looked back very often at the life they had given up together. But the worst was over, and the fairer time--the old love, almost, if that were possible--was coming back once more. Sidney had believed it, when Mattie had stolen into the shop and closed the door upon them; he had felt all his old love return at Harriet's appearance, at her fear of him; at her strange half-sad, half-reproachful look towards him when they had first met that day; he knew, then, how wrong he had been, and how rightfully Mattie had read him--what love he bore to the weak girl still, and what a poor substitute for love he would have offered the stronger, _better_ woman. Will our readers think that Mattie Gray was worth a dozen Harriet Wesdens?--that Sidney made a bad choice, and that the hero--if we dare call him so--should have married the heroine according to established rule? Or will they believe, with us, that he made his proper choice, and that Harriet and he were the most fitting couple to live happy ever afterwards? If he did not treat Mattie as fairly as she should have been treated, it was an error of judgment on his part, and we are all liable to errors of a similar description. He believed that he was acting for the best; he had taught himself in the first instance to believe in his love for her, and when he had awakened to the truth his honour would not let him draw back, until Mattie's pride had released him. Later in life he fancied, once or twice, that he caught a glimpse of the real truth, but he kept the idea to himself, like a sensible man; he had succeeded in life, and was his cousin's partner then--perhaps more conceited than in the old days. And if Mattie suffered for awhile, why, heroines are born unto trouble, or where would be the subscribers to our story-books? This was Mattie's great day of suffering--for ever to be remembered as a landmark standing out sharp and rugged in life's retrospect. No one ever guessed half the terrible battle which she fought that day; and how she came forth smiling and victorious, with the deep wounds hidden, lest her distress should affect others who were happier than she.