She sank down on her knees and prayed as honest Ann had wished. But she did not pray for the best to happen as she had promised. She knew what was best for her and others--so far as it is possible to know that--and she asked for strength to do her best. CHAPTER VI. SIGNS OF CHANGE. Mr. Gray, though he had not remarked any change that was prejudicial to his daughter Mattie, was quick enough to detect the new difference in her manner. He knew then that she had not been "her old self," as Ann Packet had termed it, by the old manner which was now substituted. She was more gentle, less distracted, kinder in her way altogether, more thoughtful of what his requirements consisted, and which was the best way to expedite them. If she smiled with an effort still, _that_ he did not remark; he felt the benefit of the change and was content with it; he knew no reason why there should be any effort in her looks. He expected to hear all on the first day that Mattie had received good news of Sidney Hinchford; that he was quite well perhaps, and coming back to his old home for a while--coming back to settle _that_ engagement. He did not suggest the name however; he waited for suggestions. Mattie had shown that she was tenacious on that question of engagement, and far from disposed to state her ultimate intentions. He could afford to wait, knowing that all was well! In the evening his forbearance was rewarded by Mattie speaking of Sidney. She knew that to hold that name for ever in the background was unnatural. She was anxious to keep it a well known name, and not shrink at an allusion to it, as though she feared to think of Sid, or would consign him for ever to oblivion. "It's almost time we heard how Sidney was, father," she said. "Ah! it is. His cousin said that we should see him very shortly." "It depends upon the doctor, I suppose," said Mattie; "he has promised to obey Doctor Bario implicitly." "That's the reason, doubtless," said Mr. Gray; "well, I shall be glad to hear from him--a long silence between friends is always unsatisfactory, and often leads to unsatisfactory results. We shall hear from him very shortly, I feel certain. That young man, his cousin, might have called--I have much to tell him about his future course in life, if he will only listen to me. I mark progress in him, and he must not falter in the narrow way." Mattie thought that Maurice Hinchford might have called more frequently if it had not been for the good advice that lay in wait for him, but she did not tell her father so. Her father meant well, and she seldom attacked his "best intentions." He was a man who had done much good--chiefly in a darker sphere than his own, where hard words are wanted for hard hearts--and she respected his opinions. She had not understood him very quickly--such men are always hard to understand--but she knew his genuineness, and it was not difficult to love him.