"Oh, my dear!" said poor Mrs. Dorriman, her long self-repression giving way, and surprising the girl by her glistening eyes and brilliant flash of colour, "give me the sea and the hills;" and though, as half ashamed of having shown her craving for both these things, she added, hastily, "Put me out of it, my dear; never mind me. I can be happy anywhere." Their first move was soon decided upon now. To one of the lovely bays at the mouth of the Clyde they resolved to go, and with hearts fluttering with excitement, at one moment studying the Railway Guide, at another a map, they decided to go to Lornbay, and then hastily resumed their packing. Three days came and went swiftly, and satisfactory answers having been received about rooms in the best hotel, Mrs. Dorriman, not without various doubts as to her fitness for this great responsibility, found herself alone with the girls, leaving Renton with all its varied experiences behind them in its murky vale of smoke. It often happens that the realization of a wish brings with it a certain fear as to whether the intensity of the wish has been altogether full of wisdom, particularly is this the case when we are conscious of having thought of ourselves, to the exclusion of any other consideration. Of the trio who were whirling to the mouth of the Clyde, Grace was the most disturbed and the one least able to enjoy the change of scene, the one upon whose spirit lay the shadow of a reproach. She was conscious of having from the first placed herself in a position of antagonism to Mr. Sandford. She had intended him to recognise her merits, and to allow her to influence him as she had influenced those school-companions to whom she had been as a superior being. But she had forgotten to take into account his temper, his prejudices, and his passions; and, though she now recognised that she had failed, she blamed his obtuseness, and not her own powers, for the failure. Margaret was evidently much to him; she was nothing, and the one person who had come there, though he fell far short of being a prince, had utterly also failed to see in her any attraction. This also she imagined was due to some fault in him and not in her. Margaret had a way of effacing herself, of putting herself so completely out of the question, that Grace's vanity was almost excusable. Reared in the belief of her possessing many gifts, flattered by the small world around her, it would require a much severer blow to her pride than Mr. Sandford's rudeness and Mr. Drayton's blindness, before she learnt how wide a difference exists between the value we put upon ourselves and the value placed upon us by outsiders who are not biassed or prejudiced in any way in our favour. To the indifferent world poor Grace would simply be an ordinary-looking girl who gave herself airs. But she had this still to learn.