"Another case of acids mixing and blowing up," said Grace, laughing; "he is in a perpetual state of effervescence." "No, but seriously, Grace, he has a great deal of good in him, and his devotion to his wife shows he has warm affections somewhere, and he has always been kind to me." "You win every one, even Paul. I know well that you were his first grand passion, and curiously enough I am not jealous." "Who talks of jealousy?" said a voice from below, and Paul, his cigar nearly ended, came under the window. "I am merely saying, dear," said Grace in her most melting accents, "that, though you once were madly in love with Margaret, I am _not_ jealous." And laughing, Grace escaped to her own room. Margaret remained at the window. She was moved by what Grace had repeated to her about her child; yes, better to have lost it here than to have seen it that.... And Grace was really very happy. Paul was most kind and good, and there was more manliness about him now than she had ever thought him capable of; and yet, she said to herself, that for her to give her whole heart, to have such an affection for any one, such as Grace had for her husband, there must be higher qualities. She must look up more, she must have help, and some one in whom she could find a better and a nobler self. And in the softening influences of that hour and that scene a vivid blush rose to her face, and she told herself that already one was there; and that her heart, crushed as it had been, and cruelly as she had suffered, was not hopelessly embittered. She knew that she could love, and then she sighed. Large tears came into her eyes and rolled slowly down unchecked over her face, a sudden thrill of passion and of hope went through her frame, and she knew she did love! Next morning came parting with Grace, but it was a parting in which she allowed no sorrow to appear. She utterly bewildered Mrs. Dorriman by saying to her, "You will, I hope, soon have very good news to send me." "About what, my dear?" and poor Mrs. Dorriman's face was expressive of blankest bewilderment. "About every thing, generally," said Grace; "never mind about understanding now, you will some day; and it will be all right." When she and Paul had waved a last farewell Mrs. Dorriman stood looking out of the window till the carriage became a speck upon the horizon. "I wonder what Grace meant, Margaret my love? she does say such odd things, sometimes. Did you hear what she said to me just now?" "I do not think I know which particular thing you mean, dear auntie; Grace says so many odd things." "She hoped I should soon have very good news to send her. Now, my dear, what news can I have to send her from here? It really is a very odd saying and I am quite puzzled." "Do not puzzle yourself; Grace often says things that have no meaning." "But what do you think, Margaret? You know her so much better than I do. What are you thinking about, just now?"