“You fancy that.” “It is not all fancy; for--by heaven! there he is at the gate. Two visits to my one; there. Well, all the better, I'll talk to HIM.” He rose from his seat black with wrath. Grace turned pale, and rang the bell in a moment. The servant entered the room, just as Mr. Coventry knocked at the door. “Not at home to anybody,” said she. Mr. Coventry's voice was heard to say incredulously, “Not at home?” Then he retired slowly, and did not leave the neighborhood. He had called at an hour when Grace was always at home. Henry sat down, and said, “Thank you, Grace.” But he looked very gloomy and disturbed. She sat down too, and then they looked at each other. Henry was the first to speak. “We are both pupils of the good doctor. Put yourself in my place. That man troubles our love, and makes my heavy heart a sore heart.” The tears were in Grace's eyes. “Dearest,” said she, “I will not put myself in your place; you would lose by that, for I love you better than myself. Yes, it is unjust that you should be allowed to visit me but once a week, and he should visit me when he chooses. I assure you I have permitted his visits out of pure good-nature; and now I will put an end to them.” She drew her desk toward her, and wrote to Mr. Coventry. It took her some little time. She handed Henry the letter to read. He took it in his hand; but hesitated. He inquired what would be the effect of it? “That he will never visit me again till you and I are married, or engaged, and that is the same thing. Why don't you read it?” “I don't know: it goes against me, somehow. Seems unmanly. I'll take your word for it.” This charmed Grace. “Ah,” said she, “I have chosen right.” Then he kissed her hands, and blessed her: and then she told him it was nothing; he was a goose, and had no idea what she would do for him; “more than you would do for me, I know,” said she. That he denied, and then she said she might perhaps put him to the proof some day. They were so happy together, time slipped away unheeded. It was full three hours before Henry could tear himself away, though he knew he was wanted at the works; and he went out at the gate, glowing with happiness: and Coventry, who was ready to drop with the fatigue of walking and watching just above, saw him come out triumphant. Then it was his turn to feel a deadly qualm. However, he waited a little longer, and then made his call. “Not at home.” Henry, on his way to the works, looked in on his mother, and told her how nobly Grace had behaved. Mrs. Little was pleased, and it smoothed down her maternal bristles, and made it much easier for her to carry out her design. For the first time since Mr. Carden had offended her by his cold-blooded treatment of her son, she called at Woodbine Villa. Grace was at home to see her, and met her with a blushing timidity, and piteous, wistful looks, not easy to misunderstand nor to resist.