He awoke in a similar mood next morning: but there was eight o'clock service near, and the silver-toned bell awakened better thoughts. He dressed hurriedly, and went to church. He came back sadder, but rather less hot, less bitter: he had his breakfast, improved his toilet, went to the livery stable, and drove to “Woodbine Villa.” Mr. and Miss Carden had just finished breakfast, when he drove up to the door. “Who is this?” said Mr. Carden. “What, have you forgotten Mr. Little?” “Indeed! Why, how he is dressed. I took him for a gentleman.” “You were not very far wrong, papa. He is a gentleman at heart.” Jael came in equipped for the ride. She was neatly dressed, and had a plain shepherd's-plaid shawl, that suited her noble bust. She looked a picture of health and happiness. “If you please, miss, he is come to take me to Cairnhope.” “Oh! is it for that? And I declare you expected him, too.” “Yes,” said Jael, and blushed. “You never told me,” said Grace, with a light touch of asperity. “I didn't feel very sure he would keep his word.” “Then you don't know him as well as I do.” “I haven't the chance. He speaks a deal more to you than he do to me.” “Well, Jael, you needn't snub me, because you are going with Mr. Little.” As a bone, put between two friendly dogs, causes a growl, so when a handsome young man enters on the scene, I have seen young women lose a little of that unmitigated sweetness which marked them a moment before. With Grace, however, to snap and to repent generally followed in a breath. “I hope you will have a happy day, dear, as happy as you deserve.” She then went to kiss her, but gave her cheek, instead of her lips. “There,” said she, in rather a flurried way, “don't keep Mr. Little waiting.” Just as they drove off, Grace came to the window, after a slight irresolution, and kissed her hand to them enchantingly; at which a sudden flood of rapture rushed through Little's heart, and flushed his cheek, and fired his dark eye; Grace caught its flash full in hers, and instinctively retired a step. They were off. “How bright and happy they look,” said she to her father. And no wonder. She sat down, and, somehow, she felt singularly dull and lonely. Then she dressed for church, languidly. Then she went to church. By-and-by she came back from church. Then she sat down, in her bonnet, and felt alone in the world, and sad; and at last she found herself quietly crying, as young ladies will sometimes, without any visible cause. Then she asked herself what on earth she was crying about, and herself told her she was a little hysterical fool, and wanted a good beating. Then she plucked up spirit, and dried her eyes. Then she took to yawning, and said Sunday was a dull day, and life itself rather a wearisome thing. Then a servant came to inquire if she was at home. “What, on Sunday? Of course not. Who is it?” “Mr. Coventry, miss.” “I am at home.” CHAPTER X.