“Why should you suppose such a thing? I am sure he never thought of doing so. I dare say he went with Peter to the theatre.” “Grandmother had a visitor to-day--a grandson of Mrs. Saint-Ange.” “She told me so.” “He is very handsome, Annette says.” “Well, then, he will, perhaps, find work for idle hearts to do. Your grandmother declares Annette shall marry a Dutchman. But when I was a girl French nobles fleeing from Robespierre elbowed one another on Broadway, and they carried off most of the rich and pretty Dutch maidens. A Frenchman is a great temptation; your grandmother will have to guard her determination, or she may be disappointed.” “Good-night, dear mother. I will help you in the morning to put everything straight.” “Good-night, and good angels give you good dreams, dear one.” And as Sappha put down her candle in the dim, lonely room, and hastened her disrobing because of the cold, she could not help wondering where all the enthusiasms of the early evening were gone to--the light, the warmth, the good cheer, the good fellowship, the joy of song, the thrill of love. They had been so vividly present two hours ago, and now they were so vividly absent that the tears came unbidden to her eyes, and she had an overpowering sense of discouragement and defeat. And the sting of this inward depression was Leonard Murray. “He might have come back for an hour! He might have come! and he did not.” Murmuring this sorrowful complaint she went into the land of sleep. And in that world of the soul she met her angel, and was so counselled and strengthened that she awoke with a light heart and with song upon her lips--all her fret and lurking jealousy turned into a frank confidence; all her doubts changed into the happiest hopes. And as every one has, more or less, frequently experienced this marvellous communion, this falling on sleep angry, disappointed, dismayed, and awakening soothed, satisfied, encouraged, there is no need to speculate concerning such a spiritual transformation. Those who have the key to it require no tutor; those who have not the key could not be made to understand. Sappha simply and cheerfully accepted the change; she was even able to see where she had been unreasonable in her expectations; her whole mood was softened and more generous. She dressed herself and went down, rosy with the cold, and her father found her standing before the blazing fire warming her feet and hands. The windows were white with frost, and a bugle sounded piercingly sweet in the cold, clear air; but the big room was full of comfort and of the promise of a good plentiful meal. They began to talk at once about the dinner party of the previous evening, and Sappha said: “The best part of the whole affair was grandmother. I think, father, that she looked about twenty years old, when she was speaking. How radiant was her face! How sweet her voice! How proud I am to be her granddaughter!”