So it seemed to Mrs. Bradby, as she drove away from the Abbey, with gratitude for all that she had received there warm in her heart. She had come to see in Caroline, as Caroline saw in Maurice, something deeper than what was shown on the surface, something deeper even than the kindness and goodness that was there for all to see. If Maurice had been older, more sure of himself, it seemed to her in her new view of him that he might have aspired to this girl, in spite of the differences between them. She would not think that they would matter; she was too fine to base herself upon the accidents of her upbringing. She would take a man for what he was, not for his outward seeming. But Maurice was still immature; he would not himself think that he had enough to offer a girl such as Caroline, nor be able to impress her to step out of the conventions that hemmed her round. It was just as well. Nothing but trouble, it seemed to her, could come from a love declared and returned. Maurice had done so well that he was to be paid as Sub-Agent to the Abington property from the beginning of the year. Mr. Grafton, she knew, had arranged that, who was always so kind. But his kindness could hardly be expected to stand the test of giving his daughter to a young man who would be making barely enough money to keep himself, and was quite outside the circle in which marriages were formed for her and her like. It was, perhaps, something of a comfort to be convinced that Maurice, whatever he might feel towards Caroline, would be too diffident to bring on that complication, and that she would not lend herself to it. But she had reckoned without the impulsions of youth, of dependence upon one side and of gratitude and pity on the other. Maurice had been moved on to a sofa by the open window, and Caroline was sitting by his side talking to him, as she had sat and talked for days past. By and bye--she never afterwards remembered quite how--her hand was lying in his, and they were looking into one another's eyes, with a meaning infinitely tender and trustful. There was nobody in the world but their two selves, and they both knew it, without any necessity for words. Caroline's time had come. She had not known it until that moment, but she knew it now without the shadow of a doubt, and accepted it with complete surrender. CHAPTER XVI MAURICE Grafton had gone up to London on Monday morning, and would not be back until Friday evening. Caroline wrote to him on Tuesday morning. Maurice also wrote to him. There was no reply to either of the letters. Caroline had told him that she should tell no one else until she heard from him, or saw him.