Dinner was hardly over that evening when Jack disappeared. He spent nearly all his evenings with Rose, and so his absence was not remarked. Mr. Hamlin had been called away to Scotland for two or three days on business. Mrs. Hamlin, Grace and Sedgwick passed into the parlor. After a little conversation, Sedgwick asked Grace to sing, and as she went to the piano Mrs. Hamlin arose and left the room. Grace struck the instrument softly, and in a moment began to sing. The piece she selected was the old one beginning: "Could you come back to me, Douglas, Douglas, In the old likeness that I knew, I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas, Douglas, Douglas, tender and true." There was a strange thrill in the voice of Grace as the song progressed, and when she reached the fourth stanza and sang: "I never was worthy of you, Douglas, Not half worthy the like of you; Now, all men beside seem to me like shadows,-- I love you, Douglas, tender and true," the last words ended in a tone very much like a sob, and the singing ceased. Sedgwick had risen, and walked to the side of Grace while she sang. When she ceased he said: "That is a very touching song, Miss Grace. Your voice vibrates in it as though your heart were heavy." "It is," she frankly answered. He bent and took an unresisting hand and said: "If you are in trouble, may I not try to be your comforter?" She rose from the piano, and looking up clear and brave into the eyes of the young man, said: "You are most kind, but I cannot tell you why my heart is heavy." He looked down into her eyes for a moment and then said: "My heart is likewise heavy, Miss Grace; may I tell you why?" "Surely," she answered, "if you have a sorrow, and if there is any balm in this household, it shall be yours." He took her other hand, and drawing her gently toward him, said: "Come near to me Miss Grace. I am involved in a trouble which I never dreamed of when I came here. Mine has been a harsh life, but I have always tried to meet my fate resignedly. Now I am overborne. Since the first hour I met you, first looked into your divine face, first felt your hand-clasp and heard your voice, my heart has been on fire. You have become my divinity. I worship you. Oh, Grace, can you give me a thread, be it ever so slight, out of which I may weave a hope that some time you will bend, and sanctify my life by becoming my wife?" As he spoke, over the pale face of Grace Meredith an almost imperceptible glow spread, as when an incandescent lamp is lighted under a translucent shade; her eyes grew moist, her lips quivered, she trembled in every limb, and, suddenly dropping on her knees, drew his hands to her lips, kissed them, and murmured: "O! my king!" He caught her to him and cried: "Is it true? Is it true? Do you really care for me?" She looked up and said: "O, my blind darling, you are so very, very blind! My soul has been calling to your soul since the first hour you came."