"She might have had the politeness to wait till I got out of the door," said Miss Adeline, as Grace fleetly vanished up the stair-case. "Dissolve them,' indeed-that he can't do; and dissolve five thousand five hundred a year-it's all at seven per cent.-that he won't do; but I kind o' dread to throw open the blinds at once; what is the use of asking advice ?" Some of our readers may recoil with as much displeasure from Grace's betrothal, as she felt disgust at the presumption of Miss Clapp's expectations! for there are those who in spite of the discordant matches of every day will as freshly wonder at every new one as the child who, on looking at an old man with a young wife, exclaimed, "What a poor two you make!" Not that the world, in general, by which comprehensive phrase is designated the particular circle in which Miss Herbert moved, would feel anything other than perhaps a momentary sensation at her rare good fortune;-the general feeling in relation to any woman being that she is better off in port than afloat. But there may be some, who, comprehending the nobility of Grace's nature, will feel a keen disappointment at this crisis of her fate, having believed that though uncontrolled, unguided, unwarned, she would, in Ida Roorbach's phrase, "have worked out her own deliverance," and not have yielded at last to extraneous influences. She had clung to her distasteful home with the one dear compensation of her Uncle Walter's presence, though solicited by the advantageous parties enumerated by Mr. Herbert to Lisle, and others quite as advantageous, unknown to him. She was now the victim of an illusion, an illusion to which an imaginative unoccupied young woman, cast into a state of society with which she has few sympathies, is most miserably exposed. Letter-writing was not Copley's speciality, but he wrote, each day of his short absence, sincerely, and therefore earnestly. He spoke of the future as a fait accompli. Grace passed carelessly over his request that the finishingup and decorations of his house should be controlled by her judgment and taste, who "was soon to be its adored mistress;" and over his exultation in cheating the town of its gossip though with this she rather sympathizedto dwell on his professions of ardent love, his impatience to return and bask in the summer of her kindness, after the "polar winter he had endured," and like phrases, common coin in common circulation. Grace took them at their current value. The happiness of being loved is next to that of loving, and perhaps she felt that the perfection of the one made up for the still haunting consciousness of the imperfection of the other. CHAPTER XXVIII. Tidings and Comments. "A newer page In the great record of the world is thine; It was a significant circumstance that Grace did not communicate to one of her friends, not even to her dear Uncle Walter, her engagement by word of mouth. Was it that she instinctively avoided the truth that flashes from the face before the soul is shrouded in plastic words and conventional phrases? Copley had recently gained in Mr. Herbert's good opinion. He had even, on one or two occasions, actually praised him in Grace's hearing, yet the sigh, with which he ended, indicated but too truly an ineradicable disapprobation of the man. There was a singular sympathy between the old man and the young woman; an understanding and correspondence that did not need the intervention of words. And Uncle Walter was a man of few words, especially on those occasions when ordinary men are diffuse. The more intense the heat, the less crackling was there. Grace met Mr. Herbert, for the first time after her brief written announcement to him of her engagement, the next morning at breakfast. He was a very late riser, and she was accustomed to give him his breakfast. It was their hour of privilege and security, Mrs. Carlton being then in the field, laying out the momentous duties of her productive life. Grace met her uncle with her usual dutiful salutation, and took her seat. Both parties were silent. That was no unusual circumstance, for there was that perfect love between them that casts out restraint of all sorts. They were sometimes silent through the whole meal, and sometimes merry as children. Grace poured out a cup of coffee; Mr. Herbert took it, but their eyes did not meet. The servant brought in his hot toast and egg, and placed them by him. He touched neither, but sat for a few moments, looking out of the window as far away from poor Grace as possible, and then seizing a morning-paper he turned over its mammoth-pages: it would not do; his blinded eyes could not see the words, and the rustling only sharpened the silence. He threw it down, rose from his seat, and was running away like a child from what he had not courage to face. Uncle Walter was a child. Grace sprang to him, and throwing her arms around him, and bursting into tears, said, "You must not go so, dear Uncle Walter. Speak one word to me, won't you? can't you? Well, then, I will undo, unsay it all!" "Oh, no, no!" he cried, his heart at last finding vent in words; "no, you have done it, my child, my all; I am foolish, Grace I am old-God forgive me! God bless you!" And then gently disengaging her arms, he seated her on the sofa, and left her sobbing there; and taking his hat and cape, he left the room and hobbled through the long entry from the breakfast-room to the outer door, then returned, and half-opening the door, in a sort of choking between laughing and crying, "Mind, Grace," he said, 66 you give me notice to quit in time. I'll set up my rest with Eleanor and May; I'll not stay in this house after the only live person in it leaves it." "Engaged! let me see her note," cried Anne Carleton to her mother, who had summoned her daughter to her room to receive the news. She read Grace's missive. It was a short reading, merely a respectful announcement of her engagement, and an injunction to present secrecy. Secrecy!" exclaimed Miss Anne; "I wonder who will 66 care to tell the news-men are shameful! It was only last Thursday, at Mrs. Smith's, that Horace Copley said such things to me, and looked more than he said." "My dear!" Oh, ma'am, you need not undertake to convince me that he did not mean anything I know him. What's become of your study of human nature, ma'am? You've missed in your lesson this time." My dear!" "Well, it's too provoking. I should have accepted Edmund Fay, or Guy Clayton, if you had not harped upon what you called a 'wavering scale,' and such nonsense." "My dear Anne, you are not respectful. One cannot always clearly discern the future." "Oh, I know. But you are always in a fog, and you always think you have nothing to do but heave your lead ;-human nature! that's a riddle you can't read, ma'am !" (After a pause,) "I never heard him admire anything in Grace, but her aristocratic air. And she and her uncle profess to look down upon fashion, and fortune, and the world, and so on. I never believed them. Who is a man of the world, if Copley is not? So dreadfully shocked they were at our asking Belson and Count de Salle. They and Copley are birds of a feather." "Not quite, my dear. Not that I defend brother Walter or Grace, for criticizing us; they knew 1 did not approve of intimacies with those men, nor would I exclude them from large parties, because they are not just what they should be; judge not,' etc." "Oh, mamma, what is the use of talking so? Everybody knows what Sam Belson is, and you know besides." My dear, there is a difference between Belson and Copley. Belson lives by-I don't know what, possibly gambling! he does not respect public opinion; he—in short, he lives freely; whereas Copley is prudent as regards public opinion; he has immense wealth, and does not waste it. Of late I hear nothing against him; on the contrary, I am told-" "All humbug, mamma-every bit of it humbug; all to throw dust in people's eyes. How easily old folks are humbugged!" Mrs. Herbert was on the verge of irritation,-she never went beyond it. "I must confess I do not like your levity, Anne," she said; "and if you really have so low an opinion of Mr. Copley, I own I do not see why you are not willing to give him up to Grace." "Oh, low opinion; I have no such thing. I look upon Horace Copley as the very first match in New York. I am not in love with him. If he should marry any one else, I should not hang myself; but to have Grace Herbert the one chosen, and I to be the one unengaged! Besides, I never professed to be particular. I am willing a man should amuse himself the way he likes best. One thing please give me credit for, mamma-I never was humbugged by Grace." So far as entertaining a blind faith in human virtue is humbug, Anne Carlton might claim complete exemption from it. "What do you mean, my child ?" asked Mrs. Herbert. "Why, I always said that Grace was contriving and working for this prize, and would go through fire and water to attain it. Now, tell me, mamma-you understand human nature, you know-would any girl in Grace's position pass by the opportunities she has had, unless for an ulterior object? Think of a girl, without fortune, rejecting the Honourable Mr. Grey, of a noble English family, possessing everything that Grace professes to admire. Tut, tut, mamma; it is not so easy to throw dust in my eyes. Grace is getting on-she is two-and-twenty, and past." She paused, and then added, "When is the wedding coming off?" "That I don't know; probably soon-there is no reason for delay. But, my dear, I do hope you will put the best face on the matter, and congratulate Grace. I should be mortified to have her suspect you of envying her good fortune; indeed, we ought always to rejoice with the happy." "Never fear, ma'am-I can play my own cards." Anne was leaving the room, and turning back, "It's an ill wind that blows no good!" she said, with beaming satisfaction. "We shall have a clear riddance of old Walter Herbert now." "Don't speak in that way, Anne; you know I have |