the
glass was, "How changed!"--but such good in life as remained to her she
would keep. If her chief wish were fulfilled, she could imagine herself
getting the comeliness of a matron fit for the highest rank. The little
faces beside her, almost exact reductions of her own, seemed to tell of
the blooming curves which had once been where now was sunken pallor.
But the children kissed the pale cheeks and never found them deficient.
That love was now the one end of her life.

Suddenly Mrs. Glasher turned away her head from Josephine's book and
listened. "Hush, dear! I think some one is coming."

Henleigh the boy jumped up and said, "Mamma, is it the miller with my
donkey?"

He got no answer, and going up to his mamma's knee repeated his
question in an insistent tone. But the door opened, and the servant
announced Mr. Grandcourt. Mrs. Glasher rose in some agitation. Henleigh
frowned at him in disgust at his not being the miller, and the three
little girls lifted up their dark eyes to him timidly. They had none of
them any particular liking for this friend of mamma's--in fact, when he
had taken Mrs. Glasher's hand and then turned to put his other hand on
Henleigh's head, that energetic scion began to beat the friend's arm
away with his fists. The little girls submitted bashfully to be patted
under the chin and kissed, but on the whole it seemed better to send
them into the garden, where they were presently dancing and chatting
with the dogs on the gravel.

"How far are you come?" said Mrs. Glasher, as Grandcourt put away his
hat and overcoat.

"From Diplow," he answered slowly, seating himself opposite her and
looking at her with an unnoting gaze which she noted.

"You are tired, then."

"No, I rested at the Junction--a hideous hole. These railway journeys
are always a confounded bore. But I had coffee and smoked."

Grandcourt drew out his handkerchief, rubbed his face, and in returning
the handkerchief to his pocket looked at his crossed knee and blameless
boot, as if any stranger were opposite to him, instead of a woman
quivering with a suspense which every word and look of his was to
incline toward hope or dread. But he was really occupied with their
interview and what it was likely to include. Imagine the difference in
rate of emotion between this woman whom the years had worn to a more
conscious dependence and sharper eagerness, and this man whom they were
dulling into a more neutral obstinacy.

"I expected t