ised when, turning suddenly towards him with a very sweet smile, she
said in a resolute tone,--

"There! that's done with. I hope you will forgive my rudeness, Mr. White;
but the truth is I was awfully shocked at the first sight of the house. It
isn't your house, you know, so it isn't quite so bad for me to say so; and
I'm so glad you hate it as much as I do. Now I am never going to think
about it again,--never."

"Why, can you help it, Mrs. Philbrick?" asked Stephen, in a wondering
tone. "I can't. I hate it more and more, I verily believe, each time I
come home; and I think that, if my mother weren't in it, I should burn it
down some night."

Mercy looked at him with a certain shade of the same contempt with which
she had looked at the house; and Stephen winced, as she said coolly,--

"Why, of course I can help it. I should be very much ashamed of myself if
I couldn't. I never allow myself to be distressed by things which I can't
help,--at least, that sort of thing," added Mercy, her face clouding with
the sudden recollection of a grief that she had not been able to rise
above. "Of course, I don't mean real troubles, like grief about any one
you love. One can't wholly conquer such troubles as that; but one can do a
great deal more even with these than people usually suppose. I am not sure
that it is right to let ourselves be unhappy about any thing, even the
worst of troubles. But I must hurry home now. It is growing late."

"Mrs. Philbrick," exclaimed Stephen, earnestly: "please come into the
house, and speak to my mother a moment. You don't know how she has been
looking forward to your coming."

"Oh, no, I cannot possibly do that," replied Mercy. "There is no reason
why I should call on your mother, merely because we are going to live in
the same house."

"But I assure you," persisted Stephen, "that it will give her the greatest
pleasure. She is a helpless cripple, and never leaves her bed. She has
probably been watching us from the window. She always watches for me. She
will wonder if I do not bring you in to see her. Please come," he said
with a tone which it was impossible to resist; and Mercy went.

Mrs. White had indeed been watching them from the window; but Stephen had
reckoned without his host, or rather without his hostess, when he assured
Mercy that his mother would be so glad to see her. The wisest and the
tenderest of men are continually making blunders in their relations with
women; especially if