noticed the far-away look and wished he might know her thoughts.

What would have been his surprise, could he have been told at this
moment how much he was already indebted to Christian Science? for had it
not softened the cruel pride that had so encrusted her before? He knew
nothing of this. He perceived a change in her manner and even character
since he last saw her two years before, although even then his great
love had been able to condone all weaknesses, or what others would call
weaknesses. To him they were part of her lovableness.

When she so coldly rejected him, unlike most men, he had determined to
wait patiently for her indifference to turn into reciprocation. He had
recognized but one thing, the simple, supreme fact that he loved Grace
Hall. In regard to her, there was and never could be any other thought.
Inspired with such love as this, such sublime patience, such infinite
hope, is it any wonder he looked into her eyes and read a hint of
victory?

The time was drawing near. His two years of waiting surely gave him
liberty to ask, and the right to receive.... As for that, love, such
love as his, had royal rights and it would win its own way when the
moment came. He would approach the subject gradually, talking about his
coming departure, although he had mentioned that in his note, had even
dared to tell her this must be his excuse for requesting an answer
sooner than she wished to give it.

"Oh, what a lovely group of colors!" exclaimed Grace, involuntarily,
pointing to a tree decked in the most gorgeous foliage.

"Shall I get some leaves for you?" he asked, anticipating her desire,
and descended from the carriage.

Presently he returned, with his hands full of small branches. "They are
lovely hues. Is there not something else you would like? I saw some
beautiful ferns over yonder," he said, pointing to the spot.

"Will we have time? I _would_ like to get out," she exclaimed eagerly.

"Time! 'There's time for all things,' Shakespeare says," laughed Mr.
Carrington, as he assisted her to alight.

Grace was in her element amid the speaking grandeur of Nature's hills.

"Have you a sharp pencil, Mr. Carrington? I seem to have lost the one I
always carry with me, and that grand oak tree I must have as a model."

He quickly sharpened one and gave it to her.

How beautiful she looked! He delighted to watch every movement of the
deft fingers, to study every expression of the beautiful eyes and mobile
m