dol was clay all
the same. Wealth and power would do for John Hollingford what his
father's misconduct had undone. It was utter silliness my abasing
myself, saying that Rachel Leonard was more lovable than I. Her rich
expectations were her superior charm. Oh me! how people will talk, just
to be thought knowing, just to be thought wise, just to dazzle, and to
create an excitement for the hour.

I do think that Grace Tyrrell loved me after her own fashion, and that
she thought I had been hardly used; but the sympathy she gave me was a
weak sympathy, that loved to spend itself in words, that was curious to
sift out the matter of my grief, that laid little wiles to prove the
judgment she had given me true. She had watched them (Rachel and John),
she said, and John's manner was not the manner of a lover, though he
affected it as much as he could. He was trying to bind her with
promises, but she would not be bound. Yes, she, Grace, had watched them,
and would watch them. Every night she brought me into her room, and
detailed her observations of the day, and pitied and petted and caressed
her poor darling. I was weak in health, and unutterably lonely and sad,
and I clung to her protection and kindness. But instinctively I
distrusted her judgment. I disliked her coarse views of things, and
followed her counsels doubtingly.

I have not described her to you yet, my children. Imagine, then, a
showy, frivolous-looking, blonde young woman, fond of pretty feathers,
and flowers, and gay colours; pretty enough in her way, good-humoured
and talkative.

I thought, then, that I had every reason to be grateful to her, and I
blamed myself for not loving her spontaneously, as I had loved, as I
still fought against loving Rachel. I think now that I had no reason to
be grateful to her. If she had not been always by my side, so faithful,
so watchful, so never-failing with her worldly lesson, I think I should
have found a way out of the darkness of my trouble. I think I should
have softened a little when Rachel met me in the gallery, twined her
soft arm round my neck, and asked me why we two should be so estranged.
I think I should have wept when John took my hand between his two and
asked me, in God's name, to tell him why I had grown so altered. But I
was blind, deaf, and dumb to their advances. Their reproaches were
meaningless, their caresses treacherous, and I would have none of them.
I would stand where they themselves had placed me, bu