her plied him
with questions, all about Cairnhope.

Here was an unexpected relief. Henry took a superficial view of all
this. Sharp young men of twenty-four understand a great many things; but
they can't quite measure their mothers yet.

Henry was selfishly pleased, but not ungrateful, and they passed a
pleasant and affectionate time: and, as for leaving Hillsborough, the
topic was avoided by tacit consent.

Next morning, after this easy victory, Henry took a cab and got to
"Woodbine Villa" by a circuitous route. His heart beat high as he
entered the room where Grace was seated. After the extraordinary warmth
and familiarity she had shown him at the last interview, he took for
granted he had made a lasting progress in her regard.

But she received him with a cold and distant manner, that quite benumbed
him. Grace Carden's face and manner were so much more expressive than
other people's, that you would never mistake or doubt the mood she was
in; and this morning she was freezing.

The fact is, Miss Carden had been tormenting herself: and when beauty
suffers, it is very apt to make others suffer as well.

"I am glad you are come, Mr. Little," said she, "for I have been taking
myself to task ever since, and I blame myself very much for some things
I said. In the first place, it was not for me" (here the fair speaker
colored up to the temples) "to interfere in your affairs at all:
and then, if I must take such a liberty, I ought to have advised you
sensibly, and for your good. I have been asking people, and they all
tell me it is madness for one person to fight against these Unions.
Everybody gets crushed. So now let me hope you will carry out your wise
intention, and leave Hillsborough; and then my conscience will be at
ease."

Every word fell like an icicle on her hearer's heart. To please this
cold, changeful creature, he had settled to defy the unchangeable
Unions, and had been ready to resist his mother, and slight her immortal
and unchanging love.

"You don't answer me, sir!" said Miss Carden, with an air of lofty
surprise.

"I answered you yesterday," said he sullenly. "A man can't chop and
change like a weathercock."

"But it is not changing, it's only going back to your own intention.
You know you were going to leave Hillsborough, before I talked all that
nonsense. Your story had set me on fire, and that's my only excuse.
Well, now, the same person takes the liberty to give you wise and
considerate ad