lean on them
either in joy or sorrow: the whole thing as regards them must be
postponed until the future life. Such had been Grace's conclusion with
regard to her brother. She well knew that any attempt to restore their
former intimacy would only diminish and destroy what little chance of
happiness yet remained to him; and it may therefore be imagined with
what changed eyes she read Walter Sydenham's letter from those of
years ago.

There was a sound of stamping feet at the front door; and John came
in, all ruddy and snow-powdered, but looking, on the whole, uncommonly
cheerful.

"Well, Gracie," he said, "the fact is, I shall have to let Lillie go
to New York for a week or two, to see those Follingsbees. Hang them!
But what's the matter, Gracie? Have you been crying, or sitting up all
night reading, or what?"

The fact was, that Gracie had for once been indulging in a good cry,
rather pitying herself for her loneliness, now that the offer of
relief had come. She laughed, though; and, handing John her letter,
said,--

"Look here, John! here's a letter I have just had from Walter
Sydenham."

John broke out into a loud, hilarious laugh.

"The blessed old brick!" said he. "Has he turned up again?"

"Read the letter, John," said Grace. "I don't know exactly how to
answer it."

John read the letter, and seemed to grow more and more quiet as he
read it. Then he came and stood by Grace, and stroked her hair gently.

"I wish, Gracie dear," he said, "you had asked my advice about this
matter years ago. You loved Walter,--I can see you did; and you sent
him off on my account. It is just too bad! Of all the men I ever knew,
he was the one I should have been best pleased to have you marry!"

"It was not wholly on your account, John. You know there was our
father," said Grace.

"Yes, yes, Gracie; but he would have preferred to see you well
married. He would not have been so selfish, nor I either. It is your
self-abnegation, you dear over-good women, that makes us men seem
selfish. We should be as good as you are, if you would give us the
chance. I think, Gracie, though you're not aware of it, there is a
spice of Pharisaism in the way in which you good girls allow us men
to swallow you up without ever telling us what you are doing. I often
wondered about your intimacy with Sydenham, and why it never came to
any thing; and I can but half forgive you. How selfish I must have
seemed!"

"Oh, no, John! indeed not."

"Co