ng mystery during the
weeks that ensued. There were few opportunities of being alone together,
and Flora shrank from such as they were--nay, she checked all expression
of solicitude, and made her very kisses rapid and formal.

The sorrow that had fallen on the Grange seemed to have changed none of
the usual habits there--visiting, riding, driving, dinners, and music,
went on with little check. Flora was sure to be found the animated,
attentive lady of the house, or else sharing her husband's pursuits,
helping him with his business, or assisting him in seeking pleasure,
spending whole afternoons at the coachmaker's over a carriage that they
were building, and, it was reported, playing ecarte in the evening.

Had grief come to be forgotten and cast aside without effecting any
mission? Yet Ethel could not believe that the presence of the awful
messenger was unfelt, when she heard poor George's heavy sigh, or when
she looked at Flora's countenance, and heard the peculiar low, subdued
tone of her voice, which, when her words were most cheerful, always
seemed to Ethel the resigned accent of despair.

Ethel could not talk her over with Margaret, for all seemed to make it
a point that Margaret should believe the best. Dr. May turned from the
subject with a sort of shuddering grief, and said, "Don't talk of her,
poor child--only pray for her!"

Ethel, though shocked by the unwonted manner of his answer, was somewhat
consoled by perceiving that a double measure of tenderness had sprung
up between her father and his poor daughter. If Flora had seemed, in her
girlhood, to rate him almost cheaply, this was at an end now; she met
him as if his embrace were peace, the gloom was lightened, the attention
less strained, when he was beside her, and she could not part with him
without pressing for a speedy meeting. Yet she treated him with the same
reserve; since that one ghastly revelation of the secrets of her heart,
the veil had been closely drawn, and he could not guess whether it had
been but a horrible thought, or were still an abiding impression. Ethel
could gather no more than that her father was very unhappy about Flora,
and that Richard understood why; for Richard had told her that he had
written to Flora, to try to persuade her to cease from this reserve, but
that he had no reply.

Norman was not at home; he had undertaken the tutorship of two
schoolboys for the holidays; and his father owned, with a sigh, that he
was doing