the abode of his lost love. He went to the hotel, and hired a fly to take
him to Crosber, where he left the vehicle at the old inn, preferring to
walk on to the Grange. It was a bright November day, with a pale yellow
sunlight shining on the level fields, and distant hills that rose beyond
them crowned with a scanty fringe of firs, that stood out black and sharp
against the clear autumn sky. It was a cheerful day, and a solitary bird
was singing here and there, as if beguiled by that pleasant warmth and
sunshine into the fond belief that winter was still far off and the glory
of fields and woods not yet departed. Gilbert's spirits rose in some
degree under the influence of that late brightness and sweet rustic calm.
He fancied that there might be still some kind of happiness for him in
the long years to come; pale and faint like the sunlight of to-day--an
autumnal calm. If he might be Marian's friend and brother, her devoted
counsellor, her untiring servant, it seemed to him that he could be
content, that he could live on from year to year moderately happy in the
occasional delight of her society; rewarded for his devotion by a few
kind words now and then,--a letter, a friendly smile,--rewarded still
more richly by her perfect trust in him.

These thoughts were in his mind to-day as he went along the lonely
country lane leading to the Grange; thoughts which seemed inspired by the
tranquil landscape and peaceful autumn day; thoughts which were full of
the purest love and charity,--yes, even for his unknown rival, even if
that rival should prove to be the one man in all this world from whom a
deep wrong would seem most bitter.

"What am I, that I should measure the force of his temptation," he said
to himself, "or the strength of his resistance? Let me be sure that he
loves my darling as truly as I love her, that the chief object of his
life has been and will be her happiness, and then let me put away all
selfish vindictive thoughts, and fall quietly into the background of my
dear one's life, content to be her brother and her friend."

The Grange looked unchanged in its sombre lonely aspect. The
chrysanthemums were all withered by this time, and there were now no
flowers in the old-fashioned garden. The bell was answered by the same
woman who had admitted him before, and who made no parley about letting
him in this time.

"My young missus said I was to be sure and let her know if you came,
sir," she said; "she's very