mine."

"I am no enemy of yours, nor of any man, I hope. May I ask you one
question, without offense?"

"Certainly."

"Have you prayed to God to guide you in this difficulty?"

"No."

"Then seek his throne without delay; and, until you have done so, do not
rashly condemn my views of this matter, since I have sought for wisdom
where alone it is to be found."

Henry chafed under this; but he commanded his temper, though with
difficulty, and said, "Will you take a line to her from me?"

The Sister hesitated. "I don't know whether I ought," said she.

"Oh, then the old game of intercepting letters is to be played."

"Not by me: after prayer I shall be able to say Yes or No to your
request. At present, being at a distance from my Superior, I must needs
hesitate."

"Right and wrong must have made very little impression on your mind, if
you don't know whether you ought to take a letter to a woman from a man
who has just saved her life--or not."

The lady colored highly, courtesied, and retired without a word.

Little knew enough of human nature to see that the Sister would not pray
against feminine spite; he had now a dangerous enemy in the house, and
foresaw that Grace would be steadily worked on through her religious
sentiments.

He went away, sick with disappointment, jealousy, and misgivings, hired
a carriage, and drove at once to Raby Hall.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

Mrs. Little saw her son arrive, met him in the hall, and embraced him,
with a great cry of maternal joy, that did his heart good for a moment.

He had to tell her all; and, during the recital, she often clasped him
to her bosom.

When he had told her all, she said: "Much as I love you, darling, I am
ready to part with you for good: there is a cure for all your griefs;
there is a better woman in this house than ever Grace Carden was or will
be. Be a man; shake off these miserable trammels; leave that vacillating
girl to nurse her villain, and marry the one I have chosen for you."

Henry shook his head. "What! when a few months perhaps will free my
Grace from her incumbrance. Mother, you are giving me bad advice for
once."

"Unwelcome advice, dear, not bad. Will you consult Dr. Amboyne? he
sleeps here to-night. He often comes here now, you know." Then the widow
colored just a little.

"Oh yes, I know; and I approve."

Dr. Amboyne came to dinner. In the course of the evening he mentioned
his patient Coventry, and said he would never wa