t out crying and ran past her.

Grace told her father, and asked him to find out what was the matter
with Mr. Coventry.

Mr. Carden followed Coventry to the station, and Coventry, who had now
recovered his self-possession and his cunning, told him that for some
time Miss Carden had worn a cheerful air, which had given him hopes; but
this morning, watching her from a bower in the garden, he had seen such
misery in her face that it had quite upset him; and he was going away to
try and recover that composure, without which he felt he would be no use
to her in any way.

This tale Carden brought back to his daughter, and she was touched by
it. "Poor Mr. Coventry!" said she. "Why does he waste so much love on
me?"

Her father, finding her thus softened, pleaded hard for his friend,
and reminded Grace that she had not used him well. She admitted that at
once, and went so far as to say that she felt bound never to marry
any one but Mr. Coventry, unless time should cure him, as she hoped it
would, of his unfortunate attachment.

From this concession Mr. Carden urged her daily to another, viz., that
Mr. Coventry might be permitted to try and win her affection.

Her answer was, "He had much better content himself with what I can and
do give him--my esteem and gratitude and sincere pity."

Mr. Carden, however, persisted, and the deep affection he had shown
his daughter gave him great power. It was two against one; and the two
prevailed.

Mr. Coventry began to spend his whole time at Eastbank Cottage.

He followed Grace about with a devotion to which no female heart could
be entirely insensible; and, at last, she got used to him, and rather
liked to have him about her. He broke her solitude as a dog does, and he
fetched and carried for her, and talked when she was inclined to listen,
and was silent when he saw his voice jarred upon her bereaved heart.

Without her father, matters might have gone on so for years; but Mr.
Carden had now so many motives for marrying his daughter to Coventry,
that he used all his judgment and all his influence. He worked on his
daughter's pride, her affection, her sense of honor, and her sense of
duty.

She struggled, she sighed, she wept; but, by little and little, she
submitted. And, since three months more passed with no striking event,
I will deviate from my usual custom and speak a little of what passed in
her mind.

First of all, then, she was so completely deceived by appearances,