in's eyes turned inquiringly to Constance.

"It should have been more consistent with its ancient dimensions," said
she; "but then it would have taken half our lives to have built it."

"But this must have been the work of years."

"It was."

"And your work, Constance?"

"For you."

"And it was for this that you hesitated when I asked you to consent to
raising the money for the purchase of Lord ----'s collection?"

"Yes;--am I forgiven?"

"Dearest Constance," said Godolphin, flinging his arms around her,
"how have I wronged you! During those very years, then, of our
estrangement--during those very years in which I thought you
indifferent, you were silently preparing this noble revenge on the
injury I did you. Why, why did I not know this before? Why did you not
save us both from so long a misunderstanding of each other?"

"Dearest Percy, I was to blame; but I always looked to this hour as to a
pleasure of which I could not bear to rob myself. I always fancied that
when this task was finished, and you could witness it, you would feel
how uppermost you always were in my thoughts, and forgive me many faults
from that consideration. I knew that I was executing your father's
great wish; I knew that you always, although unconsciously, perhaps,
sympathised in that wish. I only grieve that, as yet, it has been
executed so imperfectly."

"But how," continued Godolphin, gazing on the new pile as they now
neared the entrance, "how was it this never reached my ears through
other quarters?"

"But it did, Percy; don't you remember our country neighbour, Dartmour,
complimenting you on your intended improvements, and you fancied it was
irony, and turned your back on the discomfited squire?"

They now drove under the gates surmounted with Godolphin's arms; and in
a few minutes more, they were within the renovated halls of the Priory.

Perhaps it was impossible for Constance to have more sensibly touched
and flattered Godolphin than by this surprise; it affected him far
more than the political concession which to her had been so profound a
sacrifice; for his early poverty had produced in him somewhat of that
ancestral pride which the poor only can gracefully wear; and although
the tie between his father and himself had not possessed much
endearment, yet he had often, with the generosity that belonged to
him, regretted that his parent had not survived to share in his present
wealth, and to devote some portion of it to the