"Grace's own friend,—Henry Grantly."

"Grace, come here, that I may kiss you and bless you," he said, very solemnly. "It would seem that the world is going to be very good to you."

"Papa, you must read this letter first."

"Before I kiss my own darling?" Then she knelt at his feet. "I see," he said, taking the letter; "it is from your lover's father. Peradventure he signifies his consent, which would be surely needful before such a marriage would be seemly."

"Peradventure he signifies his Consent."
Click to [ENLARGE]

"It isn't about me, papa, at all."

"Not about you? If so, that would be most unpromising. But, in any case, you are my best darling." Then he kissed her and blessed her, and slowly opened the letter. His wife had now come close to him, and was standing over him, touching him, so that she also could read the archdeacon's letter. Grace, who was still in front of him, could see the working of his face as he read it; but even she could not tell whether he was gratified, or offended, or dismayed. When he had got as far as the first offer of the presentation, he ceased reading for a while, and looked round about the room as though lost in thought. "Let me see what further he writes to me," he then said; and after that he continued the letter slowly to the end. "Nay, my child, you were in error in saying that he wrote not about you. 'Tis in writing of you he has put some real heart into his words. He writes as though his home would be welcome to you."

"And does he not make St. Ewolds welcome to you, papa?"

"He makes me welcome to accept it,—if I may use the word after the ordinary and somewhat faulty parlance of mankind."