CHAPTER XXVII.
"Let me not dwell so much within
My bounded heart with anxious heed,
Where all my searches meet with doubt,
And nothing satisfies my need;
It shuts me from the sound and sight
Of that pure world of life and light
Which has no breadth, or length, or height."
—A. L. Waring.
Kate had long ago become accustomed to these uncertain movements of Grace, and was therefore not alarmed at her prolonged absence. She sat in a cozy chair, reading the last letter from Mrs. Hayden, when Grace entered.
"What makes you look so sober, Gracious?" she asked, tenderly, after the hat and sketch book were laid aside and they had settled themselves for their usual chat.
"Oh, Kate, I had a lovely time to-day, with all the beautiful sights out in the country; I wish you could see how much more there is in nature since we have studied Christian Healing," was the evasive reply.
"I think we see more in everything," said Kate, whose curiosity was rather piqued by the evasiveness, though she made no sign, "because everything stands for something. It is like the x in algebra, and interesting as the unknown quantity."
Grace smiled a little. She was thinking of a different kind of "unknown quantity."
"Don't you want to hear Mrs. Hayden's letter?" asked Kate, wondering more and more over the distrait manner and dreamy absorption of her friend.
"The letter, why, of course; where is it?"
"Here; shall I read it?"