CHAPTER XXXIII.
"Comfort our souls with love,
Love of all human kind;
Love special, close in which, like sheltered dove,
Each weary heart its own safe nest may find;
And love that turns above
Adoringly; contented to resign
All loves, if need be, for the love divine."
—D. M. Mulock Craik.
Grace looked very lovely, as she stepped into the carriage, when Mr. Carrington called for her. A suggestion of reserved feeling gave an added lustre to her beautiful eyes, and the faintest wild-rose tint in her cheeks made her a fit study for any artist.
She looks like Psyche just awakened. Can it be possible, that with all her charms, she was sleeping, before to-day? he thought as he took his seat beside her, thrilled with new hope.
He drove into one of the broad, quiet avenues that led out of the city and into a country road. "I thought you would like to visit 'The Glen,' and see its autumn dress," he said, as they came in view of the river over which lay the "Glen" road.
"I have been wishing I might go there, before the leaves fell, and this is exactly what I enjoy," replied Grace, looking out over the scene before her with a keen pleasure.
"Perhaps this is an answer to your wish. Sometimes I think our wishes are answered because of their intensity," said Mr. Carrington, looking meaningly into her face.
"George Eliot says: 'The very intensity keeps them from being answered.'" What gave him the sudden, triumphant certainty that he could bide his time? She had lost all her haughtiness, apparently. He had never seen her in the mood of to-day.