When the question of her own future came up before her, she was perplexed, and with reason. Save Mrs. Sheldon, she had no near relatives, and she did not feel inclined to set up an independent establishment for herself, and live alone—that is, until she should marry. At present there was no prospect of marriage. Of suitors who had offered themselves there was no lack, but on none of them did she for a moment seriously think. So far as they were concerned she was heart-whole. Had she never met one to whom she could fancy herself happily united? If so, she had not admitted it even to herself.
On the day after the conversation with her aunt, she was sitting idly at her desk, her mind occupied by the embarrassments of her position, when the servant entered the room.
"Miss Grace," she said, "there is a lady in the parlor who wishes to see you."
"A lady? Who is it? Did she give you her card?"
"No, Miss Grace."
"Did you ever see her before?"
"She has never been here before. I think, Miss Grace," added the girl, hesitating, "that it is some one in trouble."
"What makes you think so, Jane?"
"Because she looks so sad."
"Does she seem like a poor woman?"