"Give me the privilege of your friendship till you think me worthy of a dearer bond, and I will protect you from all the errors of unworldliness. I would not have you one jot more of a worldling than you are. I have worldly wisdom enough for both of us—the wisdom of Mayfair and Belgravia, which the angels call folly."
He took her to her carriage, but he did not ask to be allowed to call upon her.
"I shall be leaving town shortly," he said, "but I hope we may meet in the autumn."
"Are you going abroad?"
"I think so, but I have not determined the direction. I will write to you from—wherever I am—if you will allow me."
"I shall be pleased to hear from you," she answered gently. "I am very glad we are friends again."
On this they clasped hands and parted, lovers half avowed.
Grace went home radiant. She had always liked him. It might be that she had always loved him. His coldness had cut her to the heart, yet now that he was at her feet again, she respected him for having held himself aloof while there was a shadow of doubt in his mind. The fortune-hunter would have taken advantage of her isolation, and pursued her all the more ardently while she was under a cloud. And she was touched by his surrendering at once to her personal influence, to the eyes and voice that he loved. He could not meet her face to face, and go on doubting her.
CHAPTER VIII.