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 anadded lustre to her beautiful eyes, and the faintest wild-rose tint inher cheeks made her a fit study for any artist.
She looks like Psyche just awakened. Can it be possible, that with allher charms, she was sleeping, before to-day? he thought as he took hisseat beside her, thrilled with new hope.
He drove into one of the broad, quiet avenues that led out of the cityand 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 riverover which lay the "Glen" road.
"I have been wishing I might go there, before the leaves fell, and thisis exactly what I enjoy," replied Grace, looking out over the scenebefore her with a keen pleasure.
"Perhaps this is an answer to your wish. Sometimes I think our wishesare answered because of their intensity," said Mr. Carrington, lookingmeaningly into her face.
"George Eliot says: 'The very intensity keeps them from beinganswered.'" What gave him the sudden, triumphant certainty that he couldbide his time? She had lost all her haughtiness, apparently. He hadnever seen her in the mood of to-day.
"_Apropos_ of wishes," he resumed, "which are properly thoughts, I havetwo friends in Boston, who can communicate with each other, no matterhow far apart they may be. They call it the power of thought."
"Yes, thought transference. I am quite interested and fully believe it,"said Grace, glad to have the opportunity of sounding him on this andkindred themes.
He glanced at her in polite surprise. "Indeed," he said, "are youacquainted with the subject?"
"Somewhat; I have seen enough to know it is founded on law," shereplied, briefly.
"What law?" he asked, wonderingly, with a slight smile of incredulitylighting his face.
"Mental law, of course."
She then went on to explain to him something of her study of mentalhealing. At first he was rather skeptical, but on seeing herseriousness, he very soon grew sober and gave the most respectful andapparently absorbed attention. By the time she finished, he was reallyinterested.
"I have often thought that some day there would be more light upon thephilosophy of thought, but I was not aware it was so close upon us," hefinally said.
"It is certainly much needed now," she replied, looking dreamily at thewhite clouds floating in the bits of blue above the trees. She wasthinking how much it had been worth to her in her trial last night. Henoticed the far-away look and wished he might know her thoughts.
What would have been his surprise, could he have been told at thismoment how much he was already indebted to Christian Science? for had itnot softened the cruel pride that had so encrusted her before? He knewnothing of this. He perceived a change in her manner and even charactersince he last saw her two years before, although even then his greatlove had been able to condone all weaknesses, or what others would callweaknesses. To him they were part of her lovableness.
When she so coldly rejected him, unlike most men, he had determined towait patiently for her indifference to turn into reciprocation. He hadrecognized but one thing, the simple, supreme fact that he loved GraceHall. In regard to her, there was and never could be any other thought.Inspired with such love as this, such sublime patience, such infinitehope, is it any wonder he looked into her eyes and read a hint ofvictory?
The time was drawing near. His two years of waiting surely gave himliberty to ask, and the right to receive.... As for that, love, suchlove as his, had royal rights and it would win its own way when themoment came. He would approach the subject gradually, talking about hiscoming departure, although he had mentioned that in his note, had evendared to tell her this must be his excuse for requesting an answersooner than she wished to give it.
"Oh, what a lovely group of colors!" exclaimed Grace, involuntarily,pointing to a tree decked in the most gorgeous foliage.
"Shall I get some leaves for you?" he asked, anticipating her desire,and descended from the carriage.
Presently he returned, with his hands full of small branches. "They arelovely hues. Is there not something else you would like? I saw somebeautiful ferns over yonder," he said, pointing to the spot.
"Will we have time? I _would_ like to get out," she exclaimed eagerly.
"Time! 'There's time for all things,' Shakespeare says," laughed Mr.Carrington, as he assisted her to alight.
Grace was in her element amid the speaking grandeur of Nature's hills.
"Have you a sharp pencil, Mr. Carrington? I seem to have lost the one Ialways carry with me, and that grand oak tree I must have as a model."
He quickly sharpened one and gave it to her.
How beautiful she looked! He delighted to watch every movement of thedeft fingers, to study every expression of the beautiful eyes and mobilemouth. He revelled in her beauty, because to him she was thepersonification of all that was lovely and noble and great. Hercharacter he would have loved just as much had she been plain instead ofbeautiful, for his ideal was the inward, not the outward beauty, exceptas the two blended into one, as they did with her.
"You seem to be partial to the oak, Miss Hall. Is there any reason forit?"
"Yes, I am. It is a grand symbol of strength and firmness of character,"she replied, still sketching rapidly. "I like to paint trees, for theyexpress so much. Some show such kindly benevolence, with their broad,spreading branches and friendly shade, some are so graceful, with theirtall trunks and delicately veined leaves, as though showing a fine,tender nature; while others are stunted and rough, with coarse, thickfoliage. I place each one as to character and station, and they teach memany beautiful lessons."
"And they will teach me many after this, Miss Grace."
He wanted to say something more, but she was so innocently unconsciousof anything but her work that he must wait for a better opportunity.
Having finished her sketch, Grace looked up. The self-consciousness thathad scarcely left her, save these past few moments, now returned withpainful suddenness. Her eyes met his, and a vivid flush overspread herface, but she said nothing.
"Shall we go?" he asked, holding out his hand to assist her. His eyesexpressed the question his lips could not frame, but she did not seethem. They went to the carriage in silence.
The road presently left the woods and turned into a broad country lane.Both had forgotten the proposed trip to "The Glen," but it made nodifference. At last the undercurrent of feeling had burst through allreserves.
Mr. Carrington awaited the final answer, and what did she say?
It was the sacred page in a maiden's life that is read but once.
* * * * *
Grace had found in her lover a man who was broadminded and liberalenough to fairly consider these matters from a woman's standpoint. Theyfreely discussed a married woman's rights and privileges, and bothagreed that a wife should have an individuality after marriage as wellas before. "I desired to express myself on this point before, my dearGrace," said Mr. Carrington, "because to my mind it is a mutual life,and should be a mutual development."
"It is, indeed. I have never looked at it in the right way, till thelast few weeks. I used to feel that marriage was degrading rather thanelevating, because it seemed as though a woman had to give up so muchthat really belonged to her, her name, her property, her freedom as anindividual. But now I see that true marriage should bring freedom in thefullest sense of the word."
"In love there is no bondage," he replied, admiring her independentthought.
"Yes, but the world has a faint conception of love, the love that savesto the uttermost, and endures
forever," said Grace.
"With such love there would be no danger of marriage degrading theindividual, no need of divorce."
He spoke strongly for he felt strongly. Any one speaking from the depthsof a heart-conviction, speaks with authority.
"The world needs to be lifted to a higher standard on these matters. Thesubject of marriage is too sacred to jest about, and people in generalthink it no harm to toy with the word and all that pertains to it withthe utmost carelessness."
Grace was more like herself now. She was very happy in the thought thatMr. Carrington understood this as she did, but she was not a littlesurprised to find herself giving such free expression to her opinions.
"Indifference and laxity is the result of the trifling. My theory isthat these things should be sacredly spoken of in the family, when boysand girls are growing up. That is the way my mother did," said Mr.Carrington reverently.
"Yes, the family is more responsible than society, for it makessociety," she replied, secretly touched by the allusion to his mother.
She felt more and more confidence in Mr. Carrington. It seemedsurprising to find how rapidly her love for him had increased since shegave it permission to grow. She did not realize that it had been asmothered plant before, trying to live without sunshine. Now it couldgrow in the warmth and brightness of beautiful day.
It was early twilight when they returned. Kate was waiting for her. Thejoyous light in Grace's eyes, though she tried to veil it, told thestory. Kate put her arms about her, saying, as she caressed the rosycheek:
"Lilybell is bloomed at last."
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