Chapter 28 - Page 2

precise state of the case be known,
since it might bring a swarm of interested fortune-hunters about the
dear girl, and has proposed that we rather favour the notion the
estate is to be divided among us. This I cannot do directly, you will
perceive, as it would be deception; but one may be silent. With you,
however, it is a different matter, and so I tell you the truth at
once. I am made executor, and act, of course; and this makes me the
more glad to see you, for I find so much business with pounds,
shillings and pence draws my mind off from the duties of my holy
office, and that I am in danger of becoming selfish and mercenary. A
selfish priest, Miles, is as odious a thing as a mercenary woman!"

"Little danger of your ever becoming anything so worldly, my dear
sir. But Grace-you have not mentioned my beloved sister?"

I saw Mr. Hardinge's countenance suddenly change. The expression of
joy instantly deserted it, and it wore an air of uncertainty and
sadness. A less observant man than the good divine, in all the
ordinary concerns of life, did not exist; but it was apparent that he
now saw something to trouble him.

"Yes, Grace," he answered, doubtingly; "the dear girl is here, and all
alone, and not as blithe and amusing as formerly. I am glad of your
return on her account, too, Miles. She is not well, I fear; I would
have sent for a physician last week, or the moment I saw her; but she
insists on it, there is no need of one. She is frightfully beautiful,
Miles! You know how it is with Grace--her countenance always seemed
more fitted for heaven than earth; and now it always reminds me of a
seraph's that was grieving over the sins of men!"

"I fear, sir, that Rupert's account, then, is true, and that Grace is
seriously ill?"

"I hope not, boy--I fervently pray not! She is not as
usual--_that_ is true; but her mind, her thoughts, all her
inclinations, and, if I may so express it, her energies, seem turned
to heaven. There has been an awakening in the spirit of Grace, that is
truly wonderful. She reads devout books, meditates, and, I make no
doubt, prays, from morn till night. This is the secret of her
withdrawal from the world, and her refusing of all Lucy's
invitations. You know how the girls love each other--but Grace
declines going to Lucy, though she knows that Lucy cannot come to
her."

I now understood it all. A weight like that of a mountain fell upon my
heart, and I walked on some distance without speaking. To me, the
words of my excellent guardian sounded like the knell of a sister I
almost worshipped.

"And Grace--does she expect me, now?" I at length ventured to say,
though the words were