"
"Know him!" repeated Grace, when at last she was alone. "Just as
if I had not known him to my sorrow. Oh, Richard, Richard! maybe
you'd forgive me if you knew what I have suffered," and the proud,
beautiful eyes filled with tears as Grace Atherton plucked the
broad green leaves from the grape vine over her head, and tearing
them in pieces scattered the fragments upon the floor of the
piazza. "Was there to be a bride at Collingwood?" This was the
question which racked her brain, keeping her in a constant state
of feverish excitement until the very morning came when the family
were expected.
Mrs. Matson, the former housekeeper, had resumed her old position,
and though she came often to Brier Hill to consult the taste of
Mrs. Atherton as to the arrangement of curtains and furniture,
Grace was too haughtily polite to question her, and every car
whistle found her at the window watching for the carriage and a
sight of its inmates. One after another the western trains
arrived, and the soft September twilight deepened into darker
night, showing to the expectant Grace the numerous lights shining
from the windows of Collingwood.
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