In Grace's heart
the olden love for Richard had not died out, and hitherto, it had
been some consolation to believe that no other ear would ever
listen to the words of love, to remember which continually would
assuredly drive her mad. But matters now were changed. Day by day,
week by week, month by month, and year by year, a rose had been
unfolding itself at Collingswood, and with every opening petal had
grown more and more precious to the blind man, until more than one
crone foretold the end; and Grace Atherton, grown fonder of gossip
than she was wont to be, listened to the tale, and watched, and
wondered, and wept, and still caressed and loved the bright,
beautiful girl, whom she dreaded as a powerful rival. This it was
which prompted her to speak of Richard's disappointment; and when
she saw the effect produced upon Edith, it emboldened her to go
on, and tell how, years and years ago, when Richard Harrington
first went to Europe, be had sued for the hand of a young girl
whom he met there, and who, while loving him dearly, shrank from
walking in his shadow, and gave herself to another.
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