smallest portion of this decision originated in the fact that Christian,
wholly preoccupied as she was, quitted it without taking any notice of
her--Phillis--at all.

Dr. Grey preceded his wife to a room, which, in the long labyrinth of
apartments, seemed almost a quarter of a mile away. A large fire burnt
on the old-fashioned hearth, and glimmered cheerily on the white toilet-
table, crimson sofa, and bed. It was a room comfortable, elegant,
pleasant, bright, thoroughly "my lady's chamber," and which seemed
from every nook to welcome its new owner with a smile.

"Oh, how pretty!" exclaimed Christian, involuntarily. She was not
luxurious, yet she dearly loved pretty things; the more so, because she
had never possessed them. Even now, though her heart was so moved
and full, she was not insensible to the warmth imparted to it by mere
external pleasantnesses like these.

"I had the room newly furnished. I thought you would like it," said Dr.
Grey.

"I do like it. How very kind you are to me!"

Kind--only kind!

She looked around the room, and there, in one corner, just as if she had
never parted from them, were all the old treasures of her maidenhood--
desk, work-table, chair. She guessed all the secret. Once, perhaps, she
might have burst into tears--heart-warm tears; now she only sighed.

"Oh, how good you are!"