The permission, thus limited, was conveyed to Mr. Coventry by his friend Carden; but he showed no hurry to take advantage of it; and, as for Grace, she forgot she had given it.

But this coolness of Coventry’s was merely apparent.  He was only awaiting the arrival of Patrick Lally from Ireland.  This Lally was an old and confidential servant, who had served him formerly in many intrigues, and with whom he had parted reluctantly some months ago, and allowed him a small pension for past services.  He dared not leave the villa in charge of any person less devoted to him than this Lally.

The man arrived at last, received minute instructions, and then Mr. Coventry went to Eastbank.

He found what seemed the ghost of Grace Carden lying on the sofa, looking on the sea.

At the sight of her he started back in dismay.

“What have I done?”

Those strange words fell from him before he knew what he was saying.

Grace heard them, but did not take the trouble to inquire into their meaning.  She said, doggedly, “I am alive, you see.  Nothing kills.  It is wonderful:  we die of a fall, of a blow, of swallowing a pin; yet I am alive.  But never mind me; you look unwell yourself.  What is the matter?”

“Can you ask me?”

At this, which implied that her illness was the cause of his, she turned her head away from him with weariness and disgust, and looked at the sea, and thought of the dead.

Coventry sat speechless, and eyed her silent figure with miserable devotion.  He was by her side once more, and no rival near.  He set himself to study all her moods, and began by being inoffensive to her; in time he might be something more.

He spent four days in Eastbank, and never uttered a word of love; but his soft soothing voice was ever in her ear, and won her attention now and then; not often.

When he left her, she did not ask him to come again.

Her father did, though, and told him to be patient; better days were in store.  “Give her time,” said he, “and, a month or two hence, if you have the same feeling for her you used to have—­”

“I love her more than ever.  I worship her—­”

“Then you will have me on your side, stronger than ever.  But you must give her time.”

And now Coventry had an ally far more powerful than himself—­an ally at once zealous and judicious.  Mr. Carden contented himself at first with praising him in general terms; next he affected to laugh at him for renting the villa, merely to be in the place which Grace had occupied.  Then Grace defended him.  “Don’t laugh at an honest love.  Pity it.  It is all we can do, and the least we can do.”

But when he advanced further, and began to remind his daughter she had once given this gentleman hopes, and all but engaged herself to him, she drew back with fear and repugnance, and said, “If he can not forget that, pray let him never come near me again.”