Mrs. Little wrote her letter, and showed it to Jael: 

“Dear miss Carden,—­They tell me you are about to be married.  Can this be true, and Henry Little alive?”

An answer came back, in due course.

“Dear Mrs. Little,—­It is true, and I am miserable.  Forgive me, and forget me.”

Mrs. Little discovered the marks of tears upon the paper, and was sorely puzzled.

She sat silent a long time:  then looking up, she saw Jael Dence gazing at her with moist eyes, and an angelic look of anxiety and affection.

She caught her round the neck, and kissed her, almost passionately.

“All the better,” she cried, struggling with a sob.  “I shall have my own way for once.  You shall be my daughter instead.”

Jael returned her embrace with ardor, but in silence, and with averted head.

When Jael Dence heard that Grace Carden was in Hillsborough, she felt very much drawn to go and see her:  but she knew the meeting must be a sad one to them both; and that made her put it off till the very day before the wedding.  Then, thinking it would be too unkind if she held entirely aloof, and being, in truth, rather curious to know whether Grace had really been able to transfer her affections in so short a time, she asked Mr. Raby’s leave, and drove one of the ponies in to Woodbine Villa.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

The short interval previous to the wedding-day passed, to all appearance, as that period generally does.  Settlements were drawn, and only awaited signature.  The bride seemed occupied with dress, and receiving visits and presents, and reading and writing letters of that sort which ought to be done by machinery.

The bridegroom hovered about the house, running in and out on this or that pretext.

She received his presence graciously, read him the letters of her female friends, and forced herself to wear a look of languid complacency, especially before others.

Under all this routine she had paroxysms of secret misery, and he was in tortures.

These continued until the eve of the wedding, and then he breathed freely.  No letter had come from the United States, and to-morrow was the wedding-day.  The chances were six to one no letter came that day, and, even if one should, he had now an excuse ready for keeping Lally on the premises that particular morning.  At one o’clock he would be flying south with his bride.

He left the villa to dress for dinner.  During this interval Jael Dence called.

The housemaid knocked at Grace’s door—­she was dressing—­and told her Jael wished to see her.

Grace was surprised, and much disturbed.  It flashed on her in a moment that this true and constant lover of Henry Little had come to enjoy her superiority.  She herself had greatly desired this meeting once, but now it could only serve to mortify her.  The very thought that this young woman was near her set her trembling; but she forced herself to appear calm, and, turning to her maid, said, “Tell her I can see no one to-day.”