It seemed, all through the day, that Grace could not do enough for the old man’s comfort.  Once she drew him into her room, as he was passing her door, to show him some pictures that she had painted.  As he sat looking at them, he noticed a small, handsomely bound Bible on her table.  Taking it up, he said—­

“Do you read this, Grace?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied, “every day.”  And there was such a light of goodness in her eyes, as she looked up into his face, that Mr. Archer felt, for a moment or two, as if the countenance of an angel was before him.

“Why do you read it?” he continued after a pause.

“It teaches us the way to heaven,” said Grace.

“And you are trying to live for heaven?”

“I try to shun all evil as sin.  Can I do more?”

All the minister’s creeds, and doctrines, and confessions of faith, which he had ever considered the foundations upon which Christian life was to be built, seemed, for a moment or two, useless lumber before the simple creed of this loving, pure-hearted maiden.  To seek to disturb this state of innocence and obedience by moody polemics, he felt, instinctively, to be wrong.

“Perhaps not,” was his half abstracted reply; “perhaps not.  Yes, yes; shun what is evil, and the Lord will adjoin the good.”

“Yes, yes; she is a good girl, as her mother says,” was frequently repeated by Uncle Archer during the day, when he would think of Grace.

Evening came, and young and old began to gather in the parlours.  The minister was introduced to one and another, as they arrived, and was much gratified with the respect and attention shown to him by all.  Grace soon drew around him three or four of her young friends, who listened to what he had to say with an interest that gratified his feelings.  Nothing had been said to Grace of her uncle’s prejudice against dancing; she was, therefore, no little surprised to see the sudden change in his manner, when she said to a young lady in the group around him—­

“Come! you must play some cotillions for us.  We’re going to have a dance.”

After going with the young lady to the piano, and opening it for her, Grace went back to her uncle, whose face she found deeply clouded.

“A’n’t you well, uncle?” she asked, affectionately.

“Oh yes, child, I am well enough in body,” was replied.

“But something troubles you, uncle—­what is it?”

By this time a number of couples were on the floor, and at the moment, a young man came up to Grace, and said—­

“Shall I have the pleasure of dancing with you this evening?”

“Not in the first set,” replied Grace; “but I will consider myself engaged for the second, unless you can find a more agreeable partner.”

“Do you dance, then?” asked Uncle Arthur, gravely, after the young man had turned away.

“Dance?” Grace was in doubt whether she had clearly understood him.