"Oh no, Mr. Fitzpiers," said Grace, earnestly. "It is not so at all.

I know from seeing your light at night how deeply you meditate and

work. Instead of condemning you for your studies, I admire you very

much!"

Her face, upturned from the microscope, was so sweet, sincere, and

self-forgetful in its aspect that the susceptible Fitzpiers more than

wished to annihilate the lineal yard which separated it from his own.

Whether anything of the kind showed in his eyes or not, Grace remained

no longer at the microscope, but quickly went her way into the rain.




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