At least, there was some deep and pure confidence between them; and yet one which, so perfect was Grace's humility, did not make old Jane jealous.

Grace cooked, swept, washed, went to and fro as Jane bade her; submitted to all her grumblings and tossings; and then came at the old man's bidding to read to him every evening, her hand in his; her voice cheerful, her face full of quiet light.

But her hair was becoming streaked with gray.

Her face, howsoever gentle, was sharpened, as if with continual pain.

No wonder; for she had worn that belt next her heart for now two years and more, till it had almost eaten into the heart above which it lay.