lower tone
and with a half-embarrassed smile, "that when I saw you just now in the
garden, you looked as I imagined you might have looked in the first days
of your widowhood--when your husband's death was fresh in your heart."

A strange expression crossed her face. Her eyelids dropped instantly,
and with both hands she caught up her frilled apron as if to meet
them and covered her face. A little shudder seemed to pass over
her shoulders, and then a cry that ended in an uncontrollable and
half-hysterical laugh followed from the depths of that apron, until
shaking her sides, and with her head still enveloped in its covering,
she fairly ran into the inner room and closed the door behind her.

Amazed, shocked, and at first indignant, Dr. Blair remained fixed to
the spot. Then his indignation gave way to a burning mortification as he
recalled his speech. He had made a frightful faux pas! He had been fool
enough to try to recall the most sacred memories of that dead husband
he was trying to succeed--and her quick woman's wit had detected his
ridiculous stupidity. Her laugh was hysterical--but that was only
natural in her mixed emotions. He mounted his horse in confusion and
rode away.

For a few days he avoided the house. But when he next saw her she had
a charming smile of greeting and an air of entire obliviousness of his
past blunder. She said she was better. She had taken his advice and
was giving herself some relaxation from business. She had been riding
again--oh, so far! Alone?--of course; she was always alone--else what
would Laurel Spring say?

"True," said Blair smilingly; "besides, I forgot that you are quite able
to take care of yourself in an emergency. And yet," he added, admiringly
looking at her lithe figure and indolent grace, "do you know I never can
associate you with the dreadful scenes they say you have gone through."

"Then please don't!" she said quickly; "really, I'd rather you wouldn't.
I'm sick and tired of hearing of it!" She was half laughing and yet half
in earnest, with a slight color on her cheek.

Blair was a little embarrassed. "Of course, I don't mean your
heroism--like that story of the intruder and the scissors," he
stammered.

"Oh, THAT'S the worst of all! It's too foolish--it's sickening!" she
went on almost angrily. "I don't know who started that stuff." She
paused, and then added shyly, "I really am an awful coward and horribly
nervous--as you know."

He would have combated t