hanged, the General was useful in
handling cups, and a number of faces unknown to me came and went, some
of them elderly ones whom I had seen in church, or passed while walking;
the black dresses of age mingled with the brighter colors of youth; and
on her bench behind the cups sat Hortense, or rose up at right moments,
radiant, restrained and adequate, receiving with deferential attention
the remarks of some dark-clothed elder, or, with sufficiently interested
countenance, inquiring something from a brighter one of her own
generation; but twice I saw her look up the garden path. None of them
stayed long, although when they were all gone the shadow of the garden
wall had come as far as the arbor; and once again Hortense sat alone
behind the table, leaning back with arms folded, and looking straight
in front of her. At last she stirred, and rose slowly, and then, with
a movement which was the perfection of timidity, began to advance, as
John, with his Aunt Eliza, came along the path. To John, Hortense with
familiar yet discreet brightness gave a left hand, as she waited for the
old lady; and then the old lady went through with it. What that embrace
of acknowledgment cost her cannot be measured, and during its process
John stood like a sentinel. Possibly this was the price of his
forgiveness to his Aunt Eliza.

The visitors accepted tea, and the beauty in Hortense's face was now
supreme. The old lady sat, forgetting to drink her tea, but very still
in outward attitude, as she talked with Hortense; and the sight of one
hand in its glove lying motionless upon her best dress, suddenly almost
drew unexpected tears to my eyes. John was nearly as quiet as she, but
the glove that he held was twisted between his fingers. I expected
that he would stay with his Hortense when his aunt took her leave; he,
however, was evidently expected by the old lady to accompany her out and
back, I suppose, to her house, as was proper.

But John's departure from Hortense differed from his meeting her. She
gave no left hand to him now; she gazed at him, and then, as the old
lady began to go toward the house, she moved a step toward him, and
then she cast herself into his arms! It was no acting, this, no skilful
simulation; her head sank upon his shoulder, and true passion spoke in
every line of that beautiful surrendered form, as it leaned against her
lover's.

"So that's why!" I exclaimed, once more aloud.

It was but a moment; and John, relea