CHAPTER XXI.

PRESSURE.

"To be warped, unconsciously, by the magnetic influence of all
around is the destiny, to a certain extent, of even the greatest
souls."--OAKFIELD.

June came, and Saidie Gartney. Not for flowers, or strawberries, merely;
but for father's and mother's consent that, in a few weeks, when flowers
and strawberries should have fully come, there should be a marriage
feast made for her in the simple home, and she should go forth into the
gay world again, the bride of a wealthy New York banker.

Aunt Etherege and Saidie filled the house. With finery, with bustle,
with important presence.

Miss Gartney's engagement had been sudden; her marriage was to be
speedy. Half a dozen seamstresses, and as many sewing machines, were
busy in New York--hands, feet, and wheels--in making up the delicate
draperies for the _trousseau_; and Madame A---- was frantic with the
heap of elaborate dresses that was thrust upon her hands, and must be
ready for the thirtieth.

Mrs. Gartney and Faith had enough to do, to put the house and themselves
in festival trim. Hendie was spoiled with having no lessons, and more
toys and sugar plums than he knew what to do with. Mr. Selmore's comings
and goings made special ebullitions, weekly, where was only a continuous
lesser effervescence before. Mis' Battis had not been able to subside
into an armchair since the last day of May.

Faith found great favor in the eyes of her brother-in-law elect. He
pronounced her a "_naive, piquante_ little person," and already there
was talk of how pleasant it would be, to have her in Madison Square, and
show her to the world. Faith said nothing to this, but in her heart she
clung to Kinnicutt.

Glory thought Miss Gartney wonderful. Even Mr. Armstrong spoke to Aunt
Faith of the striking beauty of her elder niece.

"I don't know how she _does_ look," Aunt Faith replied, with all her
ancient gruffness. "I see a great show of flounces, and manners, and
hair; but they don't look as if they all grew, natural. I can't make
_her_ out, amongst all that. Now, _Faith's_ just Faith. You see her
prettiness the minute you look at her, as you do a flower's."

"There are not many like Miss Faith," replied Mr. Armstrong. "I never
knew but one other who so wore the fresh, pure beauty of God's giving."

His voice was low and quiet, and his eye looked afar, as he spoke.

Glory went away, and sat down on the doorstone. There was a strange
tumult at her