ere arose and
floated through the windows a veritable paean, so sweet and loud that the
boatmen on the river heard.

On went the service until the sermon was reached, and on went the sermon
from "firstly" to "eighteenthly and last, my brethren." The sermon was
upon Charity, and included no allusion to the topic of the day uppermost
in men's minds, for this minister never evinced any party spirit, and
thought politics not his province. The discourse ended, the plate was
carried and the benediction given, whereupon, after a decorous pause,
the congregation streamed forth to the green and warm churchyard.

Here it broke into groups, flowery bright on the part of the women,
gallant and gay enough on the side of the attending gentlemen. The broad
path was like the unfolding of a figured ribbon, and the sward on either
hand like sprinkled taffeta. The sky between the large white clouds
showed bluer than blue, and the leaves of the sycamores trembled in a
small, refreshing breeze. The birds were silent, but the insect world
filled with its light voice the space between all other sounds. Outside
the gate coaches and horses waited. There was no hurry; the ribbon
unrolled but slowly, and the blossomy knots upon the taffeta as
leisurely shifted position.

Theodosia Alston and Jacqueline came out of church together, in a
cluster of Carringtons and Amblers. Besides her affianced, Unity had for
company Captain Decatur, Mr. Irving, and Mr. Scott. The throng, pressing
between, separated the cousins. Aaron Burr's daughter, though she talked
and laughed with spirit and vivacity, was so evidently anxious to be
away that the friend with whom she had come made haste down the path to
their waiting coach. Jacqueline, meaning to tarry but a moment beside
the woman for whom all, of whatever party, had only admiration and
sympathy, found herself drawn along the path to the gate. The Carrington
coach rolled away, and she was left almost alone in the sunny lower end
of the churchyard.

The ribbon was unrolling toward her, and she waited, glad of the
moment's quiet. She saw Unity's forget-me-not blue, and Charlotte
Foushee's bonnet, piquant and immense, and Mrs. Randolph's lilac
lutestring, and all the blue and green and wine-coloured coats of the
men moving toward her as in a summer dream, gay midges in a giant shaft
of sunlight. A great bee droned past her to the honeysuckle upon the
wall against which she leaned. She watched the furred creat