ing the boarders, too. Beth naturally supposed that
the musician she had heard the night before had been a caller, and so
made no enquiries.

The following Sunday evening Beth went to church alone. It was only
three or four blocks up to the Central, and Beth was never timid. She
did not look around the church much, or she would have recognized a
familiar face on the east side. It was Clarence Mayfair's; he was paler
than usual, and his light curly hair looked almost artificial in the
gaslight. There was something sadder and more manly in his expression,
and his eyes were fixed on Beth with a reverent look. How pure she was,
he thought, how serene; her brow looked as though an angel-hand had
smoothed it in her slumber. She seemed to breathe a benediction on
everything around her; she reminded him of an image of an angel bending
in prayer, that he had seen in one of the old cathedral windows across
the sea. And yet, after knowing a woman like that, he had fancied he
could--even fancied he did--love Marie de Vere. What folly had blinded
him then, he wondered? Marie had her charms, to be sure, with those
dark, bewitching eyes of hers, so kind and sympathetic, so bright and
witty and entertaining. But there was something about Marie that was
fleeting, something about Beth that was abiding; Marie's charms
bewitched while she was present and were soon forgotten, but Beth's
lingered in the memory and deepened with the years. It was well, after
all, he thought, that Marie had refused his offer of marriage that
morning he received Beth's note, and went to her in the heat of his
passion. He was but a boy then, and yet it was only a few months ago.
What was it that had changed him from boyhood to manhood so suddenly? He
did not try to answer the question, but only felt conscious of the
change within. He realized now that he had never known what it meant to
love. Marie had shed her lustre on him as she passed; Beth he had never
fully comprehended. He had a dim feeling that she was somehow too high
for him. But would this reverence he felt for her ripen into love with
the maturer years of his manhood? We never can tell the changes that
time will weave in these hearts of ours. It is to be feared Clarence was
not a very attentive listener throughout the service that night. At the
close he waited for Beth in the moonlight outside, but she did not
notice him till he was right beside her.

"Clarence!" she exclaimed, in a tone of astonish