just risen, and the
pale stars peeped through the patches of white cloud that to her fancy
looked like the foot-prints of angels here and there on the path of the
infinite. As she neared home a sound of music thrilled her. It was only
an old familiar tune, but she stopped as if in a trance. The touch
seemed to fill her very soul. It was so brave and yet so tender. The
music ceased; some sheep were bleating in the distance, the stars were
growing brighter, and she went on toward home.

She was surprised as she crossed the yard to see a tall dark-haired
stranger talking to her father in the parlor. She was just passing the
parlor door when he came toward her.

"Well, Beth, my old play-mate!"

"Arthur!"

They would have made a subject for an artist as they stood with clasped
hands, the handsome dark-eyed man, the girl, in her white dress, her
milk-pail on her arm, and her wondering grey eyes upturned to his.

"Why, Beth, you look at me as if I were a spectre."

"But, Arthur, you're so changed! Why, you're a man, now!" at which he
laughed a merry laugh that echoed clear to the kitchen.

Beth joined her father and Arthur in the parlor, and they talked the old
days over again before they retired to rest. Beth took out her pale blue
dress again before she went to sleep. Yes, she would wear that to the
Mayfair's next day, and there were white moss roses at the dining-room
window that would just match. So thinking she laid it carefully away and
slept her girl's sleep that night.

CHAPTER II.

_A DREAM OF LIFE._

It was late the next afternoon when Beth stood before the mirror
fastening the moss roses in her belt. Arthur had gone away with her
father to see a friend, and would not return till well on in the
evening. Aunt Prudence gave her the customary warning about not staying
late and Beth went off with a lighter heart than usual. It was a
delightful day. The homes all looked so cheery, and the children were
playing at the gates as she went down the street. There was one her eye
dwelt on more than the rest. The pigeons were strutting on the sloping
roof, the cat dozed in the window-sill, and the little fair-haired girls
were swinging under the cherry-tree. Yes, marriage and home must be
sweet after all. Beth had always said she never would marry. She wanted
to write stories and not have other cares. But school girls change
their views sometimes.

It was only a few minutes' walk to the Mayfair residence be