er. At the last cake-baking, with the
dish of cake sent to Joanna it went. Back it has not come."

"For it you might go, Katherine. I like not that my sets are broken."

Katherine blushed scarlet. This was the opportunity she wanted. She
wondered if her mother suspected the want; but Lysbet's face expressed
only a little worry about the missing damask. Slowly, though her heart
beat almost at her lips, she folded away her work, and put her needle,
and thread, and thimble, and scissors, each in its proper place in her
house-wife. So deliberate were all her actions, that Lysbet's suspicions
were almost allayed. Yet she thought, "If out she wishes to go, leave I
have now given her; and, if not, still the walk will do her some good."
And yet there was in her heart just that element of doubt, which,
whenever it is present, ought to make us pause and reconsider the words
we are going to speak or write, and the deed we are going to do.

The nights were yet chilly,--though the first blooms were on the
trees,--and the wadded cloak and hood were not so far out of season as
to cause remark. As she came downstairs, the clock struck seven. There
was yet an hour, and she durst not wait so long at the bottom of the
garden while it was early in the evening. When her work was done, Lysbet
frequently walked down it; she had a motherly interest in the budding
fruit-trees and the growing flowers. And a singular reluctance to leave
home assailed Katherine. If she had known that it was to be forever, her
soul could not have more sensibly taken its farewell of all the dear,
familiar objects of her daily life. About her mother this feeling
culminated. She found her cap a little out of place; and her fingers
lingered in the lace, and stroked fondly her hair and pink cheeks, until
Lysbet felt almost embarrassed by the tender, but unusual show of
affection.

"Now, then, go, my Katherine. To Joanna give my dear love. Tell her that
very good were the cheesecakes and the krullers, and that to-morrow I
will come over and see the new carpet they have bought."

And while she spoke she was retying Katherine's hood, and admiring as
she did so the fair, sweet face in its quiltings or crimson satin, and
the small, dimpled chin resting upon the fine bow she tied under it.
Then she followed her to the door, and watched her down the road until
she saw her meet Dominie Van Linden, and stand a moment holding his
hand. "A message I am going for my mother," sh