eldom met his eyes fully. From these things both young men
drew their conclusions, which were somewhat alike, and should both have
been subject to correction. More than once they measured one another
covertly, and from the heart of him who feared that he had lost her
there stretched out toward the other a terrible shadow which in the
wavering of his changing thoughts grew, and lessened, and grew again,
and sometimes reached forward and clutched with its hideous hands, and
then drew back, and crouched, and waited.

It was a perfect summer night when Elizabeth leaned out of her window
into the stillness. The roar of the surf was as distinct as if it came
from the pebbled beach below; yet, modulated by distance, it formed the
base, sustained and rythmic, into which there fell harmoniously that
legato treble of murmur which makes us seem to hear the stillness, and
that staccato note of some accidental sound softened to accord with the
mood of the night. She needed the peace that she felt in the air, for
her cheeks were wet with passionate tears and her lips still trembled.
She could give utterance to her trouble now, she was free for hours from
every ear, from every eye, hidden away from all but the sight and
hearing of the God she sought in the dark and the silence.

Brought up in the creed of the Puritans, believing it entirely, as she
supposed, there was yet in her heart when she sent it Heavenward a joy
which sprang from a more loving faith. Perhaps it was because of her own
beautiful human associations with the name that at the words "Our
Father," her heart swelled with confidence that God listened to her
voice, and that his loving kindness wrapped her about. If her prayers
were not always granted as she wished, she perceived that the hands she
stretched out in pleading were never drawn back empty, for when they did
not hold her requests, they were filled with what was to be given her
tonight,--courage to meet the trials that she dreaded. The next day's
trial was to be the worst of all, for it was then that they were to dine
at the Colonel's, and Katie was to be there,--Katie, whom she loved
dearly, whom she had robbed so unintentionally, and who would not
forgive her. It would be hard for Archdale; but Elizabeth dismissed him
from her thoughts, for her heart was-full to overflowing of her own
grief, and of Katie. Kneeling there, sobs shook her with an abandonment
to her sorrow that was in itself a relief after her res