colored silk mitt on the Squire's arm; her satin gown rustled
softly as she passed before him, shrinking against the wall to give
her room, and a faint fragrance which seemed like the very breath of
the unknown delicacy and exclusiveness of life came to his bewildered
senses.

Many a time he cast furtive glances across the meeting-house at
Evelina, but she never looked his way again. If his timid boy-eyes
could have seen her cheek behind its veil of curls, he might have
discovered that the color came and went before his glances, although
it was strange how she could have been conscious of them; but he
never knew.

And he also never knew how, when he walked past the Squire's house of
a Sunday evening, dressed in his best, with his shoulders thrust
consciously back, and the windows in the westering sun looked full of
blank gold to his furtive eyes, Evelina was always peeping at him
from behind a shutter, and he never dared go in. His intuitions were
not like hers, and so nothing happened that might have, and he never
fairly knew what he knew. But that he never told, even to his wife
when he married; for his hot young blood grew weary and impatient
with this vain courtship, and he turned to one of his villagemates,
who met him fairly half way, and married her within a year.

On the Sunday when he and his bride first appeared in the
meeting-house Evelina went up the aisle behind her father in an array
of flowered brocade, stiff with threads of silver, so wonderful that
people all turned their heads to stare at her. She wore also a new
bonnet of rose-colored satin, and her curls were caught back a
little, and her face showed as clear and beautiful as an angel's.

The young bridegroom glanced at her once across the meeting-house,
then he looked at his bride in her gay wedding finery with a faithful
look.

When Evelina met them in the doorway, after meeting was done, she
bowed with a sweet cold grace to the bride, who courtesied blushingly
in return, with an awkward sweep of her foot in the bridal satin
shoe. The bridegroom did not look at Evelina at all. He held his chin
well down in his stock with solemn embarrassment, and passed out
stiffly, his bride on his arm.

Evelina, shining in the sun like a silver lily, went up the street,
her father stalking beside her with stately swings of his cane, and
that was the last time she was ever seen at meeting. Nobody knew why.

When Evelina was a little over thirty her father