drove home; and alas for Richard Gilbert,
how little he personally had to do with all that girlish rapture. He saw
that well-pleased face, and, like a wise man, asked no useless
questions. She was going to be his wife, everything was said in that.

CHAPTER VI.

BEFORE THE WEDDING.

The sober March twilight lay low on the snowy earth when the sleigh
whirled up to the door. The red firelight shone through the windows, and
they could see Aunt Hetty bustling about the kitchen. Neither had spoken
for a time, but now Norine turned to him, as she lightly sprang out.

"Say nothing of this to-night," she said, hurriedly; "wait until
to-morrow."

She was gone before he could answer, and he drove round to the stable.
Uncle Reuben was there, and Mr. Gilbert remained with him until Aunt
Hetty's voice was heard calling them to supper. The lawyer was standing
in the doorway, watching the solemn stars come out, a great silent
gravity on his face. But oh, so happy, too--so deeply, unutterably
happy.

The supper table was spread, lamp-light beamed, firelight glowed, and
Aunt Hetty awaited them impatient, lest her warm milk biscuits and
sugared "flap-jacks" should grow cold.

Norine stood leaning against the mantel, looking dreamily into the red
fire. How pale she was, how strangely grave and thoughtful. Yet not
unhappy, surely, for she glanced up in her lover's face with a quick
blush and smile, and talked to him shyly throughout supper. Later still
she played and sang for him the songs and pieces he liked best, played a
game of euchre with him, and if she thought of Laurence Thorndyke, who
had taught her the game, Richard Gilbert did not know it.

"She will learn to love me," he thought. "My pretty, dark-eyed darling!
I will love her so much. I will so gratify her in everything. I will be
so devoted, in all ways, that she cannot help it. Please Heaven, her
life shall be a happy one with me."

Norine retired early. Her long drive had made her tired and sleepy she
said; but she did not go to sleep.

Moon and stars shone crystal clear, pearly bright. She blew out her
lamp, wrapped a shawl about her, and sat down by the window. Weirdly
still lay everything, ivory light, ebony shadows, no sound but the
rattling of the skeleton trees in the wintry night wind. No living thing
was visible far or near. There was only the star-gemmed sky above, the
chill, white world below. She could read her heart in the holy hush of
the nig