ress, too. There is half a million, they say; and Uncle
Hetherton has charge of it. Now, will you believe me when I say that I
would give every dollar of this for Arthur's love if I could not have
it without."

"I do believe you," Anna replied, inexpressibly glad that the
gathering darkness hid her white face from view as the child-like,
unsuspecting girl went on. "The world, I know, would say that a poor
clergyman was not a good match for me, but I do not care for that.
Cousin Fanny favors it, I am sure, and Uncle Hetherton would not
oppose me when he saw I was in earnest. Once the world, which is a
very meddlesome thing, picked out Thornton Hastings, of New York, for
me; but my! he was too proud and lofty even to talk to me much, and I
would not speak to him after I heard of his saying that 'I was a
pretty little plaything, but far too frivolous for a sensible man to
make his wife.' Oh, wasn't I angry, though, and don't I hope that when
he gets a wife she will be exactly such a frivolous thing as I am."

Even through the darkness Anna could see the blue eyes flash and the
delicate nostrils dilate as Lucy gave vent to her wrath against the
luckless Thornton Hastings.

"You will meet him at Saratoga. He is always there in the summer, but
don't you speak to him, the hateful. He'll be calling you frivolous
next."

An amused smile flitted across Anna's face as she asked: "But won't
you, too, be at Saratoga? I supposed you were all going there."

"_Cela depend_," Lucy replied. "I would so much rather stay here. The
dressing and dancing and flirting tire me so, and then, you know what
Arthur said about taking me for his deaconess in your place."

There was a call just then from the hall below. Mrs. Meredith was
getting impatient of the delay, and, with a good-by kiss, Anna went
down the stairs and out upon the piazza, where her aunt was waiting.
Mr. Leighton had accepted Fanny's invitation to stay to tea, and he
handed the ladies to their carriage, lingering a moment while he said
his parting words, for he was going out of town to-morrow, and when he
returned Anna would be gone.

"You will think of us sometimes," he said, still holding Anna's hand.
"St. Mark's will be lonely without you. God bless you and bring you
safely back."

There was a warm pressure of the hand, a lifting of Arthur's hat, and
then the carriage moved away; but Anna, looking back, saw Arthur
standing by Lucy's side, fastening a rosebud in her h