r,
in its rich colour, was only dark enough to set off the tender tints of
her flowers and dress; it wanted neither veil nor adornment. The very
outlines of her figure betokened, as outlines are somewhat apt to do,
the spirit within; without a harsh angle or line. And nothing could be
too soft, or strong, or pure, to go with those eyes. She sat looking
out into the orchard, where now the noonday of summer held its still
reign--nothing there but the grass and the trees and the insects. The
cowslips were gone; and Mr. Linden----

Pet finished all that had been left unfinished of her own dress, then
in her rose-coloured summer silk, white gloves in her hand, white
flowers on her breast, she came and stood by Faith. Mrs. Derrick had
gone down stairs. It was close upon one o'clock now; the shadows were
losing their directness and taking a slant line, the labourers were
coming back to their work, standing about and taking off their coats,
waiting for the clock to strike. Miss Linden stood drawing on her
gloves. Faith gave her one swift glance, which rested for a second on
her face with a look of loving gratitude. A flush rose to her cheek, as
if it might have been the reflection of Miss Linden's dress; but it was
not that, for it paled again.

One o'clock!

It would have seemed a less weird sort of thing if the clock had made a
little more fuss,--twelve strokes, or even eleven, would have been
something tangible; but that one clang--scarce heard before it was
gone, dying away on the June breeze,--what a point of time it seemed!
The waves of air were but just at rest, when Mrs. Derrick opened the
door and came in; her black dress and white cap setting off a face and
demeanour which, with all their wonted sweet placidness, and amid all
the tender influences of the day, kept too their wonted energy.

"Come, pretty child!" she said.

Faith was ready, and followed her mother without a question. In the
hall Mr. Linden stood waiting for her, and she was given into his care;
though again Faith lost the look which passed between the two,--she saw
only the startling white of Mr. Linden's gloves. He handed her down
stairs, then gave her his arm and took her in; Mrs. Derrick going
first, and Pet following.

There were but six or eight people there. On one side sat Mrs. Iredell
in her rich dress; the rest were standing, except little Ency Stephens,
who was in one of her perched-up positions by the window. Mr. Somers
was lingering