ul curves, was
bewitching. Altogether, a more graceful figure, in its white dress, and
a more perfect face, had seldom made their way through a vista of summer
foliage. Was it her fault if too critical an observer missed in the face
those shadowy lines that nothing but thought can draw, and in the eyes
that peculiar clear depth of shining that comes only when fires of pain
have burned into the soul, and purified it, and made it luminous? The
shadows of the great trees above her flickered over her face, and did
their best to make up the defect, and her long lashes threw a beautiful
shade around the bright brown eyes. A young life that suffering has
never touched has a wonderful charm in its exemption. It is only when
suffering fails in its work that something is missed in the face it has
passed over.

As she came near the house she saw that the hall door stood open. She
thought that her uncle, or one of the girls, was there. With a smile of
greeting she ran the few more steps up the avenue, and standing on the
threshold, called merrily:--

"Here am I! Where are you, somebody? Uncle Walter? Faith?" Then she gave
a cry of surprise, and, holding out her hand without any embarrassment,
said:--

"Stephen! you at home? I hadn't heard of it. When did you come?"

Archdale stood a moment motionless, looking at her fixedly. Then he came
forward mechanically and took her hand, still staring at her, in what
seemed to her a kind of bewilderment, until she again asked when he had
returned, and hoped that he had escaped wounds and illness in the siege.

"Yes," he said, at last, in what seemed to her an unnatural way, "I am
quite well, thank you." After a pause he added, "I was coming this
evening to see you all. I reached here only to-day."

"Come back with me," she answered, "and"--she hesitated a moment, then,
feeling that it was better for poor Stephen to have the encounter over
at once, since he must bear the pain of it, she busied herself with
looking through the open door of the drawing-room, and added,--"You will
meet Lord Bulchester there; he is coming this evening." In spite of
herself she turned pale, and her eyelids drooped.

But Stephen held out his hand with a coolness that she told herself was
admirably assumed.

"I congratulate you," he said. "He is a much better match than I am. He
is a good fellow, too, else I shouldn't be glad, my dear cousin." He had
not called her cousin for years, not since their betrothal