gravely, almost
reverently, and in silence they returned to the house. It seemed to Anne
that many long minutes passed as they walked through the garden, brushed
by the roses on each side: in reality the minutes were three.

For that evening meteors had been appointed by the astronomers and the
newspapers. They were, when they came, few and faint; but they afforded
a pretext for being out on the hill. Anne was there with Mr. Dexter, and
other star-gazers were near. Heathcote and Rachel, however, were not
visible, and this disturbed Dexter. In spite of himself, he could never
be quite content unless he knew where that dark-eyed woman was. But his
inward annoyance did not affect either his memory or the fine tones of
his voice. No one on the hill that night quoted so well or so aptly
grand star-like sentences, or verses appropriate to the occasion.

"When standing alone on a hill-top during a clear night such as this,
Miss Douglas," he said, "the roll of the earth eastward is almost a
palpable movement. The sensation may be caused by the panoramic glide of
the stars past earthly objects, or by the wind, or by the solitude; but
whatever be its origin, the impression of riding along is vivid and
abiding. We are now watching our own stately progress through the
stars."

"Hear Dexter quote," said Heathcote, in his lowest under-tone, to
Rachel. They were near the others, but, instead of standing, were
sitting on the grass, with a large bush for background; in its shadow
their figures were concealed, and the rustle of its leaves drowned their
whispers.

"Hush! I like Mr. Dexter," said Rachel.

"I know you do. You will marry that man some day."

"Do _you_ say that, Ward?"

An hour later, Anne, in her own room, was timidly adding the same name
to her own petitions before she slept.

The next day, and the next, they met in the garden at sunset as before,
and each time when they parted she was flushed and excited by the effort
she was making, and he was calm and content. On the third afternoon they
did not meet, for there was another picnic. But as the sun sank below
the horizon, and the rich colors rose in the sky, Heathcote turned, and,
across all the merry throng, looked at her as if in remembrance. After
that he did not see her alone for several days: chance obstacles stood
in the way, and he never forced anything. Then there was another
unmolested hour in the arbor; then another. Anne was now deeply
interested. How