rupulous
perfection of arrangement, that dainty finish, which makes an
atmosphere for the privacy of a certain type of woman. Ruth had done
her part, preserving purity unimpeachable; the deficiency was due to
Alma alone. To be sure, she had neither dressing-room nor lady's-maid;
and something in Alma's constitution made it difficult for her to
dispense with such aids to the complete life.

She stood before the mirror, and looked at herself, blankly, gloomily.
Her eyes fell a little, and took a new expression, that of anxious
scrutiny. Gazing still, she raised her arms, much as though she were
standing to be measured by a dressmaker; then she turned, so as to
obtain a view of her figure sideways. Her arms fell again,
apathetically, and she moved away.

Somehow, the long morning passed. In the afternoon she drove with
Harvey and Mrs. Frothingham, conversing much as usual, giving no verbal
hint of her overwhelming ennui. No reference was made to Mrs. Abbott.
Harvey had himself written her a letter, supporting Alma's invitation
with all possible cordiality; but he gravely feared that she would not
come.

At tea, according to custom, little Hugh was brought into the room, to
be fondled by his mother, who liked to see him when he was prettily
dressed, and to sit upon his father's knee. Hugh, aged sixteen months,
began to have a vocabulary of his own, and to claim a share in
conversation; he had a large head, well formed, and slight but shapely
limbs; the sweet air of sea and mountain gave a healthful, though very
delicate, colouring to his cheeks; his eyes were Alma's, dark and
gleaming, but with promise of a keener intelligence. Harvey liked to
gaze long at the little face, puzzled by its frequent gravity,
delighted by its flashes of mirth. Syllables of baby-talk set him
musing and philosophising. How fresh and young, yet how wondrously old!
Babble such as this fell from a child's lips thousands of years ago, in
the morning of the world; it sounded on through the ages, infinitely
reproduced; eternally a new beginning; the same music of earliest human
speech, the same ripple of innocent laughter, renewed from generation
to generation. But he, listening, had not the merry, fearless pride of
fathers in an earlier day. Upon him lay the burden of all time; he must
needs ponder anxiously on his child's heritage, use his weary knowledge
to cast the horoscope of this dawning life.

'Why are you looking at him in that way?' excl