her,
seemed to give out light like a star. It might not have been the
highest affection which the girl, who was one of clear and limpid
shadows rather than depths, felt; it might have had its roots in
selfish ends; but it fairly glorified her. Maria with a sudden
impulse bent over her and kissed her. "I am very glad, dear," she
said, "and now I must run, or I shall be late. My coat is
down-stairs."

"Don't say anything before your aunt Maria, will you?" said Lily,
rising and following her.

"No, of course, if you don't want me to."

"Of course it will be all over town before night," said Lily, "but
someway I would rather your aunt Maria did not hear it from me. She
doesn't like me a bit." Lily said the last in a whisper.

Both girls went down-stairs, and Maria took her coat from the rack in
the hall.

Aunt Maria opened the sitting-room door. She had a little satchel
with Maria's lunch. "Here is your luncheon," said she, in a hard
tone, "and you'd better hurry and not stop to talk, or you'll be
late."

"I am going right away, Aunt Maria," said Maria. She took the
satchel, and kissed her aunt on her thin, sallow cheek.

"Good-morning, Miss Stillman," said Lily, sweetly, as she followed
Maria.

Aunt Maria said nothing at all; she gave Lily a grim nod, while her
lips were tightly compressed. She turned the key in the door with an
audible snap.

"Well, good-bye, dear," said Lily to Maria. "I hope you will be as
happy as I am some day, and I know you will."

Lily's face was entirely sweet and womanly as she turned it towards
Maria for a kiss, which Maria gave her.

"Good-bye, dear," she said, gently, and was off.

Nobody knew how glad she was to be off. She had a stunned, shocked
feeling; she realized that her knees trembled, but she held up her
head straight and went on. She realized that worse than anything else
would be the suspicion on the part of any one that Lily's engagement
to George Ramsey troubled her. All the time, as she hurried along the
familiar road, she realized that strange, shocked feeling, as of some
tremendous detonation of spirit. She bowed mechanically to people
whom she met. She did not fairly know who they were. She kept on her
way only through inertia. She felt that if she stopped to think, she
would scarcely know the road to the school-house. She wondered when
she met a girl somewhat older than herself, just as she reached the
bridge, if that girl, who was plain and poorly dressed,