res.

At length, some one approaches the gate. None but Emily's quick ear
could have distinguished the light step; but she hears it at once, and,
rising, goes to meet the new comer, whom we must pause to introduce,
for, though an old acquaintance, time has not left her unchanged, and it
would be hard to recognize in her our little quondam Gertrude, for she
has now become a young lady. She is some inches taller than Emily, and
her figure is slight and delicate. Her complexion is dark, but clear,
and rendered brilliant by the rosy hue that flushes her cheeks; but that
may be the effect of her rapid walk from the railroad station.

Gertrude's eyes have retained their old lustre, and do not now look too
large for her face; and, if her mouth be less classically formed than
the strict rule of beauty would commend, it is atoned for by two rows of
small pearly teeth, which are as regular as a string of beads. Her neat
dress of spotted muslin fits close to her throat, and her black mantle
does not hide the roundness of her taper waist.

Is Gertrude a beauty? By no means. Hers is a face and form about which
there would be a thousand different opinions, and few would pronounce
her beautiful. But there are faces whose ever-varying expression one
loves to watch--tell-tale faces, that speak the truth and proclaim the
sentiment within; faces that now light up with intelligence, now beam
with mirth, now sadden at the tale of sorrow, now burn with a holy
indignation for that which the soul abhors, and faces sanctified by the
divine presence, when the heart turns from the world and itself, and
looks upward in the spirit of devotion. Such a face was Gertrude's.
There are forms which, though neither dignified nor fairy-like, possess
a grace, an ease, a power of moving airily in their sphere--and such a
form was Gertrude's. Whatever charm these attractions might give
her--and many estimated it highly--it was greatly enhanced by an utter
unconsciousness, on her part, of possessing any attractions at all.

As she perceived Miss Graham coming to meet her, she quickened her pace,
and joining her near the door-step, where a path led into the garden,
passed her arm affectionately over Emily's shoulder, in a manner which
the latter's blindness, and Gertrude's superior height and ability to
act as guide, had rendered usual, and said, while she drew the shawl
closer around her blind friend, "Here I am again, Miss Emily! Have you
been alone since