and of his contrarieties. She said:

"God wills, or God does not will," just like a sergeant announcing to a
recruit: "The colonel has commanded."

At the bottom of her heart, she deplored my ignorance of the intentions
of the Eternal, which she strove, and felt herself compelled to impart
to me.

Almost every day, I found in my pockets, in my hat when I lifted it from
the ground, in my box of colors, in my polished shoes, standing in the
mornings in front of my door, those little pious brochures, which she,
no doubt, received directly from Paradise.

I treated her as one would an old friend, with unaffected cordiality.
But I soon perceived that she had changed somewhat in her manner; but,
for a while, I paid little attention to it.

When I walked about, whether to the bottom of the valley, or through
some country lanes, I would see her suddenly appear, as though she were
returning from a rapid walk. She would then sit down abruptly, out of
breath, as though she had been running, or overcome by some profound
emotion. Her face would be red, that English red which is denied to the
people of all other countries; then, without any reason, she would grow
pale, become the color of the ground and seem ready to faint away.
Gradually, however, I would see her regain her ordinary color, whereupon
she would begin to speak.

Then, without warning, she would break off in the middle of a sentence,
spring up from her seat, and march off so rapidly and so strangely, that
it would, sometimes, put me to my wits ends to try and discover whether
I had done or said anything to displease or offend her.

I finally came to the conclusion that this arose from her early habits
and training, somewhat modified, no doubt, in honor of me, since the
first days of our acquaintanceship.

When she returned to the farm, after walking for hours on the
wind-beaten coast, her long curled hair would be shaken out and hanging
loose, as though it had broken away from its bearings. It was seldom
that this gave her any concern; looking sometimes as though she had just
returned from dining _sans ceremonie_; her locks having become
dishevelled by the breezes.

She would then go up to her room in order to adjust what I called her
glass lamps; and when I would say to her, in the familiar gallantry,
which, however, always offended her:

"You are as beautiful as a planet to-day, Miss Harriet," a little blood
would immediately mount into her cheeks, the blo