, and whose pure soul looked
frankly forth from her clear blue eyes.

He was not in love with Miss Cavendish, he said to himself, but he could
not help feeling the difference between radiant frankness and dark
deceit.

One evening, about this time, they met at a strawberry festival, held in
the lecture-room of the church, for the benefit of the Sunday-school.

While the festival was at its height a thunder-storm came up, with a
heavy shower of rain. But the company at the festival cared little about
that. They were housed, and enjoyed themselves with light music, fruits,
flowers and friends. And before the hour of separation the storm would
probably be over, and carriages, or at least water-proof cloaks,
overshoes and umbrella's, would be in attendance upon every one.

So they made merry until eleven o'clock, when the storm was passing away
with a steady light rain.

Every lady who had a carriage in waiting offered to give Mrs. Grey a
seat and to set her down at her own door.

Mary Grey thanked each in succession and declined the kind offer, adding
that she expected some one to come for her.

At last nearly everybody had left the room but the treasurer of the
festival, who was counting the receipts, and the sexton, who was
covering the tables, preparatory to closing for the night.

Alden Lytton had lingered to make a quiet donation to the charity, and
he was passing out, when, he saw Mary Grey standing shivering near the
door.

As he came up to her she stepped out into the darkness and the rain.

He hastened after her, exclaiming:

"Mrs. Grey! I beg your pardon! Are you alone?"

"Yes, Mr. Lytton," she answered, quietly.

"And you have no umbrella!" he said, quickly, as he hoisted his own and
stepped to her side. "Permit me to see you safe to your door. Take my
arm. It is very dark and the walking is dangerous. The sidewalks are
turned to brooks by this storm," he added, as he held his umbrella
carefully over her.

"I thank you very much, Mr. Lytton; but indeed I do not wish to give you
so much trouble. I can go home quite well enough alone. I have often to
do it," she answered, shrinking away from him.

"It is not safe for you to do so, especially on such a night as this.
Will you take my arm?" he said; and, without waiting for her answer, he
took her hand and drew it through his arm and walked on with her in
silence, wondering at and blaming the heartlessness of the ladies of her
circle who had carri