at rest on the blue. Nature had done her
work for the year; she had grown the grass and ripened the grain, and
manufactured the wonderful juices in the tissues of the fruit, and laid
a new growth of woody fibre round the heart of the trees. She was
resting now, as it were, content with her work. And so seemed Lois to
be doing, at the moment Mrs. Barclay entered the garden. It was unusual
to find her so. I suppose the witching beauty of the day beguiled her.
But it was of another beauty Mrs. Barclay thought, as she drew near the
girl.

A short ladder stood under one of the apple trees, upon which Lois had
been mounting to pluck her fruit. On the ground below stood two large
baskets, full now of the ruddy apples, shining and beautiful. Beside
them, on the dry turf, sat Lois with her hands in her lap; and Mrs.
Barclay wondered at her as she drew near.

Yet it is not too easy to tell why, at least so as to make the reader
get at the sense of the words. I have the girl's image before my eyes,
mentally, but words have neither form nor colour; how shall I paint
with them? It was not the beauty of mere form and colour, either, that
struck Mrs. Barclay in Lois's face. You may easily see more regular
features and more dazzling complexion. It was not any particular
brilliance of eye, or piquancy of expression. There was a soundness and
fulness of young life; that is not so uncommon either. There was a
steadfast strength and sweetness of nature. There was an unconscious,
innocent grace, that is exceedingly rare. And a high, noble expression
of countenance and air and movement, such as can belong only to one
whose thoughts and aims never descend to pettinesses; who assimilates
nobility by being always concerned with what is noble. And then, the
face was very fair; the ruddy brown hair very rich and abundant; the
figure graceful and good; all the spiritual beauty I have been
endeavouring to describe had a favouring groundwork of nature to
display itself upon. Mrs. Barclay's steps grew slower and slower as she
came near, that she might prolong the view, which to her was so lovely.
Then Lois looked at her and slightly smiled.

"Lois, my dear, what are you doing?"

"Not exactly nothing, Mrs. Barclay; though it looks like it. Such a day
one cannot bear to go in-doors!"

"You are gathering your apples?"

"I have got done for to-day."

"What are you studying, here beside your baskets? What beautiful
apples!"

"Aren't they? Thes