e heavy braid behind
made only one awkward turn at the back of the head. She had a boldly
cut profile, too marked for regular beauty, yet pleasant to the eye
owing to the delicate finish of the finer curves and the distinct arch
of the lips. Her cheeks were rather thin. She had no grace; she sat
stiffly on the bench, and resolutely listened to the dull discourse. "A
good forehead," thought Wainwright, "and, thank Fortune! not disfigured
by straggling ends of hair. 'Reflections on the Book of Job,' did he
say? Poor little soul!"

At last the service was ended, the sermon of dull paraphrases over; but
Wainwright did not get his look. Honor sat still in her place without
turning. He lingered awhile; but, as he never did anything, on
principle, that attracted attention, he went out with the last stray
members of the congregation, and walked down the green lane toward the
inn. He did not look back: certain rules of his he would not have
altered for the Queen of Sheba (whoever she was). But Brother Bethuel,
coming from the Methodist meeting-house, bore down upon him, and
effected what the Queen of Sheba could not have done: himself openly
watching the church-door, he took Wainwright by the arm, turned him
around, and, holding him by a buttonhole, stood talking to him. The red
wagon of the Eliots was standing at the gate; Mrs. Eliot was on the
front seat, and all the space behind was filled in with children. Black
Pompey was assisting his master into the driver's place, while Honor
held the crutch. A moment afterward the wagon passed them, Pompey
sitting at the end with his feet hanging down behind. Brother Bethuel
received a nod from the Colonel, but Madame Eliot serenely failed to see
him. The low-country lady had been brought up to return the bows and
salutations of all the blacks in the neighborhood, but whites below a
certain line she did not see.

Evidently Honor was going to walk home. In another moment she was close
to them, and Stephen was having his look. The same slight flush rose in
her face when she saw Brother Bethuel which had risen there the day
before; the same earnestness came into her eyes, and Stephen became
haunted by the desire to have them turned upon himself. But he was not
likely to have this good fortune; all her attention was concentrated
upon the little minister. She said she had the package ready; it would
be at the usual place. He would take it up, he replied, at sunset. She
hoped the moon would