not be hidden by clouds. He hoped so too; but old
Marcher knew the way. She had heard that the East Branch was up. He had
heard so also; but old Marcher could swim very well. All this was
commonplace, yet it seemed to Wainwright that the girl appeared to
derive a certain comfort from it, and to linger. There was a pause.

"This is my friend," said Brother Bethuel at last, indicating Stephen
with a backward turn of his thumb; "Mr.--Mr.--"

"Wainwright," said Stephen, uncovering; then, with his straw hat in his
hand, he made her a low bow, as deliberate as the salutations in a
minuet, coming up slowly and looking with gravity full in her face. He
had what he wanted then--a look; she had never seen such a bow before.
To tell the truth, neither had Stephen; he invented it for the occasion.

"Met him on the stage," said Brother Bethuel, "and, as he is a stranger,
I thought, perhaps, Miss Honor, the Colonel would let him call round
this afternoon; he'd take it as a favor, I know." There was a concealed
determination in his voice. The girl immediately gave Stephen another
look. "My uncle will be happy to see you," she said quickly. Then they
all walked on together, and Stephen noted, under his eyelashes, the
mended gloves, the coarse shoe, and the rusty color of the black gown;
he noted also the absolute purity of the skin over the side of the face
which was next to him, over the thin cheek, the rather prominent nose,
the little shell-like ear, and the rim of throat above the linen collar.
This clear white went down to the edge of the arched lips, and met the
red there sharply and decidedly; the two colors were not mingled at all.
What was there about her that interested him? It was the strong reality
of her religious belief. In the character-studies with which he amused
his life he recognized any real feeling, no matter what, as a rarity, a
treasure-trove. Once he had spent six weeks in studying a woman who
slowly and carefully planned and executed a revenge. He had studied what
is called religion enormously, considering it one of the great spiritual
influences of the world: he had found it, in his individual cases so
far, mixed. Should he study this new specimen? He had not decided when
they came to the porch of the inn. There was no hurry about deciding,
and this was his place to stop; he never went out of his way. But Honor
paused too, and, looking at him, said, with a mixture of earnestness and
timidity: "You will come