retired, her dress always became her rank; being simple, but of the
character that denotes refinement, and the habits and tastes of a
gentlewoman. In this particular, Maud had ever been observant of what
was due to herself; and, more than all, had she attended to her present
appearance since a chance expression of Robert Willoughby's had
betrayed how much he prized the quality in her.

Looking thus, and in a melancholy frame of mind, Maud reached the rock,
and took her place on its simple seat, throwing aside her hat, to catch
a little of the cooling air on her burning cheeks. She turned to look
at the lovely view again, with a pleasure that never tired. The rays of
the sun were streaming athwart the verdant meadows and rich corn,
lengthening the shadows, and mellowing everything, as if expressly to
please the eye of one like her who now gazed upon the scene. Most of
the people of the settlement were in the open air, the men closing
their day's works in the fields, and the women and children busied
beneath shades, with their wheels and needles; the whole presenting
such a picture of peaceful, rural life, as a poet might delight to
describe, or an artist to delineate with his pencil.

"The landscape smiles
Calm in the sun; and silent are the hills
And valleys, and the blue serene of air."

_The Vanished Lark_.

"It is very beautiful!" thought Maud. "Why cannot men be content with
such scenes of loveliness and nature as this, and love each other, and
be at peace, as God's laws command? Then we might all be living happily
together, Mere, without trembling lest news of some sad misfortune
should reach us, from hour to hour. Beulah and Evert would not be
separated; but both could remain with their child--and my dear, dear
father and mother would be so happy to have us all around them, in
security--and, then, Bob, too--perhaps Bob might bring a wife from the
town, with him, that I could love as I do Beulah"--It was one of Maud's
day-dreams to love the wife of Bob, and make him happy by contributing
to the happiness of those he most prized--"No; I could never love her
as I do _Beulah_; but I should make her very dear to me, as I
ought to, since she would be Bob's wife."

The expression of Maud's face, towards the close of this mental
soliloquy, was of singular sadness; and yet it was the very picture of
sincerity and truth. It was some such look as the windows of the mind
assume, when the feelings struggle against