long light curl outside her bonnet on each side
of her face. Her bonnet was tied under her chin with a green ribbon,
and she had a little feathery green wreath around her face inside the
rim. Her wide silk skirt was shot with green and blue, and rustled as
she walked up the aisle to her pew. People stared after her without
knowing why. There was no tangible change in her appearance. She had
worn that same green shot silk many Sabbaths; her bonnet was three
summers old; the curls drooping on her cheeks were an innovation, but
the people did not recognize the change as due to them. Sylvia
herself had looked with pleased wonder at her face in the glass; it
was as if all her youthful beauty had suddenly come up, like a
withered rose which is dipped in a vase.

"I sha'n't look so terrible old side of him when I go out bride," she
reflected, happily, smiling fondly at herself. All the way to meeting
that Sunday morning she saw her face as she had seen it in the glass,
and it was as if she walked with something finer than herself.

Richard Alger sat with the choir in a pew beside the pulpit, at right
angles with the others. He had a fine tenor voice, and had sung in
the choir ever since he was a boy. When Sylvia sat down in her place,
which was in full range of his eyes, he glanced at her without
turning his head; he meant to look away again directly, so as not to
be observed, but her face held him. A color slowly flamed out on his
pale brown cheeks; his eyes became intense and abstracted. A soprano
singer nudged the girl at her side; they both glanced at him and
tittered, but he did not notice it.

Sylvia knew that he was looking at her, but she never looked at him.
She sat soberly waving a little brown fan before her face; the light
curls stirred softly. She wondered what he thought of them; if he
considered them too young for her, and silly; but he did not see them
at all. He had no eye for details. And neither did she even hear his
fine tenor, still sweet and powerful, leading all the other male
voices when the choir stood up to sing. She thought only of Richard
himself.

After meeting, when she went down the aisle, several women had spoken
to her, inquired concerning her health, and told her, with wondering
eyes, that she looked well. Richard was far behind her, but she did
not look around. They very seldom accosted each other, unless it was
unavoidable, in any public place. Still, Sylvia, going out with
gentle flou