in the morning, do
you not?"

"Yes, always," replied Mercy.

"Then, if you are willing, I would like sometimes to walk with you," said
Stephen.

"I like it very much, Mr. White," answered Mercy, eagerly. "I used to walk
a great deal with Mr. Allen, and I miss it sadly."

A jealous pang shot through Stephen's heart. He had been blind. This was
the reason Harley Allen had taken such interest in finding a home for Mrs.
Philbrick and her mother. He remembered now that he had thought at the
time some of the expressions in his friend's letter argued an unusual
interest in the young widow. Of course no man could know Mercy without
loving her. Stephen was wretched; but no trace of it showed on the serene
and smiling face with which he bade Mercy "Good-by," and ran up his
office-stairs three steps at a time.

All day Mercy went about her affairs with a new sense of impulse and
cheer. It was not a conscious anticipation of the morrow: she did not say
to herself "To-morrow morning I shall see him for half an hour." Love
knows the secret of true joy better than that. Love throws open wider
doors,--lifts a great veil from a measureless vista: all the rest of life
is transformed into one shining distance; every present moment is but a
round in a ladder whose top disappears in the skies, from which angels are
perpetually descending to the dreamer below.

The next morning Mercy saw Stephen leave the house even earlier than
usual. Her first thought was one of blank disappointment. "Why, I thought
he meant to walk down with me," she said to herself. Her second thought
was a perplexed instinct of the truth: "I wonder if he can be afraid to
have his mother see him with me?" At this thought, Mercy's face burned,
and she tried to banish it; but it would not be banished, and by the time
her morning duties were done, and she had set out on her walk, the matter
had become quite clear in her mind.

"I shall see him at the corner where he was yesterday," she said.

But no Stephen was there. Spite of herself, Mercy lingered and looked
back. She was grieved and she was vexed.

"Why did he say he wanted to walk with me, and then the very first morning
not come?" she said, as she walked slowly into the village.

It was a cloudy day, and the clouds seemed to harmonize with Mercy's mood.
She did her errands in a half-listless way; and more than one of the
tradespeople, who had come to know her voice and smile, wondered what had
gone wrong