with the cheery young lady. All the way home she looked vainly
for Stephen at every cross-street. She fancied she heard his step behind
her; she fancied she saw his tall figure in the distance. After she
reached home and the expectation was over for that day, she took herself
angrily to task for her folly. She reminded herself that Stephen had said
"sometimes," not "always;" and that nothing could have been more unlikely
than that he should have joined her the very next day. Nevertheless, she
was full of uneasy wonder how soon he would come again; and, when the next
morning dawned clear and bright, her first thought as she sprang up was,--

"This is such a lovely day for a walk! He will surely come to-day."

Again she was disappointed. Stephen left the house at a very early hour,
and walked briskly away without looking back. Mercy forced herself to go
through her usual routine of morning work. She was systematic almost to a
fault in the arrangement of her time, and any interference with her hours
was usually a severe trial of her patience. But to-day it was only by a
great effort of her will that she refrained from setting out earlier than
usual for the village. She walked rapidly until she approached the street
where Stephen had joined her before. Then she slackened her pace, and
fixed her eyes on the street. No person was to be seen in it. She walked
slower and slower: she could not believe that he was not there. Then she
began to fear that she had come a little too early. She turned to retrace
her steps; but a sudden sense of shame withheld her, and she turned back
again almost immediately, and continued her course towards the village,
walking very slowly, and now and then halting and looking back. Still no
Stephen. Street after street she passed: no Stephen. A sort of indignant
grief swelled up in Mercy's bosom; she was indignant with herself, with
him, with circumstances, with everybody; she was unreasoning and
unreasonable; she longed so to see Stephen's face that she could not think
clearly of any thing else. And yet she was ashamed of this longing. All
these struggling emotions together were too much for her; tears came into
her eyes; then vexation at the tears made them come all the faster; and,
for the first time in her life, Mercy Philbrick pulled her veil over her
face to hide that she was crying. Almost in the very moment that she had
done this, she heard a quick step behind her, and Stephen's voice
calling,