t, removed. She told herself all the time that the obstacles
on her own were still far from removed. She asked herself how could
she, even if this man loved her and wished to marry her, allow him
to support all her family, although he might be able to do so. She
often told herself that she ought perhaps to have pride enough to
refuse, and yet she watched for him to come. She had reflected at
first that it was, of course, impossible for him to seem to take
advantage of the deaths which had left him with this independence,
that he must stay away for a while from motives of delicacy; but now
the months were going, and she began to wonder if he never would
come. Every night, when she took off the pretty, red silk waist,
donned in vain, and let down her fair lengths of hair, it was with
a sinking of her heart, and a sense of incredulous unhappiness.
Ellen had always had a sort of sanguinity of happiness and of the
petting of Providence as well as of her friends. However, the girl
had, in spite of her childlike trust in the beauty of her life,
plenty of strength to meet its refutal, and a pride equal to her
grandmother's. In case Robert Lloyd should never approach her again,
she would try to keep one face of her soul always veiled to her
inmost consciousness.

The next evening she was careful not to put on her red silk waist,
but changed her shop dress for her old blue woollen, and only
smoothed her hair. She even went to bed early in order to prove to
her mother that she expected nobody.

"You ain't goin' to bed as early as this, Ellen?" her mother said,
as she lighted her lamp.

"Yes, I'm going to bed and read."

"Seems as if somebody might be in," said Fanny, awkwardly.

"I don't know who," Ellen returned, with a gentle haughtiness.

Andrew colored. He was at his usual task of paring apples. Andrew,
in lieu of regular work outside, assisted in these household tasks,
that his wife might have more time to sew. He looked unusually worn
and old that night.

"If anybody does come, Ellen will have to get up, that's all," said
Fanny, when the girl had gone up-stairs. Then she pricked up her
ears, for the electric-car had stopped before the house. Then it
went on, with a sharp clang of the bell and a gathering rush of
motion.

"That car stopped," Fanny said, breathlessly, her work falling from
her fingers. Andrew and she both listened intently, then footsteps
were heard plainly coming around the path at the side of the