congregation arose for the
hymns and faced about towards the singers, then did Dorothy let her
blue eyes seek, with an innocent unconsciousness, as of blue flowers,
which would have deceived the very elect, Eugene's face.

But his black eyes met hers with no more fiery glances. Eugene never
even looked at her, but sang, with stern averted face, which was
paler and thinner than Dorothy's, though he had had no illness save
of the spirit. In vain Dorothy sought his eyes, with her blue
appealing ones, during every hymn; in vain once or twice during the
sermon she even cast a glance around her shoulder with a slight fling
of her curls aside, and a little shiver, as if she felt a draught.
Eugene never looked her way that she could see.

When the long service was over, Dorothy, with sly, watchful eyes,
quickened her pace, and strove so to manage that she and Eugene
should emerge from the meeting-house side by side. But he was
striding far ahead, with never a backward glance, when she came out,
lifting daintily her pearly skirts. Burr was near her, but him she
never thought of, even to avoid, and his mother's stately aside
movement was not even seen by her. She courtesied prettily to those
who met her face to face, from force of habit, and went on thinking
of no one but Eugene.

Again, in the afternoon, Dorothy went to meeting, though her pulses
began to beat, with a slight return of the fever, and again she
strove with her cunning maiden wiles to attract this obdurate Eugene,
and again in vain. That night Dorothy lay and wept awhile before she
fell asleep, and dreamed that she and Eugene were a-walking in the
lane and that he kissed her. And when she awoke, blushing in the
darkness, she resolved that she would go a-walking in the lane on
every pleasant day, in the hope that the dream might come true.

And Mistress Dorothy Fair, with many eyes in the neighbors' windows
watching, went pacing slowly, for her delicate limbs as yet did not
bear her strongly, day after day down the road and into the lane,
and, with frequent rests upon wayside stones, to the farther end of
it. And yet she did not meet Eugene therein, and her dream did not
come true.

But it happened at last, about the middle of the month of June, when
the great red and white roses in the dooryards were in such full
bloom that in another day they would be past it and fall, that
Dorothy and Eugene met in the lane; for there is room enough in time
for most dream