she followed
her father and mother up the aisle one Sunday in May when all the
orchards were white. He thought, with a great throb of joy, that she
looked quite well, that she must be well. If the red and white of her
cheeks was a little too clear, he did not appreciate it. She was all
in white, like the trees, with some white blossoms and plumes on her
hat.

After meeting, he lingered a little on the porch, though Elmira was
walking on, with frequent pauses turning her head and looking for
him. However, when Lucina appeared, he did not get the kindly glance
for which he had hoped. She was talking so busily with Mrs. Doctor
Prescott that she did not seem to see him, but the color on her
cheeks was deeper. Jerome joined his sister hastily and went home
quite contented, thinking Lucina was very well.

However, in a few weeks' time he began to hear whispers to the
contrary. Sometimes Lucina did not go to meeting; still, she was seen
out frequently riding and walking. When Jerome caught a glimpse of
her he strove to shut away the knowledge that she did not look well
from his own consciousness. But when Lucina had been at home six
weeks she took a sudden turn for the better, which could have been
dated accurately from a certain morning when she met Colonel Jack
Lamson, she being out riding and he walking. He kept pace with the
slow amble of her little white horse for some distance, sometimes
grasping the bridle and stopping in a shady place to talk more at
ease.

When Lucina got home that noon her mother noticed a change in her.
"You look better than you have done for weeks," said she.

"I enjoyed my ride," Lucina said, with a smile and a blush which her
mother could not fathom. The girl ate a dinner which gladdened her
father's heart; afterwards she went up to her chamber, and presently
came down with her hat on and her silk work-bag on her arm.

"I am going to take one of my chair-covers over to Aunt Camilla's,"
said she.

"Well, walk slowly," said her mother, trying to conceal her delight
lest it betray her past anxiety. Lucina had not touched her
embroidery for weeks, nor stepped out-of-doors of her own accord.

When she was gone her father and mother looked at each other. "She's
better," Eben said, with a catch in his voice.

"I haven't seen her so bright for weeks," replied Abigail. She had a
puzzled look in spite of her satisfaction. That night she ascertained
through wariest soundings that Lucina had not