at the white
songstress whose scarlet sash and neck-ribbons gleamed in such vivid
contrast to the foliage about her. A wondering little "cotton-tail"
rabbit, shy and wild as a hawk, came darting through the bushes into the
sunshiny patchwork on the path, and then, uptilted and with quivering
ears and nostrils and wide-staring eyes, stood paralyzed with helpless
amaze, ignoring the tall man in gray as did the singer herself. Richer,
rounder, fuller grew the melody, as, abandoning herself to the impulse
of the sacred hour, she joined with all her girlish heart in the words
of praise and thanksgiving,--in the glad and triumphant chorus of the Te
Deum. From beginning to end she sang, now ringing and exultant, now soft
and plaintive, following the solemn words of the ritual,--sweet and low
and suppliant in the petition, "We therefore pray Thee help Thy servants
whom Thou hast redeemed with Thy precious blood," confident and exulting
in the declaration, "Thou art the King of Glory, O Christ," and then
rich with fearless trust and faith in the thrilling climax, "Let me
never be confounded." Armitage listened as one in a trance. From the
depth of her heart the girl had joined her glorious voice to the chorus
of praise and adoration, and now that all was stilled once more her head
had fallen forward on her bosom, her hands, laden with golden-rod, were
joined together: it seemed as though she were lost in prayer.

And this was the girl, this the pure, God-worshipping, God-fearing
woman, who for one black instant he had dared to fancy had come here
expectant of a meeting with the man whose aim had been frustrated but
the night before! He could have thrown himself at her feet and implored
her pardon. He _did_ step forth, and then, hat in hand, baring his
proud Saxon head as his forefathers would have uncovered to their
monarch, he waited until she lifted up her eyes and saw him, and knew by
the look in his frank face that he had stood by, a mute listener to her
unstudied devotions. A lovely flush rose to her very temples, and her
eyes drooped their pallid lids until the long lashes swept the crimson
of her cheeks.

"Have _you_ been here, captain? I never saw you," was her fluttering
question.

"I rode in here on my way back from the station, not caring to meet all
the good people going to church. I felt like an outcast."

"I, too, am a recreant to-day. It is the first time I have missed
service in a long while. Mamma felt too u