h coloring that had at times seemed almost too exuberant
into that delicate shell-like tint which is the perfection of nature's
painting. Her round white arms shone like Juno's, as the outlines were
revealed by the graceful motions which threw back the wide sleeves.
Her wealth of silken black hair was drawn smoothly back from her white
forehead, over her shapely head, and gathered into a simple knot behind.
Save a black brooch at her throat, she wore no ornaments--not even a
plain ring.

She rose as Harry came upon the piazza, and for a moment her face
was rigid with intensity of feeling. This evidence of emotion went
as quickly as it came, however, and she extended her hand with calm
dignity, saying simply:

"You have returned, Mr. Glen."

In his anxiety to so play the impassioned lover as to conceal the
recreancy he had fostered in his own heart, Harry did not notice the
coolness of this greeting. Then, too, his self-satisfaction had always
done him the invaluable service of preventing a ready perception of the
repellant attitudes of others.

He came forward eagerly to press a kiss upon her lips, but she checked
him with uplifted hand.

"O, the family's in there, are they?" said he, looking toward the open
windows of the parlor. "Well, what matter? Isn't it expected that a
fellow will kiss his affianced wife on his return, and not care who
knows it?"

He pointed to the old apple-tree where they had plighted their troth
that happy night, with a gesture and a look that was a reminder of their
former meeting and an invitation to go thither again. She comprehended,
but refused with a shudder, and, turning, motioned him to the farther
end of the piazza, to which she led the way, moving with a sweeping
gracefulness of carriage that Harry thought had wonderfully ripened and
perfected in the three months that had elapsed since their parting.

"'Fore gad," he said to himself. (This was a new addition to
his expletory vocabulary, which had accrued from Ned Burnleigh's
companionship.) "I'd like to put her alongside of one of the girls
that Ned's always talking about. I don't believe she's got her equal
anywhere."

Arriving at the end of the piazza he impetuously renewed his attempt at
an embrace, but her repulse was now unmistakable.

"Sit down," she said, pointing to a chair; "I have something to say to
you."

Harry's first thought was a rush of jealously. "Some rascal has
supplanted me," he said bitterly, but und