ighteen, poor
child, and so much is possible for young persons of eighteen.

The weeks flew by--busy dreams; March passed, April passed. The wedding
day was drawing very near. May came, mellow with sweet spring blossoms
and sunshine, and the first half was over. The first Thursday in June
was to be the day of days, not quite a fortnight off now. The world had
woke up for her wedding, Norine thought, snow and dreariness were gone,
spring, in Eden-like freshness and bloom was with them. All day long the
birds sang in the sunlight; the garden was gay with odorous grasses and
blossoms. In three days more the bridegroom would be here to claim his
bride, to leave no more until he bore her away by his side. Yes, it was
a new Eden. Kent Hill in its spring-tide resurrection, but, as once
before, the serpent was close at hand.

CHAPTER VII.

THE GATHERING STORM.

The last week came--the last night of the last week.

A radiant moonlight night. Over the blue misty hill-tops the silver
half-moon sailed, and at the garden gate stood the pretty bride elect,
alone, gazing with eyes of dreamy darkness at the mystic light. No sound
but the "sounds of the silence" broke her reverie, the twitter of a bird
in its nest, the light flutter of the cool wind, the slipping of a snake
in the underbrush. Green and silvery spread the wide fields of Kent
Hill; dark, cool and perfumy the pine woods, long and white the dusty,
high road--over all the sparkling stars and crystal moon.

Leaning on the gate, stood Norine. A trifle thinner and paler than of
old, very pale in the cold, white moon-rays, but very fair and sweet the
_mignonne_ face. Something almost pathetic in the pallid beauty of the
night touched her, the great dark eyes looked with wistful sadness up to
the starry sky. She stood there thinking of the new life to begin in a
few days now--the life that seemed to recede and grow more and more
unreal the nearer it came. Its novelty and brightness blinded her no
more--distance had lent enchantment to the view--to-night she only knew
she was about to marry a man she did not love.

The past arose before her. Laurence Thorndyke's smiling, cynical,
handsome face floated in the haze like a vision, her girl's fancy
returned with tenfold sweetness and power. If he were only to be the
bridegroom on Thursday next! A passionate longing to see him once more,
to hear his voice, filled her whole soul with unutterable desire. In the
moonlight