months before, while
during that time she had grown much taller, and gave promise of
attaining unusual height and symmetry.

The dress of Marie-Louise blue merino was relieved at the throat by a
neatly crimped ruffle, and, as in days of yore, she wore the white
apron with pretty pockets, and ruffled bands passing over her
shoulders and down to the belt behind, where broad strings of linen
were looped into a bow. Her abundant hair was plaited in two long
thick braids, and passed twice around her head, forming a jet
coronal, and imparting a peculiarly classic contour.

There was in this quiet fowlyard scene something so innocent, so
peaceful, that it was inexpressibly soothing and attractive to the
man who stood beneath the lilac boughs, jaded with unremitting study,
and laden with wearying schemes of future labour. Douglass Lindsay
was only twenty-five, but the education and habits of a theological
student had stamped a degree of gravity on his handsome face, which
was doubtless enhanced by a slight yet undeniable baldness.

Closely resembling his mother, except in the brownness of his fine
eyes, his countenance lacked the magnetic warmth and merry shifting
lights that rendered hers so pleasant, yet none who looked earnestly
upon it could doubt for an instant that he would prove a stanch,
faithful, worthy ensign of that Banner of Peace, which Jesus unfurled
among the olive-girdled hills of holy Judea.

With no leprous taint of bigotry to sully his soul, blur his vision,
or cramp his sphere of action, the broad stream of Christian charity
flowed from his noble, generous heart, sweeping away obstacles that
would have impeded the usefulness of a minister less catholic in
sympathy, more hampered by creed ligaments and denominational
fetters. To an almost womanly tenderness and susceptibility regarding
the sufferings of his fellow-creatures, he united an inflexible
adherence to the dictates of justice and the rigorous promptings of
conscience; and while devoutly yielding allegiance solely to the
Triune God, to whose service he had reverently dedicated his young
life, there were times when in almost ascetic self-abnegation he
unconsciously bowed down to that stem-lipped, stony Teraph who,
under the name of "Duty," sat a cowled and shrouded idol in the
secret oratory of his unselfish heart. Are there not seasons when
even the most orthodox wonder whether the _Dii Involuti_ passed away
for ever, with the _paterae_ and _fib