it. This was
done up carefully in a square of linen, pinned here and there. On the
bottom of the chest were several folds of white paper. Very slowly she
lifted out the parcel and opened it. The treasure was a gown; it was
of a heavy, satiny weave of linen, very yellow and creased. The bodice
was made without sleeves or neck, and the skirt was a kind of kilt
plaited affair; the whole effect was Greek, and, simple as it was, it
seemed beautiful to Robin after her year of dark, utilitarian
clothing. There was white underwear, and even white stockings, and a
pair of slippers.

Robin drew a long breath of delight, and laying all her finery upon
the table placed the irons over the tripod that she might smooth the
wrinkles out, and set about making the necessary alterations at once.
She worked rapidly in spite of her excitement, but the hours slipped
away.

"I must try it on," she said, "before Adam comes; there will be plenty
of time, and then I will put it away until--"

Shroud or wedding-gown? She did not finish the sentence. She dressed
slowly; but when she had finished she was startled to see that the
image in the glass was so much fairer than she had ever thought
herself. Suddenly she discovered, with something like a pang, that
there was no belt, and hurried back to the chest to look again.

As she twitched out the remaining layer of paper in her eagerness, a
long white satin ribbon dropped from it, and a little heap of fine
muslin lay on the floor of the chest. She caught up the ribbon with an
exclamation of delight and adjusted it with trembling fingers. Her
flushed cheeks and radiant eyes, the long heavy braid of hair, her
round white arms and shoulders, made her a vision of delight indeed.
When she had quite completed her toilet, she sat down by the chest to
inspect its last secret. As she took up the pile of lace and muslin,
her heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. She had forgotten. Only
the hands of the prospective mother could have fashioned such dainty
garments as these. Everywhere the eternal question. All her
perplexities had fallen from her in the joy of dressing herself as
Adam's bride should be decked, howbeit Adam saw her not, but the great
problem of life confronted her still.

She put the tiny garments down on the chest, closed now, having given
up its mystery, its hope of the world, and knelt by it, touching them
with loving, reverent fingers till the tears blinded her, and she
gathered