hered old face which looked up at her so sadly.

"God grant it! God grant it!" murmured the old woman as she rose. "Now
comes the veil and the wreath, but I am too clumsy for that, Miss
Gertrude--but, ah, here is Mrs. Fredericks."

Jenny entered through the young girl's sitting-room. She wore a dress
of deep black transparent crepe, and a white camellia rested on the
soft light braids. She was deathly pale and her eyes were red with
weeping.

"I will help you, Gertrude," she said, languidly, beginning to fasten
the veil on her sister's brown hair. "Do you remember how you put on my
wreath, Gertrude? Ah, if one could only know at such a time what
dreadful grief was coming!"

"Jenny," entreated Gertrude, "don't give yourself up to your grief so.
When I came down when Walter died, and Arthur was holding you so
tenderly in his arms I thought what great comfort you had in each
other. That is after all the greatest happiness, when two people can
stand by each other, in sorrow and trial."

"Oh," said Jenny, her lip curling disdainfully; "I assure you Arthur is
half-comforted already. He can talk of other things, he can eat and
drink and go to business, he can even play euchre. Wonderful happiness
it is indeed!"

"Ah, Jenny, you cannot expect him to feel the grief that a mother does,
he--"

"Oh, you will find it out too," interrupted the young wife. "Men are
all selfish."

Gertrude rose suddenly from her chair. She was silent, but her eyes
rested reproachfully on her sister as if to say, "Is that the blessing
you give me to take with me?"

But her lips said only, "Not all, I know better."

Jenny stood in some embarrassment. "I must go down to Arthur now or he
will never be ready at the right time, and then it will be time for me
to come up to receive the guests."

The train of her dress swept over the carpet like a dark shadow as she
went.

Gertrude sat down for a while in the deep window. The white silk fell
in shimmering folds about her beautiful figure, and the grave young
face looked out from the misty veil as from a cloud. She folded her
hands and looked at her father's picture. "I will take you with me
to-night, papa." And her thoughts flew off to the quiet country-house.
She did not know it yet. Only once, when she had driven through the
village on a picnic, had she seen a sharp-gabled roof and gray walls
rising up among the trees. Who would have thought that this would one
day be her home!

She felt