sant exposure, the light generally made it a
winsome place to look at. Now, in this October weather, it came in
mellow and golden from a softened sun and changing foliage; the brown
wood and white walls and dark old furniture and rich bindings of books,
all mingled in the sunlight to make a rich sunny picture.

There were pictures outside too and pleasant ones. From the south
window, straight down the street, the houses and trees and the brown
spire of the Methodist church stretched away--roofs and gable ends and
the enormous tufty heads of the elm trees that half hung over them. At
the back of these houses, the eye went uninterruptedly over meadows and
fields to the belt of woods which skirted at a little distance the line
of the shore from the Lighthouse to Barley Point--here and there a
break through which a schooner might be seen standing up or down the
Sound; elsewhere only its topsails might be discerned above the woods.
The western window took in the break where Barley Point lay; and
further on in the southwest a distant glimpse of the Sound, with the
little brown line of Monongatesak Point. The lane leading to the shore
ran off due west, with houses, gardens, orchards, bordering it and
spotting the country generally. A fair country--level and rich--all the
range west and northwest was uninterrupted smooth fields; the eye had
full sweep to the wide horizon; the dotting of trees, barns and houses,
only enriched it, giving the sweet air of peaceful and happy occupation.

Faith's place was the deep low sill, or seat, of that western window.
There often Faith's book rested, while on the floor before it the
reader sat. This time the book was near finished, and a few more leaves
turned over changed the 'near' into 'quite.' Faith stood then
considering the books. The name of Prescott on another volume had
tempted her, for she had taken it down and considered the title page;
before settling to it, Faith laid her hand on one of another set not
yet much examined; a set of particular outside beauty. But what was the
inside? For Faith stood by the cupboard door, not looking here and
there, but leaf by leaf walking into the middle of the book. Faith
rested the volume on the shelf and turned over more leaves; and at last
dropped down by her window seat, laid the book there, put her cheek on
her hand as usual, a cheek already flushed, and lost herself in the
very beams of the afternoon sun.

It might have been a dream, it mig