her did
untiringly--ungrudgingly. It was the one exquisite pleasure which each
day contained for her; and into it she gathered and poured her whole
natural, honest, childlike desire for pleasure. No matter if all the
rest of the day were work, the flower of delight that blossomed on this
one stem was sweet enough to take the place of a whole nosegay, and it
beautified Esther's whole life. It hardly made the child less sober
outwardly, but it did much to keep her inner life fresh and sound.

Pitt this time did not allow it to be supposed that he had forgotten
his friends. Once in a while he wrote to Colonel Gainsborough, and sent
a message or maybe included a little note for Esther herself. These
messages and notes regarded often her studies; but toward the end of
term there began to be mention made of England also in them; and
Esther's heart sank very low. What would be left when Pitt was gone to
England?

CHAPTER X.

_THE BLESSING_.

So spring came, and then high summer, and the time when the collegian
was expected home. The roses were blossoming and the pinks were sweet,
in the old-fashioned flower garden in front of the house; and the smell
of the hay came from the fields where mowers were busy, and the trill
of a bob-o'-link sounded in the meadow. It was evening when Pitt made
his way from his father's house over to the colonel's; and he found
Esther sitting in the verandah, with all this sweetness about her. The
house was old and country fashioned; the verandah was raised but a step
above the ground,--low, and with slim little pillars to support its
roof; and those pillars were all there was between Esther and the
flowers. At one side of the house there was a lawn; in front, the space
devoted to the flowers was only a small strip of ground, bordered by
the paling fence and the road. Pitt opened a small gate, and came up to
the house, through an army of balsams, hollyhocks, roses, and
honeysuckles, and balm and southernwood. Esther had risen to her feet,
and with her book in her hand, stood awaiting him. Her appearance
struck him as in some sense new. She looked pale, he thought, and the
mental tension of the moment probably made it true, but it was not
merely that. There was a refined, ethereal gravity and beauty, which it
is very unusual to see in a girl of thirteen; an expression too
spiritual for years which ought to be full of joyous and careless
animal life. Nevertheless it was there, and it struc