f a tortured body. The faces of the holy ones are calm and
their souls serene.

A little farm-house stood back from the road just behind the seat
where Beth was sitting, and a tall gaunt elderly man, with a beard on
his chin, came out presently and stood staring grimly at the sunrise.
Then he crossed the road deliberately, sat down at the other end of
the seat, and stared at Beth.

"You're early out," he said at last.

Beth detected something hostile in the tone, and fixed her big
fearless grey eyes upon him defiantly. "It's a free country," she
said.

"Free or not," he answered drily, "it isn't fit fur no young gell to
be out alone at sechun a time. Ye should be indoors gettin' the
breakfast."

"Thank you," said Beth, "I've no need to get the breakfast."

"Well, it makes it all the worse," he rejoined; "fur if ye're by way
o' bein' a lady, it not on'y means that ye're out wi' no one to tak'
care of ye, but that ye've niver been taught to tak' care o' yerself.
Lady!" he ejaculated. "Pride and patches! Tak' my advice, _lady_, go
back to yer bed, get yer meed o' sleep, wak' up refreshed, and set to
work."

He spat on the grass in a self-satisfied way when he had spoken, and
contemplated the sunrise like a man who has done his duty and earned
the right to repose.

Beth got up and walked home despondently. She climbed in at the
acting-room window, and went to her own room. The sun was shining on
the apple-blossom in the orchard opposite, and she looked for the
charm of yesterday, but finding only the garish commonplace of
fruit-trees in flower with the sun on them, she drew down the blind.
Then she took off her hat and jacket, threw herself on her bed, and
fell into a heavy sleep, with her brow puckered and the corners of her
mouth drooping discontentedly.

The next night she determined to take her meed of sleep, and did not
tie the string to her toe. It had been a long lonely day, filled with
great dissatisfaction and vague yearnings for companionship; but when
she fell asleep she had a happy dream, so vivid that it seemed more
real than anything she had seen in her morning ramble. It was eight
o'clock in the evening, she dreamt, and there was some one waiting for
her under the pear-tree in the garden. The night air was fresh and
fragrant. The moonlight shone on the white blossoms overhead, which
clustered so close that no ray penetrated to the ground beneath, so
that there all was shadowy, but still she could