The Rector of St. Marks

The cold hard woman, who had brought this grief upon her niece, could

only answer that it did not matter.

She was not very sorry, although she had wished her to marry Mr.

Hastings, but she must not fret about that, or about anything. She

would be better by and by, and forget that she ever cared for Arthur

Leighton.

"At least," and she spoke entreatingly now, "you will not demean

yourself to let him know of the mistake. It would scarcely be womanly,

and he may have gotten over it. Present circumstances would seem to

prove as much."

Mrs. Meredith felt that her secret was comparatively safe, and, with

her spirits lightened, she kissed her niece lovingly and told her of a

trip to Europe which she had in view, promising that if she went Anna

should go with her and so not be at home when the marriage of Arthur

and Lucy took place.

It was appointed for the 15th of January, that being the day when Lucy

came of age, and the very afternoon succeeding Anna's interview with

Mr. Hastings the little lady came down to New York to direct her

bridal trousseau making in the city.

She was brimming over with happiness, and her face was a perfect gleam

of sunshine when she came next day to Anna's room, and, throwing off

her wrappings, plunged at once into the subject uppermost in her

thoughts, telling first how she and Arthur had quarreled.

"Not quarreled as Uncle and Aunt Hetherton and lots of people do, but

differed so seriously that I cried, and had to give up, too," she

said. "I wanted you for bridesmaid, and, do you think, he objected!

Not objected to you, but to bridesmaids generally, and he carried his

point, so that unless Fanny is married at the same time, as, perhaps,

she will be, we are just to stand up stiff and straight alone, except

as you'll all be round me in the aisle. You'll be well by that time,

and I want you very near to me," Lucy said, squeezing fondly the icy

hand whose coldness made her start and exclaim: "Why, Anna, how cold you are, and how pale you are looking! You have

been so sick, and I am well. It don't seem quite right, does it? And

Arthur, too, is looking thin and worn--so thin that I have coaxed him

to raise whiskers to cover the hollows in his cheeks. He looks a heap

better now, though he was always handsome. I do so wonder that you two

never fell in love, and I tell him so most every time I see him."

It was terrible to Anna to sit and hear all this, and the room grew

dark as she listened; but she forced back her pain, and, stroking the

curly head almost resting in her lap, said kindly: "You love him very much, don't you, darling; so much that it would be

hard to give him up?"