The Rector of St. Marks

"I could tell them something if I would," she thought, as she bent

over the hemlock boughs and listened to the remarks; but, for that

time, she kept the secret and worked on moodily, while the

unsuspecting Lucy went her way and was soon alighting at the rectory

gate.

Arthur saw her as she came up the walk and went to meet her.

He was looking very pale and miserable, and his clothes hung loosely

upon him; but he welcomed her kindly leading her in to the fire, and

trying to believe that he was glad to see her sitting there with her

little high-heeled boots upon the fender and the bright hues of her

Balmoral just showing beneath her dress of blue merino.

She went all over the house, as she usually did, suggesting

alterations and improvements, and greatly confusing good Mrs. Brown,

who trudged obediently after her, wondering what she and her master

were ever to do with that gay-plumaged bird, whose ways were so unlike

their own.

"You must drive with me to the church," she said at last to Arthur,

"Fresh air will do you good, and you stay moped up too much. I wanted

you to-day at Prospect Hill, for this morning's express from New York

brought----"

She stood up on tiptoe to whisper the great news to him, but his

pulses did not quicken in the least, even when she told him how

charming was the bridal dress. He was standing before the mirror and,

glancing at himself, he said, half laughingly, half sadly: "I am a pitiful-looking bridegroom to go with all that finery: I

should not think you would want me, Lucy."

"But I do," she answered, holding his hand and leading him to the

carriage, which took him to the church.

He had not intended going there as long as there was an excuse for

staying away, and he felt himself grow sick and faint when he stood

amid the Christmas decorations and remembered the last year when he

and Anna had fastened the wreaths upon the wall.

They were trimming the church very elaborately in honor of him and his

bride, and white artificial flowers, so natural that they could not be

detected, were mingled with scarlet leaves and placed among the mass

of green. The effect was very fine and Arthur tried to praise it, but

his face belied his words; and, after he was gone, the disappointed

girls declared that he acted more like a man about to be hung than one

so soon to be married.

It was very late that night when Lucy summoned Valencia to comb out

her long, thick curls, and Valencia was tired, and cross, and sleepy,

handling the brush so awkwardly and snarling her mistress's hair so

often that Lucy expostulated with her sharply, and this awoke the

slumbering demon, which, bursting into full life, could no longer be

restrained; and, in amazement, which kept her silent, Lucy listened

while Valencia taunted her "with standing in Anna Ruthven's shoes,"

and told her all she knew of the letter stolen by Mrs. Meredith, and

the one she carried to Arthur. But Valencia's anger quickly cooled,

and she trembled with fear when she saw how deathly white her mistress

grew at first and heard the loud beating of her heart, which seemed

trying to burst from its prison and fall bleeding at the feet of the

poor, wretched girl, around whose lips the white foam gathered as she

motioned Valencia to stop and whispered: "I am dying!"