it for me. It doesn’t matter now. Indeed, I don’t think it matters,” she added, “how one looks behind.” “I should say it mattered more,” said Gertrude. “Then you don’t know who may be observing you. You are not on your guard. You can’t try to look pretty.” Charlotte received this declaration with extreme gravity. “I don’t think one should ever try to look pretty,” she rejoined, earnestly. Her companion was silent. Then she said, “Well, perhaps it’s not of much use.” Charlotte looked at her a little, and then kissed her. “I hope you will be better when we come back.” “My dear sister, I am very well!” said Gertrude. Charlotte went down the large brick walk to the garden gate; her companion strolled slowly toward the house. At the gate Charlotte met a young man, who was coming in—a tall, fair young man, wearing a high hat and a pair of thread gloves. He was handsome, but rather too stout. He had a pleasant smile. “Oh, Mr. Brand!” exclaimed the young lady. “I came to see whether your sister was not going to church,” said the young man. “She says she is not going; but I am very glad you have come. I think if you were to talk to her a little”.... And Charlotte lowered her voice. “It seems as if she were restless.” Mr. Brand smiled down on the young lady from his great height. “I shall be very glad to talk to her. For that I should be willing to absent myself from almost any occasion of worship, however attractive.” “Well, I suppose you know,” said Charlotte, softly, as if positive acceptance of this proposition might be dangerous. “But I am afraid I shall be late.” “I hope you will have a pleasant sermon,” said the young man. “Oh, Mr. Gilman is always pleasant,” Charlotte answered. And she went on her way. Mr. Brand went into the garden, where Gertrude, hearing the gate close behind him, turned and looked at him. For a moment she watched him coming; then she turned away. But almost immediately she corrected this movement, and stood still, facing him. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead as he approached. Then he put on his hat again and held out his hand. His hat being removed, you would have perceived that his forehead was very large and smooth, and his hair abundant but rather colorless. His nose was too large, and his mouth and eyes were too small; but for all this he was, as I have said, a young man of striking appearance. The expression of his little clean-colored blue eyes was irresistibly gentle and serious; he looked, as the phrase is, as good as gold. The young girl, standing in the garden path, glanced, as he came up, at his thread gloves. “I hoped you were going to church,” he said. “I wanted to walk with you.” “I am very much obliged to you,” Gertrude answered. “I am not going to church.” She had shaken hands with him; he held her 

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