Ethel's good morning says in D major `How good is the day!' and her good night drops into the minor third, and says pensively `How sweet is the night!'""Nay, Ruth, I don't understand all that; but I do understand the voice. It goes straight to my heart.""And to my heart also, Edward. I think too there is a measured music, a central time and tune, in every life. Quick, melodious natures like Ethel's never wander far from their keynote, and are therefore joyously set; while slow, irresolute people deviate far, and only come back after painful dissonances and frequent changes.""You are generally right, Ruth, even where I cannot follow you. I hope Ethel will be home for dinner. I like my Sunday dinner with both of you, and I may bring my mother back with me."Then he said "Good morning" with an intentional cheerfulness, and Ruth was left alone with her book. She gave a moment's thought to the value of good example, and then with a sigh of content let her eyes rest on the words Ethel's presence had for awhile silenced:
"I am filled with a sense of sweetness and wonder that such, little things can make a mortal so exceedingly rich. But I confess that the chiefest of all my delights is still the religious." (Theodore Parker.) She read the words again, then closed her eyes and let the honey of some sacred memory satisfy her soul.
And in those few minutes of reverie, Ruth Bayard revealed the keynote of her being.
Wanderings from it, caused by the exigencies and duties of life, frequently occurred; but she quickly returned to its central and controlling harmony; and her serenity and poise were therefore as natural as was her niece's joyousness and hope. Nor was her religious character the result of temperament, or of a secluded life. Ruth Bayard was a woman of thought and culture, and wise in the ways of the world, but not worldly. Her personality was very attractive, she had a good form, an agreeable face, speaking gray eyes, and brown hair, soft and naturally wavy. She was a distant cousin of Ethel's mother, but had been brought up with her in the same household, and always regarded her as a sister, and Ethel never remembered that she was only her aunt by adoption. Ten years older than her niece, she had mothered her with a wise and loving patience, and her thoughts never wandered long or far from the girl.
Consequently, she soon found herself wondering what reason there could be for Dora Denning's urgency.
In the meantime Ethel had reached her friend's residence a new building of unusual size and very ornate architecture. Liveried footmen and waiting women bowed her with mute attention to Miss Denning's suite, an absolutely private arrangement of five rooms, marvelously furnished for the young lady's comfort and delight. The windows of her parlor overlooked the park, and she was standing at one of them as Ethel entered the room. In a passion of welcoming gladness she turned to her, exclaiming: "I have been watching for you hours and hours, Ethel. Ihave the most wonderful thing to tell you. I am so happy! So happy! No one was ever as happy as I am."Then Ethel took both her hands, and, as they stood together, she looked intently at her friend. Some new charm transfigured her face; for her dark, gazelle eyes were not more lambent than her cheeks, though in a different way; while her black hair in its picturesquely arranged disorder seemed instinct with life, and hardly to be restrained. She was constantly pushing it back, caressing or arranging it; and her white, slender fingers, sparkling with jewels, moved among the crimped and wavy locks, as if there was an intelligent sympathy between them.
"How beautiful you are to-day, Dora!
Who has worked wonders on you?"
"Basil Stanhope. He loves me! He loves me! He told me so last night--in the sweetest words that were ever uttered. I shall never forget one of them--never, as long as I live!
Let us sit down. I want to tell you everything.""I am astonished, Dora!"
"So was mother, and father, and Bryce.
No one suspected our affection. Mother used to grumble about my going `at all hours' to St. Jude's church; but that was because St.
Jude's is so very High Church, and mother is a Methodist Episcopal. It was the morning and evening prayers she objected to. No one had any suspicion of the clergyman. Oh, Ethel, he is so handsome! So good! So clever! I think every woman in the church is in love with him.""Then if he is a good man, he must be very unhappy.""Of course he is quite ignorant of their admiration, and therefore quite innocent. Iam the only woman he loves, and he never even remembers me when he is in the sacred office. If you could see him come out of the vestry in his white surplice, with his rapt face and prophetic eyes. So mystical! So beautiful!
You would not wonder that I worship him."
"But I do not understand--how did you meet him socially?""I met him at Mrs. Taylor's first. Then he spoke to me one morning as I came out of church, and the next morning he walked through the park with me. And after that--all was easy enough."
"I see. What does your father and mother think--or rather, what do they say?""Father always says what he thinks, and mother thinks and says what I do. This condition simplified matters very much. Basil wrote to father, and yesterday after dinner he had an interview with him. I expected it, and was quite prepared for any climax that might come. I wore my loveliest white frock, and had lilies of the valley in my hair and on my breast; and father called me `his little angel' and piously wondered `how I could be his daughter.' All dinner time I tried to be angelic, and after dinner I sang `Little Boy Blue' and some of the songs he loves; and Ifelt, when Basil's card came in, that I had prepared the proper atmosphere for the interview.""You are really very clever, Dora."
