There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. The lace was family lace, easily recognizable. “Next door,” said a spectacled young person of seventeen or eighteen, with an impatient indication of the direction. Her features were still slightly marked by the disorder alluded to in the description of her as a child,—but that was the only drawback to her beauty. The watermen, who manned the larger wherry, immediately shipped their oars, grappled with the drifting skiff, and held it fast. The door of cabin 2 was open. To have the present lengthen into years! But in a few hours she would be upon her way, far lonelier than she had ever been.
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