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“
He
ain
’
t
come
back
since
supper
,
”
Verena
said
.
“
He
’
s
down
to
the
Hall
.
”
Charity
took
no
notice
.
Her
soul
was
still
winging
through
the
forest
.
She
washed
her
plate
and
tumbler
,
and
then
felt
her
way
up
the
dark
stairs
.
When
she
opened
her
door
a
wonder
arrested
her
.
Before
going
out
she
had
closed
her
shutters
against
the
afternoon
heat
,
but
they
had
swung
partly
open
,
and
a
bar
of
moonlight
,
crossing
the
room
,
rested
on
her
bed
and
showed
a
dress
of
China
silk
laid
out
on
it
in
virgin
whiteness
.
Charity
had
spent
more
than
she
could
afford
on
the
dress
,
which
was
to
surpass
those
of
all
the
other
girls
;
she
had
wanted
to
let
North
Dormer
see
that
she
was
worthy
of
Harney
’
s
admiration
.
Above
the
dress
,
folded
on
the
pillow
,
was
the
white
veil
which
the
young
women
who
took
part
in
the
exercises
were
to
wear
under
a
wreath
of
asters
;
and
beside
the
veil
a
pair
of
slim
white
satin
shoes
that
Ally
had
produced
from
an
old
trunk
in
which
she
stored
mysterious
treasures
.
Charity
stood
gazing
at
all
the
outspread
whiteness
.
It
recalled
a
vision
that
had
come
to
her
in
the
night
after
her
first
meeting
with
Harney
.
She
no
longer
had
such
visions
.
.
.
warmer
splendours
had
displaced
them
.
.
.
but
it
was
stupid
of
Ally
to
have
paraded
all
those
white
things
on
her
bed
,
exactly
as
Hattie
Targatt
’
s
wedding
dress
from
Springfield
had
been
spread
out
for
the
neighbours
to
see
when
she
married
Tom
Fry
.
.
.
.
Charity
took
up
the
satin
shoes
and
looked
at
them
curiously
.
By
day
,
no
doubt
,
they
would
appear
a
little
worn
,
but
in
the
moonlight
they
seemed
carved
of
ivory
.
She
sat
down
on
the
floor
to
try
them
on
,
and
they
fitted
her
perfectly
,
though
when
she
stood
up
she
lurched
a
little
on
the
high
heels
.
She
looked
down
at
her
feet
,
which
the
graceful
mould
of
the
slippers
had
marvellously
arched
and
narrowed
.
She
had
never
seen
such
shoes
before
,
even
in
the
shop
-
windows
at
Nettleton
.
.
never
,
except
.
.
.
yes
,
once
,
she
had
noticed
a
pair
of
the
same
shape
on
Annabel
Balch
.
A
blush
of
mortification
swept
over
her
.
Ally
sometimes
sewed
for
Miss
Balch
when
that
brilliant
being
descended
on
North
Dormer
,
and
no
doubt
she
picked
up
presents
of
cast
-
off
clothing
:
the
treasures
in
the
mysterious
trunk
all
came
from
the
people
she
worked
for
;
there
could
be
no
doubt
that
the
white
slippers
were
Annabel
Balch
’
s
.
.
.
.
As
she
stood
there
,
staring
down
moodily
at
her
feet
,
she
heard
the
triple
click
-
click
-
click
of
a
bicycle
-
bell
under
her
window
.
It
was
Harney
’
s
secret
signal
as
he
passed
on
his
way
home
.
She
stumbled
to
the
window
on
her
high
heels
,
flung
open
the
shutters
and
leaned
out
.
He
waved
to
her
and
sped
by
,
his
black
shadow
dancing
merrily
ahead
of
him
down
the
empty
moonlit
road
;
and
she
leaned
there
watching
him
till
he
vanished
under
the
Hatchard
spruces
.
THE
Town
Hall
was
crowded
and
exceedingly
hot
.
As
Charity
marched
into
it
third
in
the
white
muslin
file
headed
by
Orma
Fry
,
she
was
conscious
mainly
of
the
brilliant
effect
of
the
wreathed
columns
framing
the
green
-
carpeted
stage
toward
which
she
was
moving
;
and
of
the
unfamiliar
faces
turning
from
the
front
rows
to
watch
the
advance
of
the
procession
.
But
it
was
all
a
bewildering
blur
of
eyes
and
colours
till
she
found
herself
standing
at
the
back
of
the
stage
,
her
great
bunch
of
asters
and
goldenrod
held
well
in
front
of
her
,
and
answering
the
nervous
glance
of
Lambert
Sollas
,
the
organist
from
Mr
.
Miles
’
s
church
,
who
had
come
up
from
Nettleton
to
play
the
harmonium
and
sat
behind
it
,
his
conductor
’
s
eye
running
over
the
fluttered
girls
.
