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She
forced
herself
to
look
away
from
her
guardian
,
and
became
aware
that
the
oratory
of
the
Hatchard
cousin
had
ceased
,
and
that
Mr
.
Miles
was
again
flapping
his
wings
.
Fragments
of
his
peroration
floated
through
her
bewildered
brain
.
.
.
.
“
A
rich
harvest
of
hallowed
memories
.
.
.
.
A
sanctified
hour
to
which
,
in
moments
of
trial
,
your
thoughts
will
prayerfully
return
.
.
.
.
And
now
,
O
Lord
,
let
us
humbly
and
fervently
give
thanks
for
this
blessed
day
of
reunion
,
here
in
the
old
home
to
which
we
have
come
back
from
so
far
.
Preserve
it
to
us
,
O
Lord
,
in
times
to
come
,
in
all
its
homely
sweetness
—
in
the
kindliness
and
wisdom
of
its
old
people
,
in
the
courage
and
industry
of
its
young
men
,
in
the
piety
and
purity
of
this
group
of
innocent
girls
—
—
”
He
flapped
a
white
wing
in
their
direction
,
and
at
the
same
moment
Lambert
Sollas
,
with
his
fierce
nod
,
struck
the
opening
bars
of
“
Auld
Lang
Syne
.
”
.
.
.
Charity
stared
straight
ahead
of
her
and
then
,
dropping
her
flowers
,
fell
face
downward
at
Mr
.
Royall
’
s
feet
.
NORTH
DORMER
’
S
celebration
naturally
included
the
villages
attached
to
its
township
,
and
the
festivities
were
to
radiate
over
the
whole
group
,
from
Dormer
and
the
two
Crestons
to
Hamblin
,
the
lonely
hamlet
on
the
north
slope
of
the
Mountain
where
the
first
snow
always
fell
.
On
the
third
day
there
were
speeches
and
ceremonies
at
Creston
and
Creston
River
;
on
the
fourth
the
principal
performers
were
to
be
driven
in
buck
-
boards
to
Dormer
and
Hamblin
.
It
was
on
the
fourth
day
that
Charity
returned
for
the
first
time
to
the
little
house
.
She
had
not
seen
Harney
alone
since
they
had
parted
at
the
wood
’
s
edge
the
night
before
the
celebrations
began
.
In
the
interval
she
had
passed
through
many
moods
,
but
for
the
moment
the
terror
which
had
seized
her
in
the
Town
Hall
had
faded
to
the
edge
of
consciousness
.
She
had
fainted
because
the
hall
was
stiflingly
hot
,
and
because
the
speakers
had
gone
on
and
on
.
.
.
.
Several
other
people
had
been
affected
by
the
heat
,
and
had
had
to
leave
before
the
exercises
were
over
.
There
had
been
thunder
in
the
air
all
the
afternoon
,
and
everyone
said
afterward
that
something
ought
to
have
been
done
to
ventilate
the
hall
.
.
.
.
At
the
dance
that
evening
—
where
she
had
gone
reluctantly
,
and
only
because
she
feared
to
stay
away
,
she
had
sprung
back
into
instant
reassurance
.
As
soon
as
she
entered
she
had
seen
Harney
waiting
for
her
,
and
he
had
come
up
with
kind
gay
eyes
,
and
swept
her
off
in
a
waltz
.
Her
feet
were
full
of
music
,
and
though
her
only
training
had
been
with
the
village
youths
she
had
no
difficulty
in
tuning
her
steps
to
his
.
As
they
circled
about
the
floor
all
her
vain
fears
dropped
from
her
,
and
she
even
forgot
that
she
was
probably
dancing
in
Annabel
Balch
’
s
slippers
.
When
the
waltz
was
over
Harney
,
with
a
last
hand
-
clasp
,
left
her
to
meet
Miss
Hatchard
and
Miss
Balch
,
who
were
just
entering
.
Charity
had
a
moment
of
anguish
as
Miss
Balch
appeared
;
but
it
did
not
last
.
The
triumphant
fact
of
her
own
greater
beauty
,
and
of
Harney
’
s
sense
of
it
,
swept
her
apprehensions
aside
.
Miss
Balch
,
in
an
unbecoming
dress
,
looked
sallow
and
pinched
,
and
Charity
fancied
there
was
a
worried
expression
in
her
pale
-
lashed
eyes
.
She
took
a
seat
near
Miss
Hatchard
and
it
was
presently
apparent
that
she
did
not
mean
to
dance
.
Charity
did
not
dance
often
either
.
Harney
explained
to
her
that
Miss
Hatchard
had
begged
him
to
give
each
of
the
other
girls
a
turn
;
but
he
went
through
the
form
of
asking
Charity
’
s
permission
each
time
he
led
one
out
,
and
that
gave
her
a
sense
of
secret
triumph
even
completer
than
when
she
was
whirling
about
the
room
with
him
.
She
was
thinking
of
all
this
as
she
waited
for
him
in
the
deserted
house
.
The
late
afternoon
was
sultry
,
and
she
had
tossed
aside
her
hat
and
stretched
herself
at
full
length
on
the
Mexican
blanket
because
it
was
cooler
indoors
than
under
the
trees
.
She
lay
with
her
arms
folded
beneath
her
head
,
gazing
out
at
the
shaggy
shoulder
of
the
Mountain
.
The
sky
behind
it
was
full
of
the
splintered
glories
of
the
descending
sun
,
and
before
long
she
expected
to
hear
Harney
’
s
bicycle
-
bell
in
the
lane
.
He
had
bicycled
to
Hamblin
,
instead
of
driving
there
with
his
cousin
and
her
friends
,
so
that
he
might
be
able
to
make
his
escape
earlier
and
stop
on
the
way
back
at
the
deserted
house
,
which
was
on
the
road
to
Hamblin
.
They
had
smiled
together
at
the
joke
of
hearing
the
crowded
buck
-
boards
roll
by
on
the
return
,
while
they
lay
close
in
their
hiding
above
the
road
.
Such
childish
triumphs
still
gave
her
a
sense
of
reckless
security
.
Nevertheless
she
had
not
wholly
forgotten
the
vision
of
fear
that
had
opened
before
her
in
the
Town
Hall
.
The
sense
of
lastingness
was
gone
from
her
and
every
moment
with
Harney
would
now
be
ringed
with
doubt
.
The
Mountain
was
turning
purple
against
a
fiery
sunset
from
which
it
seemed
to
be
divided
by
a
knife
-
edge
of
quivering
light
;
and
above
this
wall
of
flame
the
whole
sky
was
a
pure
pale
green
,
like
some
cold
mountain
lake
in
shadow
.
Charity
lay
gazing
up
at
it
,
and
watching
for
the
first
white
star
.
.
.
.
