Miss Julia's ailment was nothing to speak of, but they were in
care along of being so wrapped up in her, and no wonder, for if ever
there was a duck----!"
Acting on this intelligence, Alfred went early the next Sunday to St.
Anne's Church, and sat down in the side gallery at its east end. While
the congregation flowed quietly in, the organist played the _Agnus Dei_
of Mozart. Those pious tender tones stole over his hot young heart, and
whispered, "Peace, be still!" He sighed wearily, and it passed through
his mind that it might have been better for him, and especially for his
studies, if he had never seen her. Suddenly the aisle seemed to lighten
up; she was gliding along it, beautiful as May, and modesty itself in
dress and carriage. She went into a pew and kneeled a minute, then seated
herself and looked out the lessons for the day. Alfred gazed at her face:
devoured it. But her eyes never roved. She seemed to have put off
feminine curiosity, and the world, at the church door. Indeed he wished
she was not quite so heavenly discreet; her lashes were delicious, but he
longed to see her eyes once more; to catch a glance from them, and, by
it, decipher his fate.
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