will hardly think so much of me then ; perhaps she
will have seen those whom she likes a great deal bet-
ter. Perhaps she will not like me at all ; yet I knew
very well that I should like her.
I had gone up almost to the house ; I had passed
the stream where we fished on that day, many years
before ; and I thought that now since she was grown
to womanhood, I should never sit with her there
again, and surely never drag her as I did out of the
water, and never chafe her little hands, and never
perhaps kiss her, as I did, when she sat upon my
mother's lap — oh, no — no — no !

I saw where we buried Tray, but the old slab was
gone ; there was no ribbon there now. I thought
that at least, Isabel would have replaced the slab ; —
but it was a' wrong thought. I trembled when I went
up to the door — ^for it flashed upon me, that perhaps,
— Isabel was married. I could not tell why she
should not ; but I knew it would make me uncom-
fortable, to hear that she had.
There was a tall woman who opened the door ; she
did not know me ; but I recognized her as one of the
old servants. I asked after the housekeeper first,
thinking I would surprise Isabel. My heart fluttered
somewhat, thinking that she might step in suddenly
herself — or perhaps that she might have seen me



^



Noon. 231

ooming up the hill. But even then, I thought, she
would hardly know me.
