I shall never forget my first sensation. It was a feeling of regret that I had no freckles; for as soon as my eyes rested upon her, there came into my heart a deep desire to be just like her in every particular. Hundreds of times have I recalled her as she appeared to me that day; and I still believe that, upon some secret principle of æsthetics, notwithstanding the general prejudice against freckles, these added to the piquancy of her beauty. As she grew up few called her handsome, except those who could perceive the rich emotional nature that seemed to radiate through every gesture and movement of her supple form, and especially through her bright eyes, whose lids had sometimes a slight quiver or shake from any sudden excitation. This was something instantaneous as to time, and difficult to describe, but it added an extraordinary charm to her soulful beauty. There was always about her an atmosphere of fragrant health, which charmed you like the odors and zephyrs of spring-time. The freckles which, as a child, I had so envied her, disappeared entirely when she reached the nubile age. On this Sunday in the graveyard I “tagged” after Clara everywhere she went, fascinated by her fresh, full life, and by her exquisite dress; but I could find no way to speak to her, because of her awe-inspiring companion, though I was often so near to her that her long hat ribbons swept my cheek. After a while my ignorance of churchyard etiquette came to my aid; for, finding the distance between me and this divine vision increasing, I made a short cut over some intervening graves. Miss Buzzell turned her awful eyes upon me. I simply noticed that there were many wrinkles converging about her mouth, and that her breath was redolent of cloves. In a deep, slow, admonitory voice, she said, “Child! you should never step on a grave!” It was like a cold leech dropped suddenly upon the warm, sensitive flesh. I could do nothing but hang my head in humiliation. Clara, childlike and human, sympathized with my distress, and told me sweetly that my pantalette was coming down. It was at the time when girls, in that part of the country at least, wore this nondescript article fastened on with the garter, falling down to the foot, and about three inches below the dress, where it ended with tucks and a wide hem. Some of us were so extravagant as to add an edging, which we used to knit of spool cotton. I stooped down to arrange the rebel pantalette, but when I had finished, Clara was some graves away from me, and the church bells were calling back the scattered congregations. CHAPTER II. THE SKELETON IN THE GARRET.