Among the members of the household none seemed more interested in the preparations than the girl Maria, who has before been incidentally mentioned. Her dull eyes lighted up with each new article of dress, and she suddenly displayed so much taste in everything pertaining to a lady's toilet, that Rosamond was delighted and kept her constantly with her, devising this new thing and that, all of which were invariably tried on and submitted to the inspection of Mr. Browning, who was sure to approve whatever his Rosamond wore. And thus gayly sped the halcyon hours, bringing at last the fading leaf and the wailing October winds; but to Rosamond, basking in the sunlight of love, there came no warning note to tell her of the dark November days which were hurrying swiftly on. CHAPTER IX. THE GUEST AT RIVERSIDE. The November days had come. The satin dress was made--the bridal veil sent home--the wreath of orange, too; and then, one morning when the summer, it would seem, had come to revisit the scenes of its brief reign, Mr. Browning kissed his bride-elect, and wiped away the two big tears which dropped from her eyelashes when he told her that he was going away for that day and the next. "But when to-morrow's sun is setting, I shall be with you again," he said, and he bade her quiet the fluttering of her little heart, which throbbed so painfully at parting with him. "I don't know why it is," she said, "I'm not one bit superstitious, but Bruno howled so dismally under my window all night, and when he ceased, a horrid owl set up a screech. I told Maria, and she said, in her country the cry of an owl was a sign that the grave was about to give up its dead, and she looked so mysterious that she frightened me all the more--" "That Maria is too superstitious, and I don't like her to be with you so much," said Mr. Browning, his own cheek turning slightly pale, as he thought of the grave giving up _his_ dead. Thrice he turned back to kiss the little maiden, who followed him down the avenue, and then climbed into a box-like seat, which had been built on the top of the gate-post, and was sheltered by a sycamore. "Here," said she, "shall I wait for you to-morrow night, when the sun is away over there. Oh, I wish it would hurry." He wished so, too, and with another fond good-by they parted. The day seemed long to Rosamond, and, though she varied the time by trying on each and every one of her new dresses, she was glad when it was night, so she could go to bed and sleep the time away. The next morning the depression of spirits was gone; he was coming--she should wait for him beneath the sycamore--possibly she would hide to make him believe she was not there, and the bright blushes stole over her dimpled cheeks as she thought what he would do when he found that she _was_ there. "Ten o'clock," she said to herself, as she heard the whistle of the upward train. "Seven hours more and he will come."