The governor was absent when Barbara first arrived at his house. Perhaps it was for this reason she came so readily. Norman Lovel took the second invitation. He had seen Barbara in the church on the day of the baptism, and strove in vain to get near enough to address her. The rigid etiquette of the place forbade that, and all night long he was haunted with regrets for this seeming neglect of a person who had all the claims upon his courtesy which great hearts always concede to the receiver of an important favor. It was a beautiful, bright day, when Norman reached the farm-house; pleasant sounds filled the air--pleasant light fell on the old stone house, the clustering trees, and the far-off waters--light broken up with those transparent shadows which float along with the soft clouds, that sleep so quietly in the summer sky. Goody Brown was busy with her spinning-wheel, treading it vigorously with one foot, and drawing out the finest and evenest thread from a hank of flax that formed her distaff, into a tall, gray cone. A pleasant bee-like hum came from the active flyers, and there was something kindly and good in the prim woman, which was better than a welcome to one who understood her. Barbara Stafford sat near the door, watching the old woman draw out her thread, with a calm, steady look, inexpressibly mournful. Her thoughts were far away; she was following back the thread of her own life, which seemed interminable as that which glided through the old woman's fingers. So Barbara thought, and the old woman's wheel droned on. They were both very quiet, and one was--oh, how sad! Norman Lovel appeared in the door like a sunbeam; his cheek was red with walking; the wind, which came moist and cool from the ocean, had left its freshness on his face. His fine eyes were bright as diamonds. When he caught Barbara's look, and saw that a gleam of pleasure stole through its sadness, he smiled, and two dimples fluttered about the corners of his mouth. Barbara received him kindly; her heart warmed to the youth, he was so like a child in the cheerfulness of his presence. A throb of strange satisfaction beat in her bosom at the sight of that young face. He, too, was conscious of a swell of contentment as he stood before the woman he had saved. It seemed as if he had known her from childhood up. The atmosphere of her presence was natural to him as the breath of roses. He sat down on the threshold of the door, with his feet upon the stepping stone, and, while the calm, beautiful day glowed all around him, began to talk.