Presently she came to the window, and as she stood by my side, a burst of glory streamed through the fast-closing clouds, enveloping her in a golden atmosphere, tinting her black hair with purple, flushing her clear cheeks and the pearls about her throat. The fragrance of the rose she wore on her breast mingled with the light; for a moment I was thrilled and overpowered; but the dark-blue eyes were not looking on me--they were regarding the weather. "How provoking that it should rain to-night," she said, and as the slight cloud of vexation swept over her face, the blackness of night closed over the gleam of sunset, so suddenly that we could hardly discern each other. "The rain will not keep Moreland away," I answered. "Of course not--but I don't want him to get wet walking up from the depot; and Billy has put up the carriage in view of the storm." At that moment a wild gust of wind smote the house so that it shook, and the rain came down with a roar that was deafening. Eleanor rung for lights. "Tell cook to be sure and have chocolate for supper--and cream for the peaches," she said to the servant who came in to light the gas. The girl smiled; she knew, in common with her mistress, who it was preferred chocolate and liked cream with peaches; the love of a woman, however sublime in some of its qualities, never fails in the tender domestic instincts which delight in promoting the comfort and personal tastes of its object. "We need not have troubled ourselves to wear our new dresses," pouted Mary, the younger sister, who had followed Eleanor down stairs "there will be nobody here to-night." Both James and myself objected to being dubbed nobody. The willful young beauty said all the gay things she pleased, telling us she certainly should not have worn her blue silks, nor puffed her hair for us-- "--Nor for Henry Moreland either--he never looks at me after the first minute. Engaged people are so stupid! I wish he and Eleanor would make an end of it. If I'm ever going to be bridemaid, I want to be--" "And a clear field afterward, Miss Molly," jested her cousin. "Come! play that new polka for me." "You couldn't hear it if I did. The rain is playing a polka this evening, and the wind is dancing to it." He laughed loudly--more loudly than the idle fancy warranted. "Let us see if we can not make more noise than the storm," he said, going to the piano and thumping out the most thunderous piece that he could recall. I was not a musician, but it seemed to me there were more discords than the law of harmony allowed; and Mary put her hands over her ears, and ran away to the end of the room. For the next half-hour the rain came down in wide sheets, flapping against the windows, as the wind blew it hither and thither. James continued at the piano, and Eleanor moved restlessly about, stealing glances, now and then, at her tiny watch.