Notwithstanding all Mrs. Bell's coaxings, Miss Hart would never go out during the day-time, but when darkness fell, and it came early now, in the beginning of September, she would wrap her gray cloak about her, and go away for long, long walks all alone. Mrs. Bell thought this proceeding anything but proper, but Josephine Hart minded very little what any one thought about her. As the days wore on, her white face seemed to grow whiter, and her big bright eyes often looked pathetic as well as bright. She ate very little, too, and scarcely spoke at all; but it never occurred to her or any one else to suppose that she was ill. The weather during all this period continued very fine. Never had so glorious a summer been remembered at Northbury, and the good folk said it was a lucky omen for the young bride, who was a favorite with rich and poor alike. Every one in Northbury made Beatrice a present, and she began to collect quite a curious collection of gifts. None of these presents were splendid, few of them possessed intrinsic value, but the young girl treasured them, one and all, very much; for they were to her symbols of the love which had shone about her path from her birth. Mrs. Bertram could not understand the joy Beatrice felt over the crude gifts of the fishermen's wives, nor her ecstasy when a poor girl whom she had once befriended, brought her a dozen yards of narrow and very dirty crotchet edging. Beatrice almost kissed that edging, and her eyes filled with tears as she folded it up and put it away. No such soft radiance came to them when her future mother-in-law presented her with a beautiful diamond cross, which was an old family heirloom, and must belong by right to Bertram's wife. "This is of great value," Mrs. Bertram said; "and it will suit you, my dear, you are the sort of girl who can wear diamonds, and look well in them." "But I like flowers best," said Beatrice, under her breath. She kissed Mrs. Bertram, and thanked her for her gift, which she locked away very carefully, as she knew it was of much value. But her heart was not stirred by it as it had been by the crotchet edging which Jenny Ray had made for her. Mrs. Gorman Stanley gave Beatrice a large piece of Berlin wool-work; it was not handsome, nor had it cost the good lady much, for she had picked it up years ago at an auction. Mrs. Gorman Stanley was not a generous person, and as the Berlin wool-work had always troubled her on account of its magnificence, its uselessness, and the almost certainty that the moths would get in and devour it, she thought it a good opportunity of making an effective present, and getting rid of a household care. Once that wool-work had been put together with love and pride. The impossible lilies and roses, the huge peonies, and gigantic hollyhocks which composed its pattern, had been formed, stitch by stitch, by unknown fingers, probably now crumbled to dust.