It was often so. When she had sunned Earle with her smiles she withdrew her presence, or changed smiles to frowns; so he was never cloyed with too much sweetness. When Doris withdrew, in vain he sang under the window, or sent her love-full notes. The summer sun of his love had its settings, its shadows, its thunder-clouds, yet Earle loved and was happy.
CHAPTER XII.
BEAUTY BECOMES IMMORTAL.
It was the good custom of Mark Brace to close the day with prayer; and sometimes a word or two of the psalms for the day penetrated the sedulously deaf ears of Doris.
Such happened to be the case one August night, and set the beauty thinking. She was perched on the sill of the dairy window, next morning, watching Mattie make butter, but her brow wore a perplexed frown, and a look of curiosity not provoked by butter-making was in her blue eyes.
"What is the matter? What are you thinking of, Doris?"
"I am thinking that I am an example of Scripture truth."
"In what particular?" asked Mattie.
"In the particular of tumbling into the pit, or catching in the net, duly set forth by me for other people."
"I don't quite understand you."