She counted the hours until they should meet, as many a fond, foolish woman has counted them before. She brought out her prettiest frocks; she smiled at her fair reflection in the glass.
“How will he think I am looking?” she thought, and she wondered, too, if she would see any change in him.
The two quiet sisters down-stairs looked at each other with sympathetic sighs. Miss Margaret had never told Miss Eliza about her conversation with Ralph Webster but somehow Miss Eliza had vaguely understood that some such conversation had taken place. She, too, had been afraid for the son of their love; she, too, had watched Ralph’s dark eyes follow the slender girlish form, whose heart was now beating so joyously at the prospect of meeting another man!
But they did not speak of it. Miss Webster had said quietly to Miss Eliza during the morning, “Mr. John Temple is coming to-morrow,” and therefore Miss Eliza concluded that May’s happy looks and excitement were somehow connected with this event.
She, indeed, made no secret of this, and when the day actually came she went out the very first thing in the morning, and returned laden with flowers, with which she proceeded to fill Miss Webster’s blue china vases all over the house.
“My dear, you have quite a flower show,” said Miss Webster, kindly, looking at the glowing blossoms.
“He is very fond of flowers,” answered May, with a soft happy blush, going on with her task; and Miss Webster turned away thinking sadly enough of Ralph Webster at some Alpine village among the snow.
But May Churchill never thought of him. Her whole mind was taken up with one idea. “John is coming to-day; John is coming!”
The thought made her go singing about the house; it deepened the lovely rose-bloom on her cheeks, and made her eyes shine like stars.
“She is beautiful,” whispered Aunt Eliza to Aunt Margaret, when the girl came down dressed for dinner in her white frock, with moss-rose buds at her breast and throat.