Beth's summer at Briarsfield parsonage passed quietly and sweetly. She had seemed a little sad at first, and May, with her woman's instinct, read more of her story than she thought, but she said nothing, though she doubled her little loving attentions. The love of woman for woman is passing sweet.
But let us look at Beth as she sits in the shadow of the trees in the parsonage garden. It was late in August, and Beth was waiting for May to come out. Do you remember the first time we saw her in the shadow of the trees on the lawn at home? It is only a little over two years ago, but yet how much she has changed! You would hardly recognize the immature girl in that gentle, sweet-faced lady in her dark mourning dress. The old gloom had drifted from her brow, and in its place was sunlight, not the sunlight of one who had never known suffering, but the gentler, sweeter light of one who had triumphed over it. It was a face that would have attracted you, that would have attracted everyone, in fact, from the black-gowned college professor to the small urchin shouting in the street. To the rejoicing it said, "Let me laugh with you, for life is sweet;" to the sorrowing, "I understand, I have suffered, too. I know what you feel." Just then her sweet eyes were raised to heaven in holy thought, "Dear heavenly Father, thou knowest everything—how I loved him. Thy will be done. Oh, Jesus, my tender One, thou art so sweet! Thou dost understand my woman's heart and satisfy even its sweet longings. Resting in Thy sweet presence what matter life's sorrows!"
She did not notice the lattice gate open and a slender, fair-haired man pause just inside to watch her. It was Clarence Mayfair. There was a touching expression on his face as he looked at her. Yes, she was beautiful, he thought. It was not a dream, the face that he had carried in his soul since that Sunday night last fall. Beth Woodburn was beautiful. She was a woman now. She was only a child when they played their little drama of love there in Briarsfield. The play was past now; he loved her as a man can love but one woman. And now—a shadow crossed his face—perhaps it was too late!
"Clarence!" exclaimed Beth, as he advanced, "I'm glad to see you." And she held out her hand with an air of graceful dignity.
"You have come back to visit Briarsfield, I suppose. I was so surprised to see you," she continued.
"Yes, I am staying at Mr. Graham's."
She noticed as he talked that he looked healthier, stronger and more manly. Altogether she thought him improved.
"Your father and mother are still in England, I suppose," said she.
"Yes, they intend to stay with their relatives this winter. As for me, I shall go back to 'Varsity and finish my course."
"Oh, are you going to teach?"