Irving Stanley

He had come, and up in the chamber where 'Lina died, was making the
toilet necessary after his hot dusty ride. Hugh, heartily ashamed of his
conduct for the last two days, had received him most cordially, meeting
him at the gate, and holding him by the hand, as they walked together to
the house, where Mrs. Worthington stood waiting for him, her lips
quivering, and tears dimming her eyes, as she said to him: "Yes, 'Lina
is dead."

Irving had heard as much at the depot, and heard, too, a strange story,
the truth of which he greatly doubted. Mrs. Worthington had been 'Lina's
mother, he believed, and his sympathy went out toward her at once,
making him forget that Alice was not there to meet him, as he half
expected she would be, although they were really comparative strangers.

It was not until a rather late hour that Alice joined him, sitting upon
the cool piazza, with Hugh as his companion. In summer Alice always wore
white, and now, as she came tripping down the long piazza, her muslin
dress floating about her like a snowy mist, her fair hair falling softly
about her face and on her neck, a few geranium leaves twined among the
glossy curls, and her lustrous eyes sparkling with excitement, both
Irving Stanley and Hugh held their breath and watched her as she came,
the one jealously and half angry that she was so beautiful, the other
admiringly and with a feeling of wonder at the beauty he had never seen
surpassed.