By the Light of the Soul

oss of her mother, and all the sad appurtenances of mourning. She had a covert pleasure at the sight of her fai

ry soon after her mother's death, his mercurial temperament jarred upon her. She could not understand how he could laugh and talk as if nothing had happened. She herself was more like her mother in temperament-that is, like the New-Englander who goes through life wi

her brother, who was earning good wages in a shoe-factory. She dressed very well, really much better than her sister-in-law. "Poor Eunice never had much management," Maria was wont to say, smoothing down, as she spoke, the folds of her own gown. She never wore out anything; she moved carefully and sat carefully; she did a good deal of fancy-work, but she was always very particular, even when engaged in the daintiest toil, to cover her gown with an apron, and she always held her thin-veined hands high. She charged this upon her niece Maria when she had her new black clothes. "Now, Maria," said she, "there is one thing I want you to remember, here is nothin'-" (Aunt Maria elided her final "g" like most New-Englanders, although she was not deficient in education, and even prided herself upon her reading.) "Black is the worst thing in the world to grow shiny. Folks can talk all they want to about black bein' durable. It isn't. It grows shiny. And if you wi

ay, and in funeral attire outside. She told her father about it, but he had not a large income, and it had been severely taxed by his wife's almost

same in your heart, don't you?" asked Harry Edgham, with that ligh

she replied,

be a good little girl," said Harry, and he w

in his face by the impetus of another heart exasperated him, although he could say nothing. It may be that, with his temperament, it was even dan

iece Maria one night, when Harry had gone out on the piazza, a

t like his sister-in-law, although he disguised the fact. She was very useful. His meals were always on time,

one to her own room and wept, and told herself that her mother would never have put such things on her. She had no one in whom to confide. Sh

pretty enough, and she knows it," said they. She was in the high school, even at her age, and she stood high in her classes. There was always a sort of mo

a kiss from such a pretty, dainty little creature than have had her go above them in the algebra class. It did not seem fitting. Without knowing it, they wer

mother. He was of that age when a boy tells hi

says she is a good girl," replied his mother, w

ntimate. The Lees were at the supper-table when Wollaston made his deprecatory remark concerning Maria, and he had been led to do so by th

husband. His words were rather brusque, but he regarded, while speaking them, his w

ets and got a new hat trimmed with black daisies; rather light

said her husband, still with

t's so,

e, I guess," said her husband, easily;

Maria, who had herself noticed with wonder that her au

ore a bonnet!" said she, innocently, whe

I saw Mrs. Rufus Jones, who is a good deal older than I, at church Sunday with

ly are, Aunt Maria?" inquired

nnets had had something to do with it. Aunt Maria had never affected fashions beyond a certain epoch, partly from economy, partly from a certain sense of injury. She had said to herself that she was old, she had been passed by; she would dress as one who had. Now her sentiments underwent a curious change. The possibility occurred to her that Harry might ask her to take her departed

ncontinently across the streets, with policemen looking after her with haughty disapprobation. But when she was told to step lively on the trolley-cars, her true self asserted its endurance. "I am not going to step in front of a team for you or any other person," she told one conduct

in New York, Maria?" a

out manners, that I ever saw in my wh

, easily. "Everybody who comes from New England has to

ny of them," replied Aunt Maria. "When I

ham laugh

reakfast with a pompadour. Her thin frizzes were carefully puff

tared open-mouthed; then she ate her

sister-in-law, then he said: "Got your ha

lied Aunt Maria with dignity; still she blushed. She knew that her own hair did not

her man in the office, and he wondered privately if Maria would feel hurt if he brought some for her. Of the other fact he had not the least suspicion. H

d married him, she had wondered what on earth she saw i

our diverted her mind from her book; then she caught Gla

meet, and keep the girl at school at all; moreover, she herself came of one of the poor white families which flourish in New Jersey as well as at the South, although in less numbers. Gladys's mother was rather a marvel, inasmuch as she was willing to take in washing, and do it well too, but Gladys had no higher rank for that. She was herself rather a pathet

Maria would inquire, with a half-kindly,

ay," Gladys would inqu

plied Maria, wi

shall I say she has gone?" inquir

. "Why don't you remember what you learn a

I learn at school," Gladys replied

e, at least, of an outburst of sympathy. Maria had never forgotten how Gladys had cried the first morning she went to school after her mother died. Every time Gladys glanced at poor litt

nce; she asked anything which occurred to her, with

she asked that very

hat t

her goin' to

rned quite pale, and

our aun

ever, she reflected on Aunt Maria's pompadour. A great indignation seized her. A

she was, in fact, impervious to that sort of thing. But Maria came to be quite sure that Aunt Maria had designs on her father. She observed that she dressed much better than she had ever done; she observed the fairly ostentatious attention which she

, when Aunt Maria had gone out of the room. "I

on't you, fathe

does not alter the fact that she has don

er with suspicion, whic

a year since his wife's death. He himself began to take more pains with his attire. Maria noticed it. She saw her father go out one evening clad in a new, light-gr

t a new suit, f

Do you like it,

," replied Maria, in a sweet, curt little voice. Her fa

igs of purple running through it, and a purple ribbon around her waist. She made up her mind that she

ome, and Aunt Maria had said nothing about it. She appeared to be working very interestedly on a sofa-cushion which she was embroidering, but her face looked, to Maria's mind, ra

re father has gone

ess. "Well, you may as well know first as last," said she, "and you'd