Darrell, on the contrary, was greatly changed. Marion, gazing at the

snow-white hair, the dark eyes with their piercing, inscrutable look,

the firmly set mouth, and noting the bearing of conscious strength and

power, was unable to recognize her quondam schoolmate until he spoke;

the voice and smile were the same as of old!

They clasped hands for an instant, then Darrell, as in the old days,

dropped easily into one corner of the little sofa, supposing she would

take her accustomed place in the other corner, but, instead, she drew a

small rocker opposite and facing him, in which she seated herself. His

manner was cordial and free as, after a few inquiries regarding herself,

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he spoke of his absence, touching lightly upon his illness and its

strange consequences, and expressed his joy at finding himself at home

once more.

She was kind and sympathetic, but her manner was constrained. She could

not banish the remembrance of her call upon his mother, of the contrast

between his home and hers; and as he talked something indefinable in his

language, in his very movements and gestures, revealed to her sensitive

nature a contrast, a difference, between them; he had somehow reached

ground to which she could not attain. He drew her out to speak of her

new studies and congratulated her upon her progress; but the call was

not a success, socially or otherwise.

When Darrell left the house he believed more firmly than ever that

Marion had loved him in the past. Whether she had ceased to love him he

could not then determine; time would tell.

During the weeks that followed there were numerous gatherings of a

social and informal nature where Darrell and Marion were thrown in each

other's society, but, though he still showed a preference for her over

the girls of his acquaintance, she shrank from his attentions, avoiding

him whenever she could do so without causing remark.

Thanksgiving Day came, and Miss Jewett's guests were compelled to admit

that she had surpassed herself. The dinner was one long to be

remembered. Her prize turkey occupied the place of honor, flanked on one

side by a roast duck, superbly browned, and on the other by an immense

chicken pie, while savory vegetables, crisp pickles, and tempting

relishes such as she only could concoct crowded the table in every

direction. A huge plum-pudding headed the second course, with an almost

endless retinue of pies,--mince, pumpkin, and apple,--while golden

custards and jellies--red, purple, and amber, of currant, grape, and

peach--brought up the rear. A third course of fruits and nuts followed,

but by that time scarcely any one was able to do more than make a

pretence of eating.

To this dinner were invited the minister and his wife, one or two

far-removed cousins who usually put in an appearance at this season of

the year, Marion Holmes, and a decrepit old lady, a former friend of

Mrs. Jewett's, who confided to the minister's wife that she had eaten a

very light breakfast and no lunch whatever in order that she might be

able to "do justice to Experience's dinner."