A robin had waked to answer it, for the Piper’s fluting was wondrously like his own voice.

Contrasting her present peace with her days of torment.  Miss Evelina thrilled with gratitude to Piper Tom, who had taken the weeds out of her garden in more senses than one.  His hand had guided her, slowly, yet surely, to the heights of calm.  She saw her life now as a desolate valley lying between two peaks.  One was sunlit, yet opaline with the mists of morning; the other was scarcely a peak, but merely a high and grassy plain upon which the afternoon shadows lay long.

Ah, but there were terrors in the dark valley which lay between!  Sharp crags and treeless wastes, tortuous paths and abysmal depths, with never a rest for the wayfarer who struggled blindly on.  She was not yet so secure upon the height that she could contemplate the valley unmoved.

Her house was immaculate, now, and was kept so by her own hands.  At first, she had not cared, and the dust and the cobwebs had not mattered at all.  Miss Mehitable, in the beginning, had inspired her to housewifely effort, and Doctor Ralph’s personal neatness had made her ashamed.  She worked in the garden, too, keeping the brick-bordered paths free from weeds, and faithfully attending to every plant.

Yet life seemed strangely empty, lifted above its all-embracing pain.  The house and garden did not occupy her fully, and she had few books.  These were all old ones, and she knew them by heart, though she had found some pleasure in reading again the well-thumbed fairy books of her childhood.

She had read the book which Ralph had brought Araminta, and thought of asking him to lend her more—­if she ever saw him again.  She knew that he was very busy, but she felt that, surely, he would come again before long.

Araminta danced up the path, singing, and rapped at Miss Evelina’s door.  When she came in, it was like a ray of sunlight in a gloomy place.

“Miss Evelina!” she cried; “Oh, Miss Evelina!  I’m going to be married!”

“I’m glad,” said Evelina, tenderly, yet with a certain wistfulness.  Once the joy of it had been in her feet, too, and the dread valley of desolation had opened before her.

“See!” cried Araminta, extending a dimpled hand.  “See my ring!  It’s my engagement ring,” she added, proudly.

Miss Evelina winced a little behind her veil, for the ring was the one Anthony Dexter had given her soon after their betrothal.  Fearing gossip, she had refused to wear it until after they were married.  So he had taken it, to have it engraved, but, evidently, the engraving had never been done.  Otherwise Ralph would not have given it to Araminta—­she was sure of that.

“It was his mother’s ring, Miss Evelina, and now it’s mine.  His father loved his mother just as Ralph loves me.  It’s so funny not to have to say ‘Doctor Ralph.’  Oh, I’m so glad I broke my ankle!  He’s coming, but I wanted to come first by myself.  I made him wait for five minutes down under the elm because I wanted to tell you first.  I told Aunt Hitty, all alone, and I wasn’t a bit afraid.  Oh, Miss Evelina, I wish you had somebody to love you as he loves me!”