And the cloud was high and dark Sunday morning, though it was as fair a summer day as might be seen.  Some tears escaped stealthily from Daisy’s eyes, as she knelt in the little church beside her mother; but the prayers were deep and sweet and strong to her, very much.  Sadly sorry was Daisy when they were ended.  The rest of the service was little to her.  Mr. Pyne did not preach like Mr. Dinwiddie; and she left the church with a downcast heart, thinking that so much of the morning was past.

The rest of the day Daisy kept by herself, in her own room; trying to get some comfort in reading and praying.  For the dread of the evening was strong upon her; every movement of her mother spoke displeasure and determination.  Daisy felt her heart beating gradually quicker and quicker, as the hours of the day wore on.

“Ye ain’t well, Miss Daisy,”—­said June, who had come in as usual without being heard.

“Yes I am, June,” said Daisy.  But she had started when the woman spoke, and June saw that now a tear sprang.

“Did you eat a good lunch, Miss Daisy?”

“I don’t know, June.  I guess I didn’t eat much.”

“Let me bring you something!”—­said the woman coaxingly—­“some strawberries, with some good cream to ’em.”

“No—­I can’t, June—­I don’t want them.  What o’clock is it?”

“It is just on to five, Miss Daisy.”

Five!  Daisy suddenly recollected her scholar, whom she had directed to come to her at this hour.  Jumping up she seized her hat and rushed off down stairs and through the shrubbery, leaving June lost in wonder and concern.

At a Belvidere, some distance from the house and nearer the gate, Daisy had chosen to meet her pupil; and she had given orders at the Lodge to have her guided thither when she should come.  And there she was; Daisy could see the red head of hair before she got to the place herself.  Hephzibah looked very much as she did on weekdays; her dress partially covered with a little shawl; her bonnet she had thrown off; and if the hair had been coaxed into any state of smoothness before leaving home, it was all gone now.

[Illustration:  THE BELVIDERE.]

“How do you do, Hephzibah?” said Daisy.  “I am glad to see you.”

Hephzibah smiled, but unless that meant a civil answer, she gave none.  Daisy sat down beside her.

“Do you know how to read, Hephzibah?”

The child first shook her shaggy head—­then nodded it.  What that meant, Daisy was somewhat at a loss.

“Do you know your letters?”

Hephzibah nodded.

“What is that letter?”

Daisy had not forgotten to bring a reading book, and now put Hephzibah through the alphabet, which she seemed to know perfectly, calling each letter by its right name.  Daisy then asked if she could read words; and getting an assenting nod again, she tried her in that.  But here Hephzibah’s education was defective; she could read indeed, after a fashion; but it was a slow and stumbling fashion; and Daisy and she were a good while getting through a page.  Daisy shut the book up.