about her "Stonie." The crystal was highly electric at that moment, and I felt a sharp shock. At that second the door of the house opened, and Ally—my Ally—stood on the threshold.
She wore a white gown, and had a dark purple scarf thrown over her shoulders. She looked up and down the road as if expecting some one,—then sat down on the door-step and leaned her head against the wall, as she had done the morning Jim and I had ridden away on the stage six years ago. The clusters of purple lilac blossoms seemed now, as they did then, to caress her golden curls—curls as golden to-day as then. I was hidden from her sight by the firs. I watched her for some moments. She sat motionless; I could see that she held in her fingers something swinging from her belt. "Why does not the tourmaline tell her I am here?" I thought, and I laid my hand on my own crystal, as I walked toward the house.
She rose slowly, looked earnestly toward me, and then came with hesitating steps down the walk. The almond flowers shook down a cloud of rosy petals at the floating touch of her gown. I reached the gate first, folded my arms on its upper bar, and waited. She came toward me with her lips parted in a smile such as I never saw on her face before—such as I shall never see again, unless God takes her first to heaven, to wait my coming there. No trace of surprise—no shade or strangeness was on her countenance.
