lauding the colonel's good qualities till even the girl's dulled emotions were roused, and she wept as she had not done since her father's death.
But her home-coming was sharpened with pangs that she had not reckoned on when her first longing to return to the city swept over her. Every step of her surroundings was reminiscent of her father and of their close companionship. All the byways held recollections of him, of small happenings that, at the time, had been pregnant with joy or anxiety, of little jokes they had had together. The shops they dealt at seemed as if they might at any moment disgorge his tall, angular figure, with its quick, decisive step, the old face alight with smiles as his eye fell on her.
One afternoon, after she had been home a week, she was returning from a walk, slowly traversing the familiar streets, absorbed in her own thoughts. So engrossed was she that, for the moment, the Sacramento interval, with all that it had held, was obliterated from her mind, and, walking loiteringly, she turned the accustomed corner and approached the house. Her suspension of memory lasted till she had her hand on the gate. Then, with a sudden, dizzying rush, the consciousness of the present returned. She felt faint and sick, and stood holding the gate-post and looking up at the
