I am trying to overtake you." Feeling as guilty as a child detected in some forbidden spot, Mercy stood still, vainly hoping her black veil was thick enough to hide her red eyes; vainly trying to regain her composure enough to speak in her natural voice, and smile her usual smile.

Vainly, indeed! What crape could blind a lover's eyes, or what forced tone deceive a lover's ears?
At his first sight of her face, Stephen started; at the first sound of her voice, he stood still, and exclaimed,-- "Mrs.Philbrick, you have been crying!" There was no gainsaying it, even if Mercy had not been too honest to make the attempt.

She looked up mischievously at him, and tried to say lightly,-- "What then, Mr.White?
Didn't you know all women cried ?" The voice was too tremulous.

Stephen could not bear it.

Forgetting that they were on a public street, forgetting every thing but that Mercy was crying, he exclaimed,-- "Mercy, what is it?
Do let me help you! Can't I ?" She did not even observe that he called her "Mercy." It seemed only natural.