its associations. There was something about the chest, its dark polish
and coarse carving, that even led her to think hopefully of its poor
contents.

She crouched beside it now, upon her heels, and lifting the lid, gazed
expectantly at what was revealed.

After all, it did not look so bad, just a level surface of white linen...

But, when she lifted it out, and all the yellow of age was revealed in
the full gathers of the skirt, a shade passed over Loveday's spirit.
How small and tight the bodice looked, how skimpy even the plaits of the
skirt for the present modes ... yet it had been a good linen in its day,
there was no doubt of that, this frock that had been stitched for her
mother's wedding gown.

For perhaps he had always been coming back to marry her, perhaps only
their young blood and eager hearts beating so strongly within them had
made the beat of wedding bells seem at first too slight a sound to catch
their absorbed attention.... So Loveday the elder had always known,
in spite of the sneers of the neighbours. So Loveday the younger had
maintained to carping girl-critics, though in her inmost heart she had
never been able to feel it mattered so vastly, for half the girls she
knew would have been in her predicament had their fathers been cut
off untimely. She knew it was not that she was born out of wedlock,
a misfortune that might happen to anyone, which oppressed her youth,
but the fact of her father having been a foreigner, and of that she
was fiercely resolved to be proud. Neither mother nor father had she
ever known, but the instinct of generous youth is ever to defend the
oppressed, and with her defence had love sprung in Loveday's heart.