with its tangle of briars and its broken sun-dial."

"You cannot see the dial from here," said Anne, coming towards her with a
strange paleness and haste. "One cannot see _within_ the garden from any
window, surely."

"Nay," said Clorinda; "'tis not near enough, and the hedges are too high;
but one knows 'tis there, and 'tis tiresome."

"Let us draw the curtains and not look, and forget it," said poor Anne.
And she drew the draperies with a trembling hand; and ever after while
they dwelt in the room they stayed so.

My lady wore her mourning for more than a year, and in her sombre
trailing weeds was a wonder to behold. She lived in her father's house,
and saw no company, but sat or walked and drove with her sister Anne, and
visited the poor. The perfect stateliness of her decorum was more talked
about than any levity would have been; those who were wont to gossip
expecting that having made her fine match and been so soon rid of her
lord, she would begin to show her strange wild breeding again, and
indulge in fantastical whims. That she should wear her mourning with
unflinching dignity and withdraw from the world as strictly as if she had
been a lady of royal blood mourning her prince, was the unexpected thing,
and so was talked of everywhere.

At the end of the eighteenth month she sent one day for Anne, who, coming
at her bidding, found her standing in her chamber surrounded by black
robes and draperies piled upon the bed, and chairs, and floor, their
sombreness darkening the room like a cloud; but she stood in their midst
in a trailing garment of pure white, and in her bosom was a bright red