folded her little hands, which were encased in Evelina's
cream-colored silk mitts, over it, and looked up at the young
minister, and listened to his sermon with a grave and innocent
dignity, as Evelina had done before her. Perhaps the resemblance
between this young girl and the young girl of the past was more one
of mien than aught else, although the type of face was the same. This
girl had the same fine sharpness of feature and delicately bright
color, and she also wore her hair in curls, although they were tied
back from her face with a black velvet ribbon, and did not veil it
when she drooped her head, as Evelina's used to do.

The people divided their attention between her and the new minister.
Their curiosity goaded them in equal measure with their spiritual
zeal. "I can't wait to find out who that girl is," one woman
whispered to another.

The girl herself had no thought of the commotion which she awakened.
When the service was over, and she walked with a gentle maiden
stateliness, which seemed a very copy of Evelina's own, out of the
meeting-house, down the street to the Squire's house, and entered it,
passing under the stately Corinthian pillars, with a last purple
gleam of her satin skirts, she never dreamed of the eager attention
that followed her.

It was several days before the village people discovered who she was.
The information had to be obtained, by a process like mental
thumb-screwing, from the old man who tended Evelina's garden, but at
last they knew. She was the daughter of a cousin of Evelina's on the
father's side. Her name was Evelina Leonard; she had been named for
her father's cousin. She had been finely brought up, and had attended