As we neared the church, the sunshine
and gladness suddenly grew dim, for there, in all her perfect loveliness,
Mrs. Le Grande was approaching St. Mark's from the opposite direction.
Impulsively I turned to Mr. Winthrop, hoping he would not see her; for
usually he was quite oblivious of the presence of those who might be on
the street with him. A glance assured me that he was looking at her, and
that her desire was gratified. He took no notice, however, of my abrupt
movement, and without change of expression or voice, said: "There seems
a good many strangers on their way to church this morning. Some unusual
circumstance must have occurred to bring out so many curious
worshippers." I could not help smiling at the veiled irony in voice and
words. Fortunately we were considerably nearer the church than Mrs. Le
Grande, and without quickening our steps gained its shelter before she
overtook us, although I saw she moved more quickly after she saw us. St.
Mark's was an ancient church, built in old colonial days. One could
easily fancy themselves in a country church in some quiet English
village, as their eyes fell on the high-backed pews, narrow, stained
glass-windows, and walls covered with memorial tablets, and the other
peculiarities of a church over a century old. The Winthrop pew was near
the pulpit. A large square one, and commanding an excellent view of the
congregation. When Mrs. Le Grande entered, she paused for a moment,
apparently taking a rapid survey of the church; when her eye fell on our
pew.
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