thought that clung and repeated itself to her heart was that plaintive
wail:

"Almost persuaded, now to believe."

That was certainly herself; she felt it, knew it; in the face of that
knowledge think how solemn the words grew:

"Almost will not prevail,
Almost is but to fail;
Sad, sad that bitter wail,
Almost,--but lost!"

Was that for her, too? In short, Eurie out there alone, among the silent
trees, felt and admitted this fact: that the time had actually come to
her when this question must be decided, either for or against, and
decided forever.

Sunday morning at Chautauqua! A white day. There can be none of all
that throng who spent the 15th day of August, 1875, in that sacred
place, who remember it without a thrill. A perfect day! Glorious and
glowing sunshine everywhere; and beauty, such perfect beauty of lake and
grove! The God of nature smiled lovingly on Chautauqua that morning.

Our girls seemed to think that the perfect day required perfection of
attire, and it was noticeable that the taste of each settled on spotless
white, without color or ornament, other than a spray of leaves and
grasses, which one and another of them gathered almost without knowing
it, and placed in belt or hair. Outward calm, but inward unrest, at
least so far as some were concerned; Marion Wilbur among the number.