None of the folk of Oldmeadow saw much of me during the years I spent preparing myself to take care of their colics, rheumatism, and occasionally, I assure you, only when it was necessary, to cut off their legs. I also have taken as goodly care of their hearts, their gentle souls, and the love which they have bestowed upon me. You doubtless remember the years at Virginia in which I returned for a few short months each summer and exploited my erudition on the boys who remained at home. Also I strutted in conspicuous glory beside Nance, whom I duly treated with becoming condescension upon the part of one so wholly promising of greatness. Then they almost forgot me, though I felt I was needed betimes to tie tick-tacks upon tempting front doors, during my four years in the medical college. This was the period during which Nance was learning French and violin at some college in Boston.

Perhaps it was never before made known, but when I graduated I received a very delightful letter from Doctor Longstreet inviting me to come to Oldmeadow and really learn something about medicine! Meanwhile I was to gradually assume his practise so he might have the more time for his river.

"Then," he concluded, "when I shall have taken my immortal rod and crossed the river—praise God not into Indiana, but to some Virginia-like country, where pills are out of fashion and the only restriction worthy of mention is that the truth must needs be told about the fish you catch—you will have everything your own way here."

I might here mention that the only thing the old gentleman had against the river was that it did not flow between Virginia and Kentucky.

"Think of it," he would ejaculate; "so beautiful a river as ours and the Yankees north of it! It will be different in the next world. Then Virginia shall be on one bank and Kentucky on the other. And Yankee Indiana—" But why speak here of the place to which Indiana is duly consigned for eternity.

At any rate, with a grateful and happy heart I accepted the invitation so generously given me by Doctor Longstreet and, in due time, promptly arrived ready for business.

I had been home less than two weeks. A great deal of this time, it is true, I had given to getting settled in the office of Doctor Longstreet. I had dined once with Nance, however, and had taken part in a few scrappy conversations. There was a slight reservedness upon her part toward me which seemed to be largely because of the almost continuous absence of several years. This I believed would shortly wear off.

One late afternoon we were strolling about her yard and talking of many things: of herself when she would permit it, of Jean FranÇois, of Monsieur l'AbbÉ Picot, and the happenings of Oldmeadow. Finally we leaned against the fence and gazed across the street at the silent old house of the pillars. Its owner was away and the place looked lonely.

"Well, I'm quite grown up now," smiled Nance jestingly, "and still I have not come into my possessions.... I wonder when, Charles?" she asked, much in her old-time manner.

"When this blessed old village that we have owned for so very long," I replied, with a meaning glance toward my shining new instrument case and pill-bag, which I always carried with me, "increases my collection of patients."

Like untried youth I was unconscious of limitations. That, if Nance wanted it, I could not make money enough to buy the place, never occurred to my dreaming brain.

"It would be really wicked, I suppose, to wish they would go on and get sick," she said, "but I do think they might have you in now and then for a little friendly, advisory chat about their rheumatism, rose-bushes, and the like, that they might learn how interesting you are."

Since I have had some years in which to think of this episode, I feel that there must have been a trifle of irony in her remark. At the time it appeared serious enough.

"Never mind, Nance," I replied, "my collection of friendships is sufficiently large at present. Anyhow, just think of a statement of account like this:

"To Dr. Charles Reubelt King Dr.
Miss Jemimiah Appleblossom, Cr.

"Well, it is all right, Charles, my friend. It will come, and meanwhile we can wait for the time.... Monsieur l'AbbÉ once said to me, 'Blessed are the makers of dreams, for theirs is to own a river, divers trees, many hills, even a village, and their abode shall be a house in the heart.'"

In my memory I call that the day of faith.

"Let's go over and sit upon the portico," I suggested. It met with her approval, and a few moments later we were beneath our beloved old pillars.

"I wonder where he is?" she asked.

"Who is?" I said, for I was not interested in any third parties.

"Monsieur l'AbbÉ," she replied.

"Doubtless in New Orleans," I answered. I might just as well have said New Guinea, for I had mentioned the first place which occurred to me.

Suddenly, from far above in the sunset sky, we heard the faint, plaintive cry of wild geese.

"O, it is the sign of the coming of Jean FranÇois," she cried. "He'll be here in less than a fortnight.... Have any of you heard from him?" she asked.

"Your grandfather," I replied, still not interested.

For fully half an hour we sat and looked upon the river, watching the nightfall. It is difficult to talk at such an hour. It brings out all of your sentiments. Old memories crowd your mind and the whole is made sweet by a note of sadness.... Then Nance turned to me:

"You must tell me all about yourself, Charles, and your plans," she said, with a suddenly deepening interest.

Now what better could a man want? Here I was just out of college, young, untried, and bursting with hope. Was there anything of greater interest, I ask you, than my possibilities, my plans, my expectations? Nance was exceedingly wise. Immediately, and with enthusiasm, I launched into my attainments, and my dreams. With a sweet patience she sat and listened. (I am now inclined to think, Jean FranÇois, that, in imagination, she was with you and Rogue and Columbine somewhere upon the road.) Now I feel sure that I must have made a slight mistake in not at least hinting that if I hoped to make any money it was that I might use it to obtain the home of her heart's desire; that if I sought for honors, it was that I might take them to her, placing my triumphs at her feet as her due; and that, perhaps though illy defined in my own mind, all that I was—and it looked big to me, for had I not toiled for it?—and all that I hoped to be was because, from the old remembered days of childhood I had loved her with all of my life.... I did not hint this. Perhaps I was taking it for granted that she knew. Then you know how ambitious youth can become wrapped utterly in its expectations?... All of this I have since had ample time to see.

"It is time we returned, Charles," she at last broke in, arising from her seat.

We walked through the yard and across the street arm in arm. At the door I bade her good-night, as I had a hundred times before, by raising her flower-scented hand to my lips and kissing it while pressing her fingers ever so tenderly.

It all seemed quite the usual way, Jean FranÇois. Now wouldn't that pretty well indicate that a man had some privileges? Eh?

As for the trouble, I'll tell you how it began.