You don't marry a woman because she is religious or is inclined to tell the truth, or has this or that trait of mind. You are much more likely to fall deeply in love and to ask her to be your wife because of a certain droop of a lock of hair over her forehead; or perhaps a particular trick of smiling lips caught your fancy and set it on fire. Why, I know a man who begged a woman to be his wife just because he was convinced that she had the most delightful little lisp in the world. Fortunately, or unfortunately, she refused him, and he has since united himself to a woman whose speech is remarkable for clearness of tone. I often wonder whether he wishes that she lisped, or if he has decided that he can be happy without a lisping wife. And how remarkable it is that, when once you have won your love, the little thing which attracted you, for some mysterious reason, ceases to be attractive, and you wish her mind was something more in sympathy with yours, or that her temperament was better fitted to yours. Ah, that matter of temperament! One can put up with a good deal that is wrong if only the temperaments be rightly adjusted.

I am not going to claim these as particularly my thoughts. They were the thoughts that were going rather indefinitely through Lawrence's mind one afternoon as he lounged in a little sailboat opposite the hamlet where he was spending the summer. His wife had gone on an all-day's cycling trip with Lord Maxwell. The two had left the hotel at about ten in the morning. As Prudence had put on her gloves before leaving her room, she had remarked to her husband that she hoped he would amuse himself in some manner while she was gone. There was Caro only three miles away; he might call on her if he were not so odd.

As she spoke thus, Prudence had looked steadily for a moment at the man standing in the window with his back to the light. She could not forgive him for refusing to visit at the Ffolliotts'. His refusal seemed so absurd to her; but he persisted in it. It was now two weeks since the time when she had ventured there, and had come away thinking that Carolyn was engaged to Lord Maxwell. Since then she herself had seen a good deal of that nobleman, but she had not quite been able to make up her mind as to the existence of an engagement between him and her cousin.

Lawrence did not think it worth while to reply to this suggestion that he call on Carolyn. He was engaged at this moment in intently watching Prudence as she pulled on her gloves. Having drawn them on, she came to his side and extended a hand for him to fasten the glove.

As he performed this little office with his customary deftness, she regarded him with more care than was of late usual with her.

Since one particular interview, she had hardly been able to look at him without remembering that he had told her that he had never loved her. As she had not a particle of what she called love left for him, it was rather surprising that this remembrance should so rankle in her mind. And he did not betray—worse than that, she was sure he did not feel—the slightest irritation that she was so much with Lord Maxwell of late. How very disagreeable he was! And she had loved him; yes, she had certainly loved him even before the spice of the attempt to get him away from his betrothed was added to that feeling. She lingered a moment after her gloves were fastened, still gazing at her companion.

"What do you think of a separation?" she asked.

He looked at her quickly. "I had not thought," he answered.

"Please think, then. You let me have the crow, and a generous allowance, and I'll go my way. There seems no reason why life should be so extremely disagreeable as it has been of late. Good-by. Don't get too tired, and don't forget your medicine."

She opened the door and left the room. She returned immediately to say that she had promised Devil he might go with her to-day. She chirruped, and the bird hopped out of the door, which was closed again.

Lawrence stood in the window and saw the two ride away on their wheels, the crow flying along leisurely after them, alighting occasionally to investigate something on the ground. He saw his wife turn and call Devil just before she wheeled out of sight.

It seemed to Lawrence that he was always standing in the window watching his wife go somewhere; and always she was gay and spirited, and people liked to be with her. There was that long, light-colored Englishman,—was there any truth in the talk about him and Miss Ffolliott? It would be rather a curious thing if Prudence should take two lovers from Carolyn.

Here Lawrence shut his hand tightly, and, being alone, indulged himself in flinging his fist out into the air. But he immediately felt that this was an extremely childish action.

He supposed she was not really sincere in her remarks about a separation, but if she were—He did not finish this thought.

Recalling this day later in his life, Lawrence's mind was always somewhat confused concerning it. He knew that after lunch he had gone out in his boat, and that, instead of sailing, he had dropped anchor not far off shore. It had been a gray, cloudy day, with very little wind. Lying with his hat over his face, Lawrence had fallen into a deep sleep; and he remembered that he had dreamed horribly. When he fully awoke it was sunset, and the first thing he saw was the crescent of a very new moon set in the flush of the west, with its attendant star near it. The clouds had all dispersed; it was a superb sunset. There was not a breath of wind now, so he rowed in towards the shore; he was obliged to row very slowly, for he was not strong; it often seemed to him of late as if an unconquerable weakness had fastened upon him, and he had a morbid conviction that his wife would soon have her coveted freedom. It was unnecessary to make arrangements for a separation.

Lawrence went up to the hotel and tried to eat his dinner. Then he sat on the piazza and made an attempt to smoke. Some people who had been cycling came home, a buzz of talk and laughter heralding their approach.

In the white glare of the electric lights Lawrence looked to see Prudence and her escort wheeling up the broad driveway.

"Saw Mrs. Lawrence and Lord Maxwell on the Jerusalem Road," said one young man, as he sat down near Lawrence and lighted a cigarette. "I vow I don't know which is the better rider, your wife or Maxwell. They were talking of going over to Hull. They challenged me to come along, but I thought of the fifteen miles back here."

Presently the young man went in to dinner. Lawrence still kept his seat, though the wind had come up east with the turn of the tide towards the flood. He began to shiver, and at length rose to go and get an outside coat. He returned immediately with the coat buttoned closely about him.

It was not until near ten o'clock that he really began to wonder why Prudence did not return; and even then he was aware that this hour was not late, and particularly it was not late in these long summer days, when it seemed to be still day until far into the evening.

There was a dance in the parlors, and Lawrence tried to watch the dancers from his place on the veranda. When another hour, and yet another, had gone, and the clocks had struck twelve, the man's heart began to burn within him. It seemed to him also that one spot, on the top of his head, was on fire. But he was no longer conscious of being weak and ill. He believed he had never felt stronger in his life. He ran up the stairs to his room; but when he had arrived there he forgot what it was he had come for. He thought he said, "That cursed woman!" below his breath.

He wished he could see Carolyn Ffolliott,—not see her to speak with her, of course, but just look in her face. Just to look in her face would strengthen and comfort him, he was sure.

With this thought in his mind he left the hotel and walked away in the direction of Savin Hill. It was three miles there.

He did not expect to see Carolyn at this time of night, but the walk would take up his mind, and he was stronger than he had been since his illness. By the time he returned to the hotel perhaps Prudence and Lord Maxwell would be back.

He had got over the ground rapidly. In a short time he had entered the side gate which opened into the vegetable garden.

The brilliant starlight made it possible for him to see his way with sufficient clearness; every yard of ground was familiar and dear to him. He passed on slowly along the dew-wet path until he came to a small space which was Carolyn's flower-garden; he knew she worked in this spot with her own hands, digging and weeding, and that she allowed here only her own especial favorites.

He stood a moment here. He could not distinguish the different plants, but the warm night air brought out heavily the perfume of heliotrope and mignonette. Carolyn used to be in the habit of wearing every day a little bunch of these flowers. But then that time was a thousand years ago.

Lawrence stepped carefully into the garden and peered about until he found and gathered a sprig of each of these flowers. Holding them in his hand, he went towards the house.

As he saw a light in the room that he knew was "Aunt Tishy's," he began to fear that some one might be out in the grounds this lovely evening, and come upon him. That would be a very awkward meeting for him. But if he could happen to see Carolyn—

He walked on slowly. The turreted house towered up blackly. He heard Mrs. Ffolliott's little terrier barking somewhere within the building. He leaned against a tree that stood on the edge of the lawn. He felt like an outcast. Where were all his dreams of usefulness and happiness? He had an idea that he had been considered what is called "a promising young man." And he had really meant to do something. He smiled forlornly and tried to rouse himself. He thought that his musing was like the musing of an old man. What an inconceivable act of folly he had committed!

He shook his shoulders impatiently. He turned, thinking to retrace his steps to his hotel. Perhaps Prudence had returned by this time.

Was it possible that Carolyn was going to marry Lord Maxwell? And was that one reason why Prudence was so excessively kind to the Englishman now? His mind went galloping from one subject to another.

Something moved in the tree above him. He raised his head and looked up into the darkness of the leaves. "There are some birds there," he said, idly.

The sound was made again, and now Lawrence started quickly as something fluttered down to the ground near him. He could only dimly see a dark object which hopped close to his feet, making a little rasping noise as it did so.

Lawrence stooped quickly and lifted Devil in his hand. The crow's feet clung about his fingers, and the bird made his chuckling, strange sound and pecked blindly at the hand that held him.

Lawrence knew that he was unreasonably startled at the presence of Devil. He walked forward quickly along the gravel path, not noticing that he was on the way that led from the house.

Had Prudence returned, or had the bird decided that he would himself come home? It was not strange that the crow had flown to Savin Hill. Leander, who sometimes rode his bicycle to the hotel, had given the information that Devil was frequently at his old home.

Lawrence began to hurry. He would go back to the hotel. It had been very foolish of him to come thus far. And suddenly he was conscious of being tired; but he did not slacken his pace.

All at once he became aware that there were steps behind him, steps running. He drew back quickly into the shrubbery. Were there other prowlers besides himself in the Ffolliott grounds to-night? He hoped that he should not be seen.

The next moment he saw that it was a woman coming, and the next he was sure it was Carolyn.

She must be in trouble; something must have happened.

She seemed to fly by him, so fast she went. He heard her panting.

He stepped from the shrubbery after she had passed. His only thought was to help her.

"Carolyn!" he called.

She stopped short.

He hastened up to her.

"Carolyn!" he said, again.

She drew back a step. "What! You?" she said, in a half whisper.

"Yes. What is the matter? Oh, do let me help you!"

She came nearer now, as if in time of trouble she would naturally draw near to him. Then she started back and began to fly on again. But she cried in answer, "Lee is dreadfully ill. I'm going to send Jack on the black horse to the village for a doctor."

The words came distinctly to him as he hurried on after her. When he had taken in the meaning of her reply he stopped in the walk. There was the stable close by, and the man Jack slept in a room of the building.

Lawrence stood a moment undecided. Ought he to go away?

No; surely it was proper for him to stay and know how it was with the boy. And this used to be like a home to Lawrence. It was terrible for him to feel that it was home no longer. All the old and natural sense of protective tenderness towards this household sprang into full life again.

He hastened to the house, pausing at the side door to which he knew Carolyn would return; and indeed he found this door opened, and a light burning in the room close by. He stood here listening. All the time the crow had remained securely perched on his hand. It now flew up on his shoulder.

Presently he heard the sound of a horse's hoofs going rapidly along the road to the village. Then the light, quick footfall on the walk again, and Carolyn came up to the door.

Lawrence moved aside. The girl just glanced at him, as she hurried forward.

"Only let me wait here until you can let me know how he is," said Lawrence, quickly. "Come in," she said, hastily. "You must not stay outside."

Carolyn passed on into another room, and then he heard her go up the stairs. The young man was so well acquainted with the house that he could locate every sound.

After a few moments of waiting, Lawrence grew uncontrollably anxious. Sometimes, when a door opened, he could hear the high, sharp tones of Leander, tones that revealed that the boy was not in his right mind; sometimes the tones rose to a furious shout.

At last Lawrence could bear it no longer. He pulled the crow from his shoulder, and put it down in a chair. Then he ran up the stairs, forgetting that he was not as strong as usual. He entered Leander's room just as the boy was trying to leap from his bed, and his mother and sister were struggling to keep him there.

"Oh, Rodney! help us!" cried Mrs. Ffolliott, breathlessly.

Lawrence walked forward and put the two women aside. He held out his arms; Leander sprang into them, nearly throttling him in the violence of his embrace.

But Lawrence could not sustain the burden for more than a moment. He turned to find a seat, then he sank down on the bed, holding the boy fast all the time.

Mrs. Ffolliott was wringing her hands and crying, "Oh, what shall I do! Oh, what shall I do!"

But Carolyn was standing straight and still, her eyes on Lawrence, watching to discover if there was any way for her to help.

Leander's eyes were wildly dilated; his limbs seemed to have a convulsive movement.

"Let us try a hot bath," said Lawrence.

Then Carolyn flew to prepare it. Meanwhile Lawrence sat on the bed, the boy's arms fast about his neck, the mother walking frantically here and there in the room. Every few moments she exclaimed, "Will the doctor never come?"

But Lawrence did not say anything. His heart was heavy within him. To this mother the world itself seemed to circle about simply that her son might live upon it.

Carolyn came back to say that the bath would soon be ready. She went to her mother and put her arm about her. "Let us be as brave as we can," she whispered; and she kissed her mother's cheek.

The time dragged in that deadly way which so many of us know. Lawrence did not rise. He sat rigidly still, holding Leander. He looked at Carolyn, whose face suddenly blanched still more. She turned to her mother.

"Please see if the water is just right, mamma; you'll find Jane there."

Mrs. Ffolliott went out of the room.

"Carolyn," said Lawrence, in a voice just above a whisper.

The girl came slowly to the bed.