I came in to breakfast with Reuben, feeling that Dapple had been more of a gentleman than I had, for he had treated the maiden with gentleness and courtesy, while I had thought first of myself. She looked up at me as I entered so humbly and deprecatingly that I wished that I had bitten my tongue out rather than have spoken so harshly.

Straightforward Reuben went to the girl, and, holding out his hand, said:

"Emily, I want to ask thy forgiveness. I've been like a bear toward thee. Thee's the bravest girl I ever saw. No country girl would have dared to do what thee did. I didn't need to have Richard lecture me and tell me that; but I thought thee was kind of down on Richard, and I've a way of standing by my friends."

With a face like a peony she turned and took both of the boy's hands as she said warmly:

"Thank you, Reuben. I'd take a much greater risk to win your friendship, and if you'll give it to me I'll be very proud of it. You are going to make a genuine man."

"Yes, Reuben, thee'll make a man," said his mother, with a low laugh.
"Thee is as blind as a man already."

I looked at her instantly, but she dropped her eyes demurely to her plate. I saw that Mr. Hearn was watching me, and so did not look at Miss Warren.

"Well," said he irritably, "I don't like such escapades; and Emily, if anything of the kind happens again, I'll have to take you to a safer place."

His face was flushed, but hers was very pale.

"It won't happen again," she said quietly, without looking up.

"Richard," said Mr. Yocomb, as if glad to change the subject, "I've got to drive across the country on some business. I will have to be gone all day. Would thee like to go with me?"

"Certainly. I'll go with you to the ends of the earth."

"That would be too far away from mother. Thee always pulls me back very soon, doesn't thee?"

"Well, I know thee comes," replied his wife. "Don't tire Richard out; he isn't strong yet."

"Richard," said Mr. Yocomb, as we were driving up a long hill, "I want to congratulate thee on thy course toward Emily Warren. Thee's a strong-minded, sensible man. I saw that thee was greatly taken with her at first, and no wonder. Besides, I couldn't help hearing what thee said when out of thy mind. Mother and I kept the children away then, and Doctor Bates had the wink from me to be discreet; but thee's been a sensible man since thee got up, and put the whole thing away from thee very bravely."

"Mr. Yocomb, I won't play the hypocrite with you. I love her better than my own soul."

"Thee does?" he said, in strong surprise.

"Yes, and I ought to have gone away long ago, I fear. How could I see her as she appeared this morning, and not almost worship her?"

The old gentleman gave a long, low whistle. "I guess mother meant me when she said men were blind."

I was silent, not daring, of course, to say that I hoped she meant me, but what I had heard and seen that morning had done much to confirm my hope.

"Well," said the old gentleman, "I can scarcely blame thee, since she is what she is, and I can't help saying, too, that I think thee would make her happier than that man can, with all his money. I don't think he appreciates her. She will be only a part of his great possessions."

"Well, Mr. Yocomb, I've but these requests to make. Keep this to yourself, and don't interpose any obstacles to my going next Monday. Don't worry about me. I'll keep up; and a man who will have to work as I must won't have time to mope. I won't play the weak fool, for I'd rather have your respect and Mrs. Yocomb's than all Mr. Hearn's millions; and Miss Warren's respect is absolutely essential to me."

"Then thee thinks that mother and—and Emily know?"

"Who can hide anything from such women! They look through us as if we were glass."

"Mother's sermon meant more for thee than I thought."

"Yes, I felt as if it were preached for me. I hope I may be the better for it some day; but I've too big a fight on my hands now to do much else. You will now understand why I wish to get away so soon, and why I can't come back till I've gained a strength that is not bodily. I wouldn't like you to misunderstand me, after your marvellous kindness, and so I'm frank. Besides, you're the kind of man that would thaw an icicle. Your nature is large and gentle, and I don't mind letting you know."

"Richard, we're getting very frank, and I'm going to be more so. I don't like the way Mr. Hearn sits and looks at Adah."

"Oh, you needn't worry about him. Mr. Hearn is respectability itself; but he's wonderfully fond of good things and pretty things. His great house on Fifth Avenue is full of them, and he looks at Miss Adah as he would at a fine oil painting."

"Thee speaks charitably of him under the circumstances."

"I ought to try to do him justice, since I hate him so cordially."

"Well," said the old gentleman, laughing, "that's a new way of putting it. Thee's honest, Richard."

"If I wasn't I'd have no business in your society."

"I'm worried about Emily," broke out my companion. "She was a little thin and worn from her long season of work when she came to us lately; but the first week she picked up daily. While thee was so sick she seemed more worried than any one, and I had much ado to get her to eat enough to keep a bird alive; but it's been worse for the last two weeks. She has seemed much brighter lately for some reason, but the flesh just seems to drop off of her. She takes a wonderful hold of my feelings, and I can't help troubling about her."

"Mr. Yocomb, your words torture me," I cried. "It is not my imagination then. Can she love that man?"

"Well, she has a queer way of showing it; but it is one of those things that an outsider can't meddle with."

I was moody and silent the rest of the day, and Mr. Yocomb had the tact to leave me much to myself; but I was not under the necessity of acting my poor farce before him.

The evening was quite well advanced when we reached the farmhouse; but Mrs. Yocomb had a royal supper for us, and she said every one had insisted on waiting till we returned. Mr. Hearn had quite recovered his complacency, and I gathered from this fact that Miss Warren had been very devoted. Such was his usual aspect when everything was pleasing to him. But she who had added so much to his life had seemingly drained her own, for she looked so pale and thin that my heart ached. There were dark lines under her eyes, and she appeared exceedingly wearied, as if the day had been one long effort.

"She can't love him," I thought. "It's impossible. Confound him! he's the blindest man of us all. Oh that I had her insight, that I might unravel this snarl at once, for it would kill me to see her looking like that much longer. What's the use of my going away? I've been away all day; she has had the light of his smiling countenance uninterruptedly, and see how worn she is. Can it be that my hateful words hurt her, and that she is grieving about me only? It's impossible. Unselfish regard for another could not go so far if her own heart was at rest. She is doing her best to laugh and talk and to seem cheerful, but her acting now is poorer than mine ever was. She is tired out; she seems like a soldier who is fighting mechanically after spirit, courage, and strength are gone."

Mr. Hearn informed Mr. Yocomb that important business would require his presence in New York for a few days. "It's an enterprise that involves immense interests on both sides of the ocean, and there's to be quite a gathering of capitalists. Your paper will be full of it before very long, Mr. Morton."

"I'm always glad to hear of any grist for our mill," I said. "Mrs.
Yocomb, please excuse me. I'm selfish enough to prefer the cool piazza."

"But thee hasn't eaten anything."

"Oh, yes, I have, and I made a huge dinner," I replied carelessly, and sauntered out and lighted a cigar. Instead of coming out on the piazza, as I hoped, Miss Warren bade Mr. Hearn good-night in the hall, and, pleading fatigue, went to her room.

She was down to see him off in the morning, and at his request accompanied him to the depot. I was reading on the piazza when she returned, and I hastened to assist her from the rockaway.

"Miss Warren," I exclaimed, in deep solicitude, "this long, hot ride has been too much for you."

"Perhaps it has," she replied briefly, without meeting my eyes. "I'll go and rest."

She pleaded a headache, and did not come down to dinner. Mrs. Yocomb returned from her room with a troubled face.

I had resolved that I would not seek to see her alone while Mr. Hearn was away, and so resumed my long rambles. When I returned, about supper time, she was sitting on the piazza watching Adela and Zillah playing with their dolls. She did not look up as I took a seat on the steps not far away.

At last I began, "Can I tell you that I am very sorry you have been ill to-day?"

"I wasn't dangerous, as country people say," she replied, a little brusquely.

"You look as if Dapple might run over you now."

"A kitten might run over me," she replied briefly, still keeping her eyes on the children.

By and by she asked, "Why do you look at me so intently, Mr. Morton?"

"I beg your pardon."

"That's not answering my question."

"Suppose I deny that I was looking at you. You have not condescended to glance at me yet."

"You had better not deny it."

"Well, then, to tell you the truth, as I find I always must, I was looking for some trace of mercy. I was thinking whether I could venture to ask forgiveness for being more of a brute than Dapple yesterday."

"Have your words troubled you very much?"

"They have indeed."

"Well, they've troubled me too. You think I'm heartless, Mr. Morton;" and she arose and went to her piano.

I followed her instantly. "Won't you forgive me?" I asked; "I've repented."

"Oh, nonsense, Mr. Morton. You know as well as I do that I'm the one to ask forgiveness."

"No, I don't," I said, in a low, passionate tone. "I fear you are grieving about what you can't help."

"Can't help?" she repeated, flushing.

"Yes, my being here makes you unhappy. If I knew it, I'd go to-night."

"And you think that out of sight would be out of mind," she said, with a strange smile.

"Great God! I don't know what to think. I know that I would do anything under heaven to make you look as you did the first night I saw you."

"Do I look so badly?"

"You look as if you might take wings and leave us at any moment."

"Then I wouldn't trouble you any more."

"Then my trouble would be without remedy. Marry Mr. Hearn; marry him to-morrow, if you wish. I assure you that if you will be honestly and truly happy, I won't mope a day—I'll become the jolliest old bachelor in New York. I'll do anything within the power of man to make you your old joyous self."

Now at last she turned her large, glorious eyes upon me, and their expression was sadness itself; but she only said quietly:

"I believe you, Mr. Morton."

"Then tell me, what can I do?"

"Come to supper;" and she rose and left me.

I went to my old seat by the window, and the tumult in my heart was in wide contrast with the quiet summer evening.

"You are mistaken, Emily Warren," I thought. "You have as much as said that I can do nothing for you. I'll break your chain. You shall not marry Gilbert Hearn, if I have to protest in the very church and before the altar. You are mine, by the best and divinest right, and with your truth as my ally I'll win you yet. From this hour I dedicate myself to your happiness. Heavens, how blind I've been!"

"Come, Richard," said Mrs. Yocomb, putting her head within the door.

Miss Warren sat in her place, silent and apathetic. She had the aspect of one who had submitted to the inevitable, but would no longer pretend she liked it. Mr. Yocomb was regarding her furtively, with a clouded brow, and Adah's glances were frequent and perplexed. I felt as if walking on air, and my heart was aglow with gladness; but I knew her far too well to show what was in my mind. My purpose now was to beguile the hours till I could show her what truth really required of her. With the utmost tact that I possessed, and with all the zest that hope confirmed inspired, I sought to diffuse a general cheerfulness, and I gradually drew her into the current of our talk. After supper I told them anecdotes of public characters and eminent people, for my calling gave me a great store of this kind of information. Ere she was aware, the despondent girl was asking questions, and my answers piqued her interest still more; at last, quite late in the evening, Mr. Yocomb exclaimed:

"Look here, Richard, what right has thee to keep me out of my bed long after regular hours? I'm not a night editor. Good people, you must all go to bed. I'm master of this house. Now, don't say anything, mother, to take me down."

Finding myself alone with Miss Warren a moment in the hall, I asked:

"Have I not done more than merely come to supper?"

She turned from me instantly, and went swiftly up the stairway.

But the apathetic, listless look was on her face when she came down in the morning, and she appeared as if passively yielding to a dreaded necessity. I resumed my old tactics, and almost in spite of herself drew her into the genial family life. Mr. Yocomb seconded me with unflagging zeal and commendable tact, while Mrs. Yocomb surpassed us both. Adah seemed a little bewildered, as if there were something in the air which she could not understand. But we made the social sunshine of the house so natural and warm that she could not resist it.

"Reuben," I said, after breakfast, "Miss Warren is not well. A ride after Dapple is the best medicine I ever took. Take Miss Warren out for a swift, short drive; don't let her say no. You have the tact to do the thing in the right way."

She did decline repeatedly, but he so persisted that she at last said:

"There, Reuben, I will go with you."

"I think thee might do that much for a friend, as thee calls me."

When she returned there was a faint color in her cheeks. The rapid drive had done her good, and I told her so as I helped her from the light wagon.

"Yes, Mr. Morton, it has, and I thank you for the drive very much.
Let me suggest that Reuben is much too honest for a conspirator."

"Well, he was a very willing one; and I see by his face, as he drives down to the barn, that you have made him a happy one."

"It doesn't take much to make him happy."

"And would it take such an enormous amount to make you happy?"

"You are much too inclined to be personal to be an editor. The world at large should hold your interest;" and she went to her room.

At the dinner-table the genial spell worked on; she recognized it with a quiet smile, but yielded to its kindly power. At last she apparently formed the resolution to make the most of this one bright day, and she became the life of the party.

"Emily," said Mrs. Yocomb, as we rose from the table, "father proposes that we all go on a family picnic to Silver Pond, and take our supper there. It's only three miles away. Would thee feel strong enough to go?"

Mrs. Yocomb spoke with the utmost simplicity and innocence; but the young girl laughed outright, then fixed a penetrating glance on Mr. Yocomb, whose florid face became much more ruddy.

"Evidences of guilt clearly apparent," she said, "and Mr. Morton, too, looks very conscious. 'The best laid schemes of mice and men'—you know the rest. Oh, yes, I'd go if I had to be carried. When webs are spun so kindly, flies ought to be caught."

"What is the matter with you all?" cried Adah.

"Miss Adah, if you'll find me a match for my cigar you'll make me happy," I said hastily, availing myself of the first line of retreat open.

"Is that all thee needs to make thee happy?"

"Well, one thing at a time, Miss Adah, if you please."

As the day grew cool, Reuben came around with the family rockaway. Mrs. Yocomb and Adah had prepared a basket as large as their own generous natures. I placed Miss Warren beside Mrs. Yocomb on the back seat, while I took my place by Adah, with Zillah between us. Little Adela and Reuben had become good friends, and she insisted on sitting between him and his father.

As we rolled along the quiet country roads, chatting, laughing, and occasionally singing a snatch of a song, no one would have dreamed that any shadows rested on the party except those which slanted eastward from the trees, which often hung far over our heads.

I took pains not to feign any forced gayety, nor had I occasion to, for I was genuinely happy—happier than I had ever been before. Nothing was assured save the absolute truth of the woman that I loved, but with this ally I was confident. I was impartial in my attentions to Adah and Zillah, and so friendly to both that Adah was as pleased and happy as the child. We chaffed the country neighbors whom we met, and even chattered back at the barking squirrels that whisked before us along the fences. Mr. Yocomb seemed almost as much of a boy as Reuben, and for some reason Miss Warren always laughed most at his pleasantries. Mrs. Yocomb looked as placid and bright as Silver Pond, as it at last glistened beneath us in the breathless, sunny afternoon; but like the clear surface fringed with shadows that sank far beneath the water, there were traces of many thoughts in her large blue eyes.

There was a cow lying under the trees where we meant to spread our table. I pointed her out to Miss Warren with humorous dismay. "Shall we turn back?" I asked.

"No," she replied, looking into my eyes gratefully. "You have become so brave that I'm not afraid to go on."

I ignored her reference to that which I intended she should forget for one day, believing that if we could make her happy she would recognize how far her golden-haloed lover came short of this power. So I said banteringly, "I'll wager you my hat that you dare not get out and drive that terrific beast away."

"The idea of Emily's being afraid of a cow, after facing Dapple!" cried
Reuben.

"Well, we'll see," I said. "Stop the rockaway here."

"What should I do with your hat, Mr. Morton?"

"Wear it, and suffer the penalty," laughed Adah.

"You would surely win it," retorted the girl, a little nettled.

"I'll wager you a box of candy then, or anything you please."

"Let it be anything I please," she agreed, laughing. "Mr. Morton, you are not going to let me get out alone?"

"Oh, no," and I sprang out to assist her down.

"She wants you to be on hand in case the ferocious beast switches its tail," cried Adah.

The hand she gave me trembled as I helped her out, and I saw that she regarded the placid creature with a dread that she could not disguise. Picking up a little stick, she stepped cautiously and hesitatingly toward the animal. While still ridiculously far away, she stopped, brandished her stick, and said, with a quaver in her threatening tone, "Get up, I tell you!"

But the cow ruminated quietly as if understanding well that there was no occasion for alarm.

The girl took one or two more faltering steps, and exclaimed, in a voice of desperate entreaty, "Oh, please get up!"

We could scarcely contain ourselves for laughter.

"Oh, ye gods! how beautiful she is!" I murmured. "With her arm over Dapple's neck she was a goddess. Now she's a shrinking woman. Heaven grant that it may be my lot to protect her from the real perils of life!"

The cow suddenly switched her tail at a teasing gadfly, and the girl precipitately sought my side.

Reuben sprang out of the rockaway and lay down and rolled in his uncontrollable mirth.

"Was there anything ever so ridiculous?" cried Adah; for to the country girl Miss Warren's fear was affectation.

At Adah's words Miss Warren's face suddenly became white and resolute.

"You, at least, shall not despise me," she said to me in a low tone; and shutting her eyes she made a blind rush toward the cow. I had barely time to catch her, or she would have thrown herself on the horns of the startled animal that, with tail in air, careered away among the trees. The girl was so weak and faint that I had to support her; but I could not forbear saying, in a tone that she alone heard:

"Do we ever despise that which we love supremely?"

"Hush!" she answered sternly.

Mrs. Yocomb was soon at our side with a flask of currant wine, and Adah laughed a little bitterly as she said, "It was 'as good as a play'!" Miss Warren recovered herself speedily by the aid of the generous wine, and this was the only cloud on our simple festivity. In her response to my ardent words she seemingly had satisfied her conscience, and she acted like one bent on making the most of this one occasion of fleeting pleasure.

Adah was the only one who mentioned the banker. "How Mr. Hearn would have enjoyed being here with us!" she exclaimed.

Miss Warren's response was a sudden pallor and a remorseful expression; but Mr. Yocomb and I speedily created a diversion of thought; I saw, however, that Adah was watching her with a perplexed brow. The hours quickly passed, and in the deepening shadows we returned homeward, Miss Warren singing some sweet old ballads, to which my heart kept time.

She seemed both to bring the evening to a close, and sat down at the piano. Adah and I listened, well content. Having put the children to bed Mrs. Yocomb joined us, and we chatted over the pleasant trip while waiting for Mr. Yocomb and Reuben, who had not returned from the barn. At last Mrs. Yocomb said heartily, as if summing it all up:

"Well, Richard, thee's given us a bright, merry afternoon."

"Yes, Richard," Miss Warren began, as if her heart had spoken unawares—"I beg your pardon—Mr. Morton—" and then she stopped in piteous confusion, for I had turned toward her with all my unspeakable love in my face.

Adah's laugh rang out a little harshly.

I hastened to the rescue of the embarrassed girl, saying, "I don't see why you should beg my pardon. We're all Friends here. At least I'm trying to be one as fast as a leopard can change his spots and the Ethiopian his skin. As for you, a tailor would say you were cut from the same cloth as Mrs. Yocomb."

But for some reason she could not recover herself. She probably realized, in the tumult of her feeling, that she had revealed her heart too clearly, and she could not help seeing that Adah understood her. She was too confused for further pretence, and too unnerved to attempt it. After a moment of pitiful hesitation she fled with a scarlet face to her room.

"Well," said Adah, with a slight hysterical laugh, "I understand Emily
Warren now."

"Pardon me, Miss Adah, I don't think you do," I began.

"If thee doesn't, thee's blind indeed."

"I am blind."

"Be assured I'm not any longer," and with a deep angry flush she, too, left us.

I turned to Mrs. Yocomb, and taking both of her hands I entreated, "As you have the heart of a woman, never let Emily Warren marry that man. Help me—help us both!"

"My poor boy," she began, "this is a serious matter—"

"It is indeed," I said, passionately; "it's a question of life and death to us both."

"Well," she said, thoughtfully, "I think time and truth will be on thy side in the end; but I would advise thee not to do or say anything rash or hasty. She is very resolute. Give her time."

Would to God I had taken her advice!