UNCLE TERRY

 A Story of the Maine Coast

 BY CHARLES CLARK MUNN

 Author of "Pocket Island"

 _ILLUSTRATED BY HELENA HIGGINBOTHAM_

BOSTONLEE AND SHEPARDM C M

COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY LEE AND SHEPARD

_All rights reserved_

Rockwell and Churchill PressBOSTON, U. S. A. 

 To

 THOSE WHO LOVE TO WANDER OVER GREEN MEADOWS, ALONG MIRTHFUL BROOKS, OR BENEATH FOREST TREES WHERE THE BIRDS DWELL, OR FIND CONTENT ON LONELY SHORES AND MUSIC IN THE OCEAN'S VOICE, This book is respectfully dedicated BY THE AUTHOR

[Illustration: THE HOME OF UNCLE TERRY]

CONTENTS

I. A WAIF OF THE SEA

II. UNCLE TERRY

III. TWO ORPHANS

IV. A SPIDER IN HIS DEN

V. WAYS THAT ARE DARK

VI. A PUSH DOWNWARD

VII. A SERMON

VIII. A HELPING HAND

IX. SHARP PRACTICE

X. AMID THE GREEN MOUNTAINS

XI. BY THE FIRESIDE

XII. A COUNTRY SCHOOLMA'AM

XIII. SOUTHPORT ISLAND

XIV. A LEGALIZED PICKPOCKET

XV. THE VALUE OF GOOD EXAMPLE

XVI. SWEET ALICE

XVII. A BY-WAY SCHOOLHOUSE

XVIII. VILLAGE GOSSIP

XIX. PLOTS AND PLANS

XX. A PAIR OF BLUE EYES

XXI. A NEW CLIENT

XXII. UNCLE TERRY'S GUEST

XXIII. A STRANGE STORY

XXIV. A WHISPER OF THE OCEAN

XXV. THE "GYPSY" RETURNS

XXVI. THE MISER IN HIS DEN

XXVII. IN SHADY WOODS

XXVIII. WHERE THE LILIES GROW

XXIX. A FRIEND AT COURT

XXX. NEMESIS

XXXI. THE GLAD HAND

XXXII. THE DEMNITION GRIND

XXXIII. OLD AND YOUNG

XXXIV. FIRELIGHT FLASHES

XXXV. THE "WIDDER" LEACH

XXXVI. A NAMELESS COVE

XXXVII. AMID FALLING LEAVES

XXXVIII. THE OLD SONGS

XXXIX. SOCIETY

XL. "YES OR NO"

XLI. AN HEIRESS

XLII. THE PATHOS OF LIFE

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THE HOME OF UNCLE TERRY

UNCLE TERRY AND TELLY

ALICE

THE OLD MILL

UNCLE TERRY

A STORY OF THE MAINE COAST

CHAPTER I

A WAIF OF THE SEA

"It's goin' to be a nasty night, " said Uncle Terry, coming in from theshed and dumping an armful of wood in the box behind the kitchen stove, "an' the combers is just a-humpin' over White Hoss Ledge, an' thespray's flyin' half way up the lighthouse. "

"The Lord-a-massy help any poor soul that goes ashore to-night, "responded a portly, white-haired woman beside the stove, as a monsterwave made the little dwelling tremble. 

Uncle Terry took off his dripping sou'wester and coat, and, hanging themover the wood box, went to the sink and began pumping a basin of water. 

"Better have some warm, Silas, " said the woman, taking the steamingkettle from the stove and following him; "it's more comfortin'. "

When he had washed, and combed his scanty gray locks and beard at asmall mirror, he stood for a moment beside the stove. His weather-beatenface that evinced character, so pronounced were its features, wore asmile, and his deep-set gray eyes emitted a twinkle. 

"Supper 'most ready, Lissy?" he asked, eyeing a pot on the stove thatgave out an appetizing odor. "I'm hungry 'nough to eat a mule with theharness on!"

"'Twill be in a minit, " was the reply. "Better go into t'other roomwhere Telly's settin' the table. "

Uncle Terry obeyed, and, finding a bright fire burning there, stood backto it, smiling affectionately at a young girl busy beside the table. Shehad an oval face, a rather thin and delicate nose, small sweet mouth, and eyes that were big, blue, and appealing. A wealth of light hair wascoiled on the back of her head, and her form was full and rounded. 

"It's blowing hard to-night, father, isn't it?" she observed. "I canfeel the waves shake the house. " Then, not waiting for an answer, shestepped to a closet, and bringing a short gray coat and felt slippers, pushed an arm-chair to the fire, and placing the slippers beside it, held the coat ready for him to put it on. 

"You might as well be comfortable, " she added; "you haven't got to goout again, have you?"

The man seated himself, and drawing off his wet boots and putting on hisslippers, opened his hands toward the blaze and observed: "You andLissy's bound to cosset me, so bimeby I won't stir out 'cept the sunshines. "

Silas Terry, or Uncle Terry, as everybody on Southport Island calledhim, was, and for thirty years had been, the keeper of "The Cape" light, situated on the outermost point of the island. To this he added thedaily duty of mail carrier to the head of the island, eight milesdistant, and there connecting with a small steamer plying between theMaine coast islands and a shore port. He also, in common with other ofthe islanders, tilled a little land and kept a few traps set forlobsters. He was an honest, kind-hearted, and fairly well-read man, whose odd sayings and quaint phrases were proverbial. With his wife, whom everybody called Aunt Lissy, and adopted daughter Telly, he livedin a neat white house close to the Cape light and, as he put it, "hislatch-string was allus out. "

Uncle Terry had a history, and not the least interesting episode in itwas the entrance into his life of this same fair and blue-eyed girl. Perhaps his own graphic description will best tell the tale:

"It was 'bout the last o' March, nigh onto eighteen year ago, anddurin' one o' the worst blows I ever rec'clect since I kep' the light, that one mornin' I spied a vessel hard an' fast on White Hoss Ledge, 'bout half a mile off the pint. It had been snowin' some an' froze onthe windows o' the light, so mebbe she didn't see it 'fore she fetchedup all standin'. The seas was poundin' her like great guns, an' in herriggin' I could see the poor devils half hid in snow an' ice. Tharwa'n't no hope for 'em, for no dory could 'a' lived a moment in thatawful gale, and thar wa'n't no lifeboat here. Lissy an' me made haste tobuild a fire on the pint, to show the poor critturs we had feelin' for'em, an' then we just stood an' waited an' watched for 'em to go down. It might 'a' been an hour, there's no tellin', when I saw a big bundletossin' light, an' comin' ashore. I ran over to the cove where I keep myboats, and grabbed a piece o' rope an' boat hook, and made ready. TheLord must 'a' steered that bundle, for it kept workin' along, headin'for a bit o' beach just by the pint. I had a rope round my waist, an'Lissy held onto the end, an' when the bundle struck I made fast with theboat hook and the next comber tumbled me end over, bundle an' all, uponto the sand. I grabbed at it, an' 'fore the next one come, had it highan' dry out o' the way. 

"It's allus been a puzzle to me just why I did it, for I was wetthrough an' most froze, an' what I'd pulled out looked like a featherbed tied round with a cord, but I out with my knife an' cut the cords, an' thar in the middle o' two feather beds was a box, an' in the box ababy alive an' squallin'!

"I didn't stop to take the rope off my waist, but grabbed the box an'ran for the house with Lissy after me. We had a fire in the stove, an'Lissy warmed a blanket and wrapped the poor thing up an' held it overthe stove an' kissed it and took on just as wimmin will. When I see itwas safe I cut for the pint, thinkin' to wave my hat an' show 'em we hadsaved the baby, but a squall o' snow had struck in an' when it let upthe vessel was gone. Thar was bits o' wreck cum ashore, pieces o' spars, a boat all stove in, an' the like, an' a wooden shoe. In the box thebaby was in was two little blankets, an', tied in a bit o' cloth, tworings an' a locket with two picters in it, an' a paper was pinned to thebaby's clothes with furrin writin' on it. It said the baby's name wasEtelka Peterson, an' 'To God I commend my child, ' an' signed, 'Adespairin' mother. ' From bits o' the wreck we learned the vessel wasfrom Stockholm, an' named 'Peterson. '

"The paper was sech a heart-techin' appeal, an' as we'd just buried ouronly child, a six-year-old gal, we was glad to adopt this 'un an' bringher up. In due course o' time I made a report o' the wreck to theLighthouse Board, an' that we had saved one life, a gal baby, an' giveall the facts. Nothin' ever came on't, though, an' we was glad thardidn't. We kep' the little gal, an' she wa'n't long in growin' into ourfeelin's, an' the older she growed, the more we thought o' her. "

Of course the history of Uncle Terry's protegée was known to everyresident of the island, and as she grew into girlhood and attendedschool at the Cape--as the little village a quarter mile back of thepoint was called--until she matured into a young lady, every one came tofeel that, in a way, she belonged to the kindly lighthouse keeper andhis wife Melissa. 

To them she was all that a devoted daughter could be, and when schooldays were over she became Uncle Terry's almost constant companion. Onpleasant days she went with him to attend his traps, and on his dailydrive to the head of the island. She was welcome in every house and wellbeloved by all those simple, kindly people, who felt an unusual interestin her existence. Of tender heart and timid nature, her appealing eyeswon the love of young and old. On Sunday evenings she was always one ofthe small congregation that gathered to hold simple services in thelittle church at the Cape--a square one-story building that never knewpaint or shutters. 

[Illustration: UNCLE TERRY AND TELLY]

Of beaux she hardly knew the meaning, and it must be said the few youngmen who remained on the island after reaching the age of courtship wereneither in garb nor manners such as would attract a girl like Telly. 

One special talent she was gifted with and that the ability to draw andpaint well. Even as a child at school she would draw pictures on a slatethat were surprising, and when older, and she obtained materials, sheworked until she became, in a way, quite an artist. As Uncle Terry putit, "Makin' picters comes nat'rl to the gal. "

She had never received even the first lessons in that charming art, butfor all that every room in the house had dozens of her efforts, largeand small, hanging on the walls, and in the oddest frames. Some were ofstrips of thin board covered with little shells or dried moss, andothers of rustic handiwork and mounted with fir cones. 

There was but one shadow in her life and that the fact that no one ofthe relatives she imagined she must have in far-off Sweden ever made anyeffort to learn the fate of her parents, who she knew had gone down sonear her home. The story of her rescue with all its pitiful details wasfamiliar to her and in her room were treasured all the odd bits ofwreckage: the locket that contained her parents' pictures; the tworings; the last message of her mother; and even the wooden shoe that hadfloated ashore. How many times she had looked at those two picturedfaces, one a reflection of her own, how many tears she had shed insecret over them, and how, year after year, she wondered if ever in herlife some relative would be known to her, no one, not even herfoster-parents, ever knew. Neither did they know how many times she hadtried to imagine the moment when her despairing mother, with death near, and with prayers and tears, had cast her adrift, hoping that the onelittle life most dear to that mother might be saved. The fatal reefwhere those parents had gone down also held for her a weird fascination, and at times the voice of the ocean seemed like the despairing cries ofmortals. One picture, and it was her best, was a view of the wreck, asnear as Uncle Terry could describe it, with human forms clinging to theice-clad rigging and tempestuous seas leaping over them. The subjectheld an uncanny influence over her, and she had spent months on thepicture. But this shadow of her life she kept carefully guarded fromall. 

CHAPTER II

UNCLE TERRY

"I wa'n't consulted 'bout comin' into this world, " said Uncle Terryonce, "an' I don't 'spect to be 'bout goin' out. I was born on a waybackfarm in Connecticut, where the rocks was so thick we used ter round thesheep up once a week an' sharpen thar noses on the grin'stun, so't theycould get 'em 'tween the stuns. I walked a mile to school winters, an'stubbed my toes on the farm summers, till I was fourteen, an' then theold man 'greed to give me my time till I was twenty-one if I'ud pay himhalf I earned. I had a colt an' old busted wagon, an' I took todickerin'. I bought eggs an' honey an' pelts of all sorts, an' peddlednotions an' farmin' tools. When I cum of age I went to the city an'turned trader an' made a little money; got married an' cum down intoMaine an' bought a gold mine. I've got it yit! That is, I've got thehole whar I s'posed the mine was. Most o' my money went into it an'stayed thar. Then I got a chance to tend light and ketch lobsters, an'hev stuck to it ever since. I take some comfort livin' and try an' passit along. The widder Leach calls me a scoffer, but she allus comes to mewhen she's needin', an' don't allus have to cum, either. My life's beenlike most everybody else's--a streak o' lean an' a streak o' fat, withlean predominatin'. 'Twas a streak o' fat when I found a good woman an'she said 'yes, ' an' a streak o' lean when I was bamboozled by a lawyerinto buyin' a gold mine. I've kep' that hole ever since an' paid taxeson't, to prove to myself jest how big a fool a man can be an' live. 

"I've never wronged nobody, nor done much prayin', an' when the Almightycalls me I think I'll stand jest as good a chance o' gittin' a harp asthose who's done more on't. The worst skinnin' I ever got was done bythis ere lawyer who never sot down to meals 'thout askin' a blessin', an' mebbe that's the reason I'm a scoffer. I've observed a good dealsince I left the old farm, an' have come to the belief that thar's asucker born every minit and two ter ketch him. When I was young I tookhold o' the big end o' the log an' did the liftin'; but now I take holdo' the little end an' do the gruntin'! Thar's one thing I've larned, andlarned it for sartin, an' that is, thar's dum few people in this worldthat cut a ham in the middle. Most on 'em cut few slices an' cut 'emthin. "

Among the Southport islanders Uncle Terry was considered an odd stick, and yet one who would go out of his way to do a good turn to others. Hewas seldom seen at church, though his wife and Telly usually were. As heonce remarked: "It's a good thing for 'em, 'cause it takes up thar mindan' is more sociable, tho' prayin' allus seems to me a good deal like aman tryin' to lift himself by his boot-straps. It keeps him busy, tho', an' it's healthy exercise. "

In spite of his investment in a mine, he had been frugal and owned mostof the land between the village and the point, and was also joint owner, with two other men, in a small trading-schooner that made semi-monthlytrips between the Cape and Boston. She carried fish, clams, lobsters, hay, and potatoes, and fetched an "all sorts" cargo useful to theislanders, from a paper of needles to a hogshead of molasses. 

The most pronounced characteristic of Uncle Terry was his unfailing goodhumor, tinged with a mild sarcasm. He loved his fellow-men, and yetenjoyed puncturing their small conceits, but so droll was his way ofdoing it that no one felt the sting. To Bascom, who kept the only store, and also post-office, at the Cape, and dearly loved to hear himselftalk, Uncle Terry once said: "You've got the greatest gift o' gab I everheerd, Bascom, and you could 'a' made your fortin in the show business. But if you're ever took with religion, the hull island'll turninfiddle. "

And again: when Deacon Oaks, the leader at all prayer-meetings, assuredhim how great a blessing religion was, and how much he enjoyed divineservice, Uncle Terry answered: "Your takin' the lead at meetin's is ablessin' to the rest, for none of 'em has to worry 'bout who's goin' tospeak next. They know you're allus ready. "

In this connection it must be stated that the spiritual life ofSouthport was of a primitive description. The small unpainted church atthe Cape, above which hung a diminutive bell, was the only place ofworship, and to this, every other Sunday, came a minister from themainland. It was furnished with long wooden settees and a small cottageorgan graced the platform, upon which an antique desk did duty as pulpitand a storage place for hymn books. Four wall bracket lamps lighted thisroom for evening service, and their usually smoky chimneys lent adepressing effect to all exhortation. "Mandy" Oaks presided at the organand turned gospel hymns into wheezy and rather long-drawn-out melodies. Most of the audience tried to chase the tunes along and imagined theywere singing, which, perhaps, is all that is necessary. On the Sundaysbetween the minister's visits only evening services were held, andevery Thursday evening a prayer-meeting. It was on these latteroccasions that Deacon Oaks was in conspicuous evidence. The Widow Leach, a poor unfortunate woman who had seen better days, and in whose povertystricken life religion was the only consolation, was also prominent; andher testimony, unvarying in tenor as the tunes played by Mandy, helpedto fill out the service. 

"It's lucky the widow's sure o' lots o' happiness in the next world, "observed Uncle Terry once, "for she ain't gittin' much in this. 

"I can't hear Oaks, though, 'thout thinkin' o' Deacon Rogers up inWolcott, who never mentioned the need o' rain till he'd got his hay in. He was a sly fox, and allus thanked the Lord for sendin' rain nights an'Sundays, so the poor hired men could rest. 

"I used to have him held up as a shinin' example, but he opened my eyesarter I began dickerin' by sellin' me a lot o' eggs that had been sot ontwo weeks, an' the storeman I sold 'em to never trusted me agin. 'Twas acase o' the ungodly sufferin' for the sins o' the righteous that time, which may be a pervarsion o' Scriptur, but the truth, just the same. 

"But I got a little comfort finally, for when the Deacon died, by someinadvartance the choir sang, 'Praise God from whom all blessin's flow, 'an' I wa'n't the only one who felt that way, either. "

In spite of Uncle Terry's mildly flavored shafts of sarcasm, he made noenemies and his kind heart and sterling honesty were respected far andnear. He was considered a doubter and skeptic, and though seldom seen atchurch, as he had originally contributed his share when that edifice wasbuilt, his lack of piety was forgiven. 

There is a sense of justice underlying all men's minds, and the naturalinstinct is to judge others by what they are and how they live, ratherthan by what they profess, and so it was in Uncle Terry's case. He livedtruthfully, obeyed his conscience, observed the Golden Rule, wronged noone, and as with many others who do likewise, he had a right to feelthat in the final balance his book of life would show a wide margin onthe credit side. 

CHAPTER III

TWO ORPHANS

A stranger visiting Sandgate on a summer afternoon would inevitablyconclude the town was asleep. Often not a person would be visible theentire length of its main street, cooled by three rows of maples, onedividing it, and one shading each of the two sidewalks formed of narrowstrips of weather-stained marble. Under some of these trees that almosttouch branches for half a mile one or two cows might be grazing ortaking a siesta while chewing the cud of content. On the vine-hid porchof the village tavern landlord Pell would quite likely be dozing in anarm-chair tilted back, and across the way Mr. Hobbs, who keeps the onegeneral store, would as likely be napping on a counter, his headpillowed upon a pile of calico. A little further up the street and nearthe one tall-spired white church Mrs. Mears, the village gossip, may besitting on the veranda of a small house almost hid by luxuriantlygrowing Norway spruce, and idly rocking while she chats with the widowSloper, who lives there, and whose mission in life is to cut and fitthe best "go to meetin'" gowns of female Sandgate. Both dearly love totalk over all that's going on, and whether this or that village swain ispaying especial attention to any one rosy cheeked lass, and if so"what's likely to come on't. " Both mean well by this neighborlyinterest, and especially does Mrs. Sloper, who always advises plaits forstout women, "with middlin' fulness in the bust" for thin ones. 

One or two men may be at work haying in the broad meadows west of thevillage, through which the slow current of a small river twists andturns, or others wielding hoes on a hillside field of corn to the east, but so far as moving life in the village street goes there will be none. On either side of the Sandgate valley two spurs of the Green MountainRange, forest-clad, stand guard as if to isolate from all the world thispeaceful dale, whose dwellers' sole ambition in life may be summed upin--to plow, plant, reap, and go to meeting. 

On the north end of this park-like highway, and beyond the last house, it narrows to an ordinary roadway and divides. One fork turns to theright, following up the banks of a winding stream to an old grist-millwith moss-covered wheel and lily-dotted pond above. The other turns tothe left, crosses the narrow Sandgate valley, and bears south past thePage place. If it were Sunday, not many years ago, and about eleven inthe morning, a stranger passing the church would have heard through theopen doors and windows the exquisitely sweet voice of Alice Page, clearas a bell and melodious as a bird's, toying and trilling through"Coronation, " or some other easily recognized hymn; and had thatstranger awaited the close of service he or she would have seen amongthe congregation filing out one petite and plump little lady, withflower-like face, sparkling blue eyes, and kiss-inspiring mouth, whowould most likely have walked demurely along with her big brotherAlbert, and turning down a narrow pathway, follow him across themeadows, over a foot-bridge that spans the stream, and up to anold-fashioned elm-shaded house. 

This landmark, known far and wide as the Page place, is historic. Builtin the time of King George, and one of the first three erected inSandgate, it has withstood the storms of two centuries and seen manygenerations of Pages come and go. Additions have been made to it--an ellon one side, larger windows and a wide veranda in front. Inside it ismuch the same, for the open fireplaces remain in parlor and sitting-roomand a tall clock of solemn tick stands in the hall where it stood whenPaul Revere took his famous ride. 

The last owner, Simeon Page, --or, as he was called, Squire Page, --joinedthe great majority two years after an enterprising railroad crept up theSandgate valley. He had bitterly opposed its entrance into the town andit was asserted that chagrin at his defeat hastened his death. Hiswidow, with their two children, Albert and Alice, and a widowed sister, remained and with the aid of hired men managed the farm. But bushesbegan to choke the pastures and meadows; the outbuildings grew shabby;the house received no paint; and as the children grew up and needsincreased, one by one the broad fields were sold. It had been thesquire's ambition that his only son should become a professional man, and carrying out his wishes, Albert's mother had pinched and saved, denying herself all luxuries, and given him a collegiate education. Hehad graduated with honors; read law; been admitted to the bar; and thenreturned to Sandgate and opened an office. Alice, three years hisjunior, had been sent to a boarding-school for two years, where shedevoted most of her time to music, then came home again as mother'shelpmate. 

But the years of self-denial were at an end, for one June day thatmother laid down her burden and was placed beside her husband in thevillage cemetery. Then the two orphans found themselves joint heirs toto an old time-worn house, a few acres of meadow, a couple hundreddollars of debts, and--nothing else. No; that is not right, for theyboth had youth, good health and habits, and good educations. 

Albert, who had rather taken charge of matters since his return toSandgate, kept the debt situation from Alice after his mother's death, feeling she had grief enough to bear without it, but for all that, ittroubled him seriously. The income from his practice was scarcely enoughto clothe him and not likely to increase, for Sandgate had scant use fora lawyer; and what to do, or which way to turn, he knew not. If it werenot for Alice and Aunt Susan he thought it would be easier, but theymust be provided for. Alice, who had been his companion, playmate, andconfidant since the days of short dresses, he especially cared for, andthat feeling was mutual. 

So devoted a brother and sister were they that it had kept them fromforming other associations, and when Albert had been asked why he didnot escort some other young lady to the husking-bees, barn dances, orchurch sociables, his usual reply was: "Alice is good enough for me, andwhen she prefers another beau I may, but not till then. "

With Alice, though many of the village swains wooed, --she wouldn't. EvenJim Mears, stalwart, and with a hand like a foot, fared no better, andwhen Albert rallied her once about young Mears she answered: "Oh, Jim'sall right. He isn't handsome, but then, he is strong, " which delicatesarcasm may be considered a sufficient reflex of her feelings towardothers of the would-be attentive young farmers. 

But for all that, Alice was counted in on every festive gathering. If itwas a barn dance she was always there and never lacked partners, andwhen the jolly party rode home in a big wagon filled with straw it washer voice that always started "The Quilting Party, " or other old-timeballad usually inspired by moonlight. When a strawberry festival was inorder at the church she was given a post of honor, and when Christmasdecorations were necessary every young man felt it a privilege to obeyher orders. At home she was the same winsome little queen, and had nomore devoted subject than her brother. 

For a month after the funeral he worried a good deal. He knew that billshad been left unpaid through his mother's illness, and that the familywere in straitened circumstances. His own law practice so far hadyielded scant returns, and what to do and where to turn was a puzzle. Hewrote to a former classmate whose father was a prominent merchant inBoston, stating his situation and asking advice. It was two weeks ere hereceived a reply, and then, though a cordial letter of sympathy, it didnot go far toward solving the problem. A week later, however, came aletter from a lawyer in that city by the name of Frye, offering him aposition as assistant in his office at a small salary. It was so smallthat Albert thought it a hopeless task to pay home expenses out of itand leave anything towards their debts. It was more than his presentincome, however, and yet to accept the offer and leave Aunt Susan andAlice alone seemed hard. On the other hand, to borrow money on whatlittle of the farm was left did not help matters, for when that wasgone, what then?

Matters came to a climax one day, and ended his indecision. He had beenaway from his office all that afternoon, taking a long stroll in thewoods to escape his loneliness, and returning at tea time, found a cloudon his sister's face. 

"Mr. Hobbs called this afternoon, " she said as they sat down to thetable, "and asked for you. Said he went to your office, and not findingyou in, came here. " And then she added with a quiver in her voice, "Oh, Bertie, we owe him over one hundred dollars!"

The trouble was all out now, and Albert looked gloomy. "I don't thinkany more of him for coming here to dun us, " he answered savagely; "hemight have waited until he saw me. "

"Oh, he was very nice about it, " responded Alice, "and begged my pardonfor speaking of it. He said there was no hurry, only that he had madeout his bill as a matter of form, etc. , and we could pay it whenconvenient. "

Albert made no further comment, but when the meal was ended, said: "Comeout on the porch, sis, and let us talk matters over. " She followed him, feeling there was trouble coming, and drawing her low chair next to his, placed one elbow on his chair arm and covered her face with that hand. For a few moments he remained silent, watching the fireflies beginningtheir evening dance over the meadow and listening to the distant call ofa whippoorwill. Across the valley the village lights were coming insight, one by one, and a faint odor of new-mown hay came to him. Thepathetic little figure at his side unnerved him, however, and he dreadedto say what he must. 

"Well, sis, " he said at last, "I've kept matters from you as long as Ican. We not only owe Hobbs a good deal, but as much more in smallerbills to others, and there is no money to pay them. I've worried aboutthem more than you know, or than I cared to have you. One of two thingsmust be done, either borrow money and pay these bills or I must go awayand earn some. "

Then the little head beside him sunk slowly to his chair, and as hebegan stroking it he added, "I've written to Frank Nason, my old collegechum, and through him have received a fair offer to go to Boston, andhave decided to accept it. I shall leave here as soon as I can getready. "

The trouble was growing serious now, and as he ceased speaking he caughtthe sound of a suppressed sob. "Don't cry, Alice, " he said tenderly, "itcan't be helped. Our home must be broken up sometime and it may as wellbe now as any other. The thing that worries me most is leaving you andAunt Susan here alone. "

Then the sobs increased and the bowed form beside him shook. 

"Oh, Bertie, " she said at last in a choked voice, "don't leave us herealone. Let us sell the old house, pay the bills, and if you must goaway, let us go too. "

"No, dear, that is not best, " he answered softly. "I can't earn enoughat first to do it. You will have to stay here till I can. "

Then the proud spirit that had come to Alice Page from many generationsof self-helpful ancestors spoke and she said as she raised her head andbrushed away the tears: "If you are to leave me here I shall go to workas well. I can teach school, or do something to help you, and I shall, too!"

Her defiant little speech hurt Albert just a bit and yet he felt proudof her for it. "It may be best for you if you could get a chance toteach, " he responded, "and it will help me some, and take up your mind, which is worth a good deal. "

But the worst was to come, and the evening before his departure shenever forgot. There were some consolations to exchange, however, for shehad seen Mr. Mears of the school committee and obtained a position toteach the north district school in Sandgate, --a small by-roadschoolhouse, two miles from her home, --and felt a little pride intelling about it; while he had to report that all whom they owed hadpromised to wait patiently for their dues. 

"Mr. Hobbs even offered to lend me money if I needed it, " he said afterthey had talked matters over, "and so, you see, we have a good manyfriends in Sandgate after all. And now I want you to sing a few of theold songs for me, so that I can have them to think about when I amlonesome and homesick. "

But the singing was a failure, for Alice broke down in the middle of thefirst song and they had to go out and watch the fireflies once more, while she conquered her tears. 

"You will write to me every day, won't you, Bertie?" she askeddisconsolately, as they waited the next morning for the train that wasto separate them. "I shall be so lonesome and blue all the time!"

When he kissed her good-by she could not speak, and the last he saw, asthe train bore him away, was that sweet sister's face, trying bravely tosmile through its tears, like the sun peeping out of a cloud. 

CHAPTER IV

A SPIDER IN HIS DEN

 "Thar's a sucker born every minit, an' two ter ketch him. "--_Uncle Terry. _

There are lawyers and lawyers. Not all are legalized pickpockets, andnot all are imbued with the sole and noble purpose of serving the endsof justice, whether that service lines their pockets or not. Some, and Imay say many of them, contrive to reverse matters and to make justiceserve them, and if the ways of justice do not conspire to that end, somuch the worse for the blind goddess. Modern justice oft-times means thelongest purse and the keenest ability to evade the law, and while anunprincipled lawyer will not exactly throttle the mythological maidenwho holds the scales, he will, if necessary, so befog her every sensewith evasions, subterfuges, and non-pertinent issues that she might justas well have been born deaf and dumb, and without feeling, as well asblind, for all the use she has of those senses. Not only does modern lawservice frequently resolve itself into a contest of unscrupulouscunning, but modern law-making is occasionally shaped to serve the endsof the profession, instead of justice. While the majority of lawyers arenot rascals in name, a good many are at heart, and with the most, whenit comes to the question of justice and a small fee and injustice and abig one, --well, draw your own conclusions, all ye who have been foolsenough to seek recourse at law. 

Lawyers seem to thrive on the passions and vanities of mankind, and manyof them are looking for fools who have money and a grievance. Thetime-worn sarcasm that "After man came woman, and she has been after himever since" would be more to the point if "lawyer" were substituted for"woman. "

But the world is full of fools who thirst for revenge in law, or seemanxious to find some one to dupe them in other ways and always succeed;so Uncle Terry was more than half right when he said, "Thar's a suckerborn every minit, an' two ter ketch him. "

Of all the smooth, elusive vultures lurking in the shadow of the templeof justice, or perching upon it, Nicholas Frye, or "Old Nick, " as manycalled him, was the most cunning. Nor did his looks belie thecomparison, for he had deep-set, shifty, yellow-gray eyes, a hookednose, and his thin locks, dyed jet black, formed a ring about his baldpoll. He walked with a stoop, as if scanning the ground for evidence orclues, and to add to his marked individuality, when he talked he rubbedhis hands together as though washing them with invisible soap. It wasnot from any sense of cleanliness that he did this, for they had manytimes been soiled willingly in the most nefarious transactions. A clientwas to him a victim to be kept in waiting; exasperated in regard to hisgrievances by all possible means; deluded as to his chances of successin quest of justice; deceived as to its cost; and robbed in every wayknown to an astute lawyer. He had been the legal adviser of John Nasonfor many years, and when that busy merchant came to him on behalf of hisson, who wanted to find a position for Albert Page, Frye readilypromised to give him employment. It was not because he needed him, butbecause he saw at once that through some friendship for this young sprigof the law, as he intuitively considered Albert to be, he couldstrengthen his hold upon the father and obtain some secrets that mighteventually be used to rob him. In plain words, he thought to use thisyoung country lawyer as a spy. He knew that John Nason felt a keeninterest in his only son Frank, and that was another reason foremploying that son's friend. He knew also that Frank was given a liberalallowance, spent it rapidly, and most likely would be getting intovarious scrapes needing a lawyer's efforts to rescue him, and so hewould have further pickings in that direction. These were two goodreasons for his ostensible acts of kindness, and so he at once sent forPage to come. 

When, the morning after his arrival in Boston, Albert presented himselfat Frye's office, he found that lawyer busy reading his mail. 

"Take a seat, sir, " said Frye politely, after Albert had introducedhimself, "and excuse me until I go through my letters. " And then, for along half hour, Albert was left to study the bare office walls andpeculiar looks of his future employer. Finally Frye turned to him andasked rather abruptly: "Well, Mr. Page, what do you know about law?" atthe same time scanning him as if expecting to see hayseed adhering tohis garments. 

"Not much, perhaps, " replied Albert modestly, uncertain of his ground. "I have been in practice only a year at Sandgate, and the few peoplethere do not have much use for a lawyer. "

"Then why didn't you stir 'em up a little and bring 'em to see theyneeded your services?" was Frye's next query. "You will never succeed asa lawyer unless you make business. Did you bring your sheepskin withyou?"

"No, sir, " answered Page, "I didn't think it necessary, after what Iwrote you. I have it in my trunk. "

"Well, bring it to-morrow, " said Frye. "I make it a rule to take nothingfor granted and have everything in writing;" and then he added with asearching look, as if he was about to utter a crusher, "What is youridea of a lawyer's chief object in existence?"

Page was a little nonplussed. "Oh, I suppose, " he replied slowly, "tosee that laws are properly executed and justice done. "

Frye looked at him a full minute without making any further comment, while a sardonic grin gradually drew his lips apart, showing a full setof false teeth, and then, as he began rubbing his hands together, hesaid:

"It's evident, young man, you have much to learn in your profession. Laws are made for lawyers, and are the tools of our trade. If the worlddoes not see fit to use those tools, it is our business to make them, and as for justice, that is an allegory, useful in addressing a jury, but considered a fable by the judge. Laws are useful to oppose otherlaws with, and various decisions are only good in so far as they helpyour case and hinder your opponent's. 

"You seem an honest-appearing young man, which is well so far as ourrelations go, but no further. I want an assistant, and one who is readyand willing to do just as I direct and to ask no questions. Do you thinkyou can fill the bill?"

"I can try, " replied Albert quietly, "and as soon as I get used to yourmethods of procedure here I think I can succeed. "

He was a little startled at the peculiar character of his employer, andin a way slightly disgusted, but he was not in a position to cavil orfeel squeamish over apparent lack of honesty, and resolved at once toignore it. 

"What do you wish me to do?" he continued after a moment. "I will do thebest I can for you and am ready to go to work now. "

"You are to be at the office at eight o'clock sharp, " replied Frye, "take one hour for lunch, and remain till six. " Then he added by way ofa spur to his slave's fidelity, "I am paying you seventy-five dollars amonth on the recommend of an important client of mine who wanted tohumor his son. It was your good luck to have this son's friendship, ashe belongs to a wealthy family. He is a spendthrift, of course, but thatis no matter, and all the better for us. Take my advice, and cultivatehim all you can. It may be the means of bringing us more business. WhatI say to you I shall expect you to consider a professional secret and Ihope you will make good use of your time when with this young friend ofyours, and heed well what I have said to you. "

That ended the interview and Albert was set at work copying legaldocuments and at the same time trying to reconcile himself to his newsurroundings. That night he wrote to Alice: "I have hired out to a mostunmitigated old scoundrel, and yet one of the sharpest lawyers I evermet. He assured me I must lay aside my conscience if I mean to succeedand hinted that he might use me later on as a sort of spy upon Frank, Iimagine. He employs a stenographer of uncertain age who comes in andtakes dictation and does her work outside. The only stupid thing he hassaid was to warn me not to flirt with her. "

Then he wrote to his friend Frank, telling him where he was located, thanking him for his assistance, and begging him to call at an earlydate. After that he smoked for an hour in glum silence. His room wassmall and cheerless, and, in comparison with his home quarters, a mereden. But it was a question of saving, and the luxury of space, even, hecould not afford. There is no more lonesome place in the wide world thana great city to one born and bred amid the freedom of the wide fieldsand extended woodlands as Albert had been, and now that he was shut inby brick walls all day, and imprisoned in one small room at night, witha solitary window opening on an area devoted to ash barrels and garbage, it made him homesick. He was a dreamer by nature and loved the music ofrunning brooks, the rustling of winds in the forest, and the song ofbirds. The grand old mountains that surrounded Sandgate had been thedelight of his boyhood, and to fish in the clear streams that tumbleddown through narrow gorges and wound amid wide meadows, or in thelily-dotted mill pond, his pastime. He had the artist's nature in himalso, and loved dearly to sketch a pretty bit of natural scenery, acascade in the brook or a shady grotto in the woods. He loved books, flowers, music, green meadows, shady woods, and fields white withdaisies. He had been reared among kind-hearted, honest, God-fearingpeople who seldom locked their doors at night and who believed in andlived by the Golden Rule. The selfish and distrustful life of a greatcity, with its arrogance and wealth and vanity of display, was not akinto him, and to put himself at the beck and call of a mercenary andutterly unscrupulous old villain, as he believed Frye to be, was galland bitterness. For two weeks he worked patiently, hoping each day thatthe one and only friend the city held for him would call, passing hisevenings, as he wrote Alice, "in reading, smoking, and hating myself alittle, and Frye a good deal. "

He had hesitated to write Frank in the first place, disliking to askfavors, but it could not be helped, and now he began to feel that hisfriend meant to ignore him. This humiliating conclusion was growing to acertainty, and Albert feeling more homesick than ever, when oneafternoon, while he was as usual hard at work in Frye's office, Frankcame in. 

"Pray excuse me, old man, " remarked that youth briskly, after the firstgreetings, "for not calling sooner, but I was off on my yacht about thetime you came, and then I ran down to New York to take in the cup races. You see, I'm so busy I do not get any time to myself. I want you to comeover to the club and lunch with me to-day, and we can talk mattersover. "

"You will kindly excuse me, " replied Albert. "I have a lot of work cutout, and am only allowed one hour for lunch. Can't you come around to myroom to-night and have a smoke-talk?"

"Maybe, " replied Frank, "and we can go around to the club later. Youwill meet some good fellows there, and we always make up a game ofdraw--small limit, you know. Say, old man, " he added interestedly, "howdo you like Frye?"

As that worthy happened to be out just then, the two friends had a goodchance to exchange opinions. Albert's is already known, but, forreasons, he did not care to express it to Frank at this time. 

"Frye is a shrewd lawyer, I presume, " he answered, "and so far I have nofault to find. He takes good care to see I have work enough, but that iswhat I am hired for, and I have been rather lonesome, and glad of it. "

Then to change the subject he added: "I want to thank you once more, Frank, for getting me the place. Things were in a bad way at home, and Ineeded it. "

"You may thank dad, not me, " replied Frank; "I was just going off on atrip when your letter came, and I turned the matter over to him. Frye'shis attorney, you see. "

"Are you personally well acquainted with Mr. Frye?" asked Albert, havingan object in mind. 

"No, not at all, except by sight, " was the answer. "I believe he isconsidered a very sharp lawyer, and almost invariably wins his cases. Dad says he has won out many times when the law was all against him, andis not over-scrupulous how he does it. They say he is rich, and askinflint. He always reminds me of a hungry buzzard. "

Albert thought of Burns' apt cynicism just then, and wished that Fryemight for one moment see himself as others saw him. He felt tempted totell Frank just what Frye had said, and what his opinion of him was, butwisely kept it to himself. Had he been a woman, it is doubtful if hewould have shown so much discretion, and not every man would. 

"Well, I must be going, " said Frank, at last. "I've got a date for themat. , this aft. , so ta-ta. I'll call round some eve. , at your room, andtake you up to the club. "

When his friend had departed, Albert resumed his rather monotonouscopying the gist of a lot of decisions bearing upon a case that Frye hadpending just then, and when he went out to lunch, it was, as usual, alone, and to a cheap restaurant. 

"It's nice to have a rich father, a yacht, plenty of money and nothingto do but spend it, " he said to himself ruefully that night, as he satin his cheerless room smoking and dwelling upon the picture of a gaylife as disclosed by his friend. "But we are not all born to fortune, and perhaps, after all, I might be worse off, "--which, to say the least, is the best way to look at it. 

CHAPTER V

WAYS THAT ARE DARK

With "Old Nick" Frye the eleventh commandment, "Thou shalt not getcaught, " outweighed all the rest. It was not because he especiallyneeded the assistance of Page that he had hired him, although he couldserve him in a way; but it was that he could use him as a means to anend in a totally different capacity from copying law reports. JohnNason, one of his principal clients, was a wealthy and successfulmerchant, and both proud and fond of his only son. Frye had heardvarious stories of the elder Nason, connecting his name with certaingood-looking girls that had been or were in his employ, and thatvulture, with a keen scent for evil, was only too ready to takeadvantage of anything, no matter what, so long as it would aid him inhis efforts to make the most out of his client. He knew also that Frankwas, as the saying goes, "cutting a wide swath. " To use the son's friendas a means to reach the son, and through him possibly the father, wasconsidered by Frye a wise stroke of policy. 

When, a few days after Frank had called upon Page, the latter chanced tomention it to Frye, he made a note of it at once. 

"I am glad, " he said cordially, "that your friend has hunted you up. Iknew he was away on his yacht when you came, and was going to suggestthat you call on him as soon as I knew he was at home. As I told you, cultivate him all you can. He will serve as a door to get you into goodsociety. When did he call?"

"It was one day while you were out, " answered Page, "and he invited meto lunch with him at his club. "

"Which of course you did?" said Frye. 

"No, sir; I knew I shouldn't have time for it during my one hour, andthen, you had given me a lot of work to do that day. "

A shade of annoyance came over Frye's face. 

"Well, that's all right, of course, " he said, "but when he calls againtake all the time you need if he asks you out, and, " with a scrutinizinglook at Page, "as I said, cultivate him. It's business. His father is mymost valued client, and the more intimate you become with his son thesooner you will have an acquaintance that will be of value to you. "

Page could not quite fathom all this, but the more he thought of whatFrye had said the more certain he became that kindly regard for his ownwelfare did not enter into that shrewd schemer's calculations. He wasmore and more disgusted, also, each day, with his employer's cynicalindifference to all sense of honor and honesty, coming to the conclusionthat he was no better than a thief at heart. 

Beneath Albert's disposition to adapt himself to those he mingled withlay a vein of sterling good sense, fine honor, and the energy ofself-sacrifice, if necessary, and Frye's attributes were so obnoxious tohim as to be simply repulsive. At college he had never indulged in much"larking, " and just why the bond of friendship between himself and thegood-natured, self-indulgent, happy-go-lucky classmate, Frank Nason, hadbeen cemented is hard to explain, except upon the theory of theattraction of opposites. When, a few days later, that young man appearedat the office just before closing time, and suggested they "go out for anight's racket, " as he phrased it, Albert was not inclined to accept. 

"What are you up to?" he said as they walked away from the office, "andwhat do you mean by a racket? If it's likely to be expensive, count meout; I can't afford it. "

"Well, " answered Frank lightly, "you are working too hard, and needshaking up, so I thought I'd drop round and do it. We will dine at theclub, then go to the Castle Square, where there is a burlesque on and noend of pretty chorus girls. I know two or three of them, and after theshow we will take them out to supper; that is all. "

"It's all right except the end-up, " answered Albert, "and on that Ithink you had best skip me. As I said, it's a diversion I can't afford. I've no money to spare to buy wine for ballet girls. "

"Oh, that's all right, " responded Frank cheerfully. "I've asked you outand it's my treat. I'll pay the shot this time. "

"I shall pay my share if I go, " asserted Albert firmly, "but I wouldrather omit the after part. We will have the evening together and thenyou can go and entertain your chorus girls and I'll go to my room. "

It was a laudable resolution, but it came hard, for beneath all Albert'sgood resolves was lurking desire for a little excitement to break thedull monotony of his life. He had been to the theatre only twice sincehe came to Boston, desiring to save in every way he could, and only theweek before had sent Alice one-third of his first month's salary. At theclub Frank introduced him to several of his friends and of course theywere asked to join them in a social glass, which did not tend tostrengthen Albert's resolution. At the theatre the exhilarating music, and the glitter of a stage full of pretty girls in scant drapery, allhad their usual effect, and by the time the show was over he found itnext to impossible to resist his friend's urging that they go around tothe stage door and meet the girls he had invited to sup with them. 

"Mind you, let me pay my share, " whispered Page, and then he foundhimself being introduced by his first name to two highly colored queensof the ballet, and all four proceeded at once to a private supper-room. Albert found the girls bright, vivacious, and expressive, so far as asuperficial use of slang goes: they ordered the choicest andhighest-priced items on the bill of fare; called for champagne and drankit freely; addressed their escorts as "Cully, " "Old Sport, " and "OldStocking;" smoked cigarettes; and talked about their "mashes" in othercities in a way that made Albert grateful that he had been introduced byhis first name only. 

It was not an immoral proceeding, though not exactly proper, and when inthe wee small hours they--with a mistaken sense of gallantry--escortedthe two actresses (if such they may be termed) to their boarding-place, Page, at least, was glad to be well rid of them. And when he reached hisroom, it must be said to his credit, he did not feel particularly proudof himself. 

He felt less so the next morning when he received a letter from Alicewhich said:

 MY DARLING BROTHER: I was so pleased when I received your loving letter and the money you sent. You do not know how it hurts me to feel we owe so much, and I have cried over it more than you will ever know. Last week I received my first month's pay, --thirty dollars, --and I was very proud of it, for it is the first money I ever earned. I took half and put it with the twenty-five you sent and gave it to Mr. Hobbs. I have only six dollars left, for I had to buy some boots and gloves, but that will last me a month, for I've not the heart to spend a penny I am not obliged to, until the debts are paid. I had to buy the boots, because walking four miles a day wears them out very fast. 

And he had spent twenty dollars the night before to have a couple ofballet girls talk slang, smoke cigarettes, and call him "Cully"!

When he thought of his sweet and loving sister, with her perfect faithin his manhood, walking four miles a day to earn less than two dollars, while he had been induced to spend in one foolish evening as much as shecould earn in two weeks, it was no wonder he did not feel proud ofhimself. 

CHAPTER VI

A PUSH DOWNWARD

 "He digged a pit, he digged it deep, He digged it for a brother; But oh, alas! he fell into The pit he digged for another. "

 _Old Saw. _

Page was a little late at the office the next morning and Frye was thereahead of him. 

"I was out with young Nason last evening, " he explained, as the oldlawyer bade him a rather crusty good morning, "and I overslept. "

"Oh, that is all right, " responded Frye, in an instantaneously sweetenedtone, "I am glad you were, and, as I told you, you are wise to cultivatehim. I suppose, " he continued with a leer, "that you were buying winefor some of the gay girls?"

Page looked confused. "Well, we went to the theatre, and after that hada late supper, " he explained, "and it was after one before I returned tomy room. "

"I don't care how late you are out, or what you did, " said Frye, stilleyeing Page, "so long as you were with young Nason and kept out of thelockup. His father pays me a salary to look after his law business, andhis son is the pride of his heart. I trust you understand my meaning. Ifyou don't feel like work this morning, " he continued suavely, "mountyour wheel and take a run out to Winchester and see if that mortgage onthe Seaver estate has been satisfied. The exercise and air will do yougood. "

Page was nonplussed. 

"He has some deep-laid plot in his mind, " he thought as he looked atFrye, who, having delivered this amazing pat, turned at once to hismail. It was all the more amazing because at the start he had beenassured that punctuality and good conduct on his part were obligatory. Now he was to all intents and purposes not only told he might lark itwith young Nason all he chose, but even urged to do so. He was glad toescape the office, however, for his head felt full of bees, and thankinghis employer for the permission, he quickly left the city behind him. The crisp October air and exercise soon cured his headache, and in ameasure drove away some of the self-reproaches at his own foolishconduct of the night before. 

The errand at Winchester was attended to, and then, after taking a glassof bromo-seltzer, he headed back for the city, taking another course. Bythe time he reached town he was faint from hunger, for he had eaten nobreakfast. A good dinner restored him to his natural self-possession, and then he went to the office. 

For a week he reproached himself every time he thought how much hisescapade had cost, and felt too ashamed to answer Alice's letter. Whenhe did he assured that innocent sister that he was saving all he couldand should send more money as soon as possible. Frank called twice, andthe second time urged him to join the club, to which Page assented. 

"It will serve as a place to spend a lonesome evening, " he thought. Itwas a wise step, for it is during lonesome hours, if ever, that one'ssteps are turned toward evil associations. 

Several times Frye had made casual inquiries as to the progress of hisintimacy with young Nason, all of which led Page to wonder what hisobject was and why it concerned him. At last, one day just at closingtime, and after he had told the office boy he might go, Frye let alittle light into that enigma. 

"Sit down a moment, Mr. Page, " he remarked, as the latter was preparingto leave; "I have a proposition of an important nature to make to you, "and then as he fixed his merciless eyes on his clerk and began to slowlyrub his hands together, he continued: "You have been nearly three monthsin my employ, Mr. Page, and have fulfilled your duties satisfactorily. Ithink the time has come when I may safely enlarge them a little. As Itold you, John Nason pays me a yearly retainer to attend to all his lawbusiness. I have reason to feel he is not entirely satisfied to continuethat arrangement, and I am forced to find some way to bring a littlepressure to bear on him in order that he may see it is for his interestto still retain me. Now I believe John Nason is not entirely happy inhis home relations and is leading a double life, and that a certain MissMaud Vernon, a cashier in his store, receives a share of his attentions. She and a supposed aunt of hers occupy a flat in a block owned by Nason, and while they are never seen in public together, gossip links theirnames. What I want is for you to find out, through your acquaintancewith the Nasons, just what bond there is between the elder Nason andthis Miss Vernon, and report to me. I do not intend to use the knowledgefor any illegal purpose, but merely as a leverage to retain Nason'sbusiness. I am aware that to prosecute your inquiries discreetly bymeans of your intimacy with young Nason will require more money than Iam paying you, and therefore, if I can depend on you to do a littledetective work, I shall from now on increase your salary fromseventy-five to one hundred and seventy-five dollars. What do you say?"

The first impulse that Page felt was to absolutely refuse, there andthen, to have anything to do with Frye's nefarious scheme, but thethought of his situation, the unpaid debt at home, and the certaintythat a refusal would mean a loss of his position conquered his pride andkept him silent. For a moment he reflected, trying hard to see a way outof the dilemma; and then said:

"It is rather a hard task you ask, Mr. Frye, for I am not accustomed tothe role of detective, but I am in your employ, and as long as I am Iwill do the best I can for your interests. "

It was a temporizing reply, and Frye so construed it at once. 

"I must insist, if you accept my offer, " he said, "that you give me yourpromise to do your best to earn the money. It doesn't pay to be toosqueamish in this world, " he continued, in a soothing tone; "allbusiness is to a certain extent a game of extortion--a question of dothe other fellow or he will do you. " Then arising, and holding out askinny hand to grasp Page's, as if to bind the bargain, he added: "Ishall expect you to keep faith with me, Mr. Page, " and the interviewended. 

When Albert entered the dining-room at his boarding-place that night hefelt as if his face must show guilt, and when later he met Frank at theclub that feeling increased. He was preoccupied and morose, and Frank, noticing his frame of mind, tried to cheer him. 

"You look as if you had been given a facer, old man, " he said. "What isthe matter? Has Frye been calling you down for something?"

Page looked at his friend a moment, and the impulse to make a cleanbreast of it, and relieve his feelings, was strong, but he did not. 

"I do not like Frye, " he said instead, "and the more I see of him theless I like him. At times he makes me feel as if he was a snake ready touncoil and strike. Did you ever notice his eyes, and the way he has ofrubbing his hands when talking?"

"I have, " was the answer, "and he has the most hideous eyes I ever sawin a human being. They look like a cat's in the dark. Dad told me oncehe saw Frye look at a witness he was cross-examining in such a way thatthe poor fellow forgot what his name was, and swore black was white. Those eyes are vicious weapons, they say, and he uses them to theutmost when he wants to scare a witness. "

"They make me feel creepy every time I look at them, " said Albert, andthen, as if anxious to change the subject, he added, "Let's leave here, Frank, and you come with me to my room, where we can have a quiet talktogether. I am in the dumps to-night, and want to unbosom my troubles toyou. "

CHAPTER VII

A SERMON

"What ails you, old man?" asked Frank, after they were seated inAlbert's room and were smoking fraternal pipes; "you look as if you hadlost your best friend. "

"I did, last June, as you know, " was the rather sad answer, "and on topof that, I hate myself for one or two things; for instance, the escapadewe indulged in the other night, and being Frye's slave, for another. "

"I am sorry for the first, " responded Frank; "it was my fault that youwere coaxed into it. I won't do it again, I assure you. Don't worry overit, my boy. It wasn't anything serious; only just a little after-theatrefun, and hearing those sporty girls talk slang. "

"Yes, and spending a lot of money for very poor fun, " replied Albert. "Idon't think any better of myself for doing it, do you?"

"Oh, I don't think about it one way or the other, " answered Frank, "Ihave so much time to kill, and that's no worse than any other way. Wego to the theatre and see those same girls half nude and hear them sayjust as naughty things as they said to us that night, so what's theharm? We are a little nearer to them, that is all, and pay extra for theprivilege. "

"Well, of course it's all right, and as you do not think any the less ofyourself for doing it, there is no harm, " replied Albert, "only I do;and so it is worse for me than for you. " Then he added, lookingcuriously at his friend, "Tell me honestly, Frank, did you enjoy havingcigarette smoke puffed in your face, being called 'Cully, ' and hearingsilly brag about 'mashes, ' and how they 'worked' some other fellow? Didit occur to you that those same rouge-finished queens of the balletwould describe us, and how they 'worked' us for a wine supper, to otherjays, and that no doubt they have done so to one or a dozen since thatnight? They were pert and saucy, it is true, and up to date so far asslang goes, but did you really enjoy their society?"

"No, I can't say I did, " was the sober answer, "only there was a spiceof excitement about it, a sort of novelty. I would not want it everynight, however. "

"And while I am about it, " continued Albert, warming up, "did you noticethat those same fairies of the footlights had been so busy putting redpaint on their lips and black lead on their eyelashes that they forgotto use a toothbrush, and left their fingernails in mourning? And what ismore to the point, was there one word they uttered that you and I couldnot have fore-stalled long before it fell from their lips? Now you havea mother and sisters who think well of you, no doubt: how would you havefelt to have had any one of them peep in that night and see what mannerof company you were in? My mother is in her grave, but maybe she couldsee where I was and with whom I was that evening, and the thought makesme feel mean. I have a sister, one of the purest and sweetest littlewomen God ever blessed the earth with, and not for all that I can earnin one year would I have her know what a foolish thing I did. For twodays I was so ashamed of myself I felt miserably. "

Frank sat in stupefied silence at his friend's outburst. "If I hadimagined you were going to feel that way, old man, " he said at last, "Iwould never have urged you to go with me. I never will again, I assureyou. "

"Oh, I am as much to blame as you, " observed Albert. "I went willingly, but after it was all over I was sorry I did. I am no prude, I enjoy alittle excitement and don't mind a social evening with a few friends, but it doesn't pay to do things you despise yourself for the next day. "

"But, " put in his friend with a quizzical look, "do you know you arepreaching a sermon, and I rather enjoy it, too? It sets me thinking. Asfor such girls as we wined, I don't care a rap for them. If I could findany other and better amusement, they might go hang for all I care. Whatyou say of them is true enough, and I agree with you they are aprofitless lot of trash, but what is a fellow going to do to kill time?I try tennis and golf with fellows and girls in our set, but that istame sport. I go to 'functions' once in a while, and if I dance twicewith a pretty girl who has no _dot_, mother glares at me, and says I'veno family pride. Most of the girls talk silly nonsense that wearies afellow, and the more _passé_ they are the worse they gush. The onlything I really enjoy that is respectable is yachting, and then I havetrouble to find good fellows who have time to go with me. Once in awhile I get disgusted with myself, and wish I had to work for a living. "

Albert looked surprised. Was it possible that this young and handsomefellow, with dark brown honest eyes, curly black hair, and garb andmanner of refinement, who never had known what it was to work, reallywanted to earn his own way in the world, just from sheer _ennui_?

"Frank, " he said at last, "you ought to be ashamed to talk so. You haveplenty of money, nothing to do but enjoy yourself, and yet you complain!You ought to have a few months of old Frye. It would reconcile you toyour lot. "

Frank looked sympathetic. "Is he so bad as that?" he said. 

"No worse than any other old skinflint who feels he owns you, body andbrains, " replied Albert, "but I do not want to talk about him to-night. I've got the blues. "

"I am sorry, old man, " rejoined Frank in a low tone, "I wish I couldhelp you. Maybe I can in the near future. "

Albert was silent, while the comparison of his lot with that of hisfriend passed slowly in review. 

"It seems to me you have everything to be thankful for, Frank, " he saidat last in a dejected tone, --"a kind father, good home, plenty offriends, a nice yacht, all the money you want, and nothing to do. Withme it is different. Would it bore you if I unloaded a little of myhistory? I feel like it to-night. "

"Not a bit, " answered Frank, "I would really like to hear it. I didn'tknow much of your home affairs at college, and since you came to BostonI hated to ask you, for fear you would think me impertinent. "

"Well, " continued Albert, "when we were at college I was a little tooproud to let you know I was the only son of a poor widow who was denyingherself every luxury to educate me; but it was a fact. After weseparated, I tutored some, read law, and was admitted to the bar. Iopened an office in my native town and wasted a year waiting forclients, while I read novels, sketched, and fished, to pass the time. Last June my mother died and left my sister and me an old house that hasbeen in the family over a century, a few acres of meadow lands, andmaybe two hundred dollars in debts. Then I wrote to you. I was more thangrateful for the chance you obtained for me to work for even such a manas Frye. I am paying those debts as fast as I can, and my sister ishelping by teaching in a cross-road schoolhouse and walking four mileseach day to do it. "

"And I coaxed you to go out and spend money on a couple of balletgirls!" responded Frank regretfully. "Say, old man, " reaching out hishand and clasping Albert's, "if I had known all this that evening Iwould have bit my tongue before I asked you to go with me. "

"That is all right, " replied Albert; "I should have told you that nightwhat I have told you now, but maybe I was a little ashamed to do so. "

"I would like to see that brave sister of yours, " said Frank after apause. "From what you tell me, she must be a trump. "

Albert made no answer, but going to the mantel he took a framedphotograph that stood there and handed it to his friend. It was apicture of a young girl with a face like an artist's dream and eyes liketwo pansies. 

Frank gazed at it long and earnestly. "Your sister, I suppose, " he saidat last, still looking at the face. "I do not wonder you preached me thesermon you have this evening. You must be proud of her. "

When it came time for him to go the two shook hands with a warmer claspthan ever, and when he was gone the little room did not seem quite socheerless to its occupant as before. 

Albert Page had builded wiser than he knew. 

CHAPTER VIII

A HELPING HAND

"I should like to be excused to-morrow forenoon, Mr. Frye, " said Alberta few days later. "Frank has promised to introduce me to his father. "

"Certainly, " replied Frye, cheerfully, "take the entire day, if youwish, and if you have a good chance try to make the acquaintance of MissMaud Vernon, a cashier in Mr. Nason's store, or at least take a goodlook at her. She is the key that will unlock the information I need, andI shall depend upon you to obtain it. "

"I will keep my eyes open, " replied Albert aloud, mentally resolvingthat it would not be in the interest of Frye and his sinister plot. Thenext day he met Frank by appointment, and the two called upon John Nasonat his office. Albert was greeted cordially, and, after an exchange ofcommonplaces, soon found himself being interrogated by a series ofquestions pertaining to his home and college life, his knowledge of law, and how he liked his present employer, all of which with their answers, not being pertinent to the thread of this narrative, need not be quoted. They were for a purpose, however, as all of John Nason's businessquestions were, and at their conclusion he said:

"I am glad to have met you, Mr. Page. My son has spoken in the highestterms of you, and what has interested me more, Mr. Frye has also. Hedoes not usually bestow much praise on any one, but is more apt tosneer. After you are a little better acquainted with legal proceedingshere, come and see me. I may be able to do something for you. Youmight, " addressing Frank, as if to end the interview, "show Mr. Pageover the store now; it may interest him. "

After an hour spent walking through the vast human hive, where over onethousand clerks and salesgirls were employed, the two friends returnedto their club for lunch. 

"Well, what do you think of the old gent?" asked Frank, as he sat down. 

"I like him, " was the answer; "he talks to the purpose, though, and Ifancy his rapid-fire questions were for an object. "

"You may be sure they were, " replied Frank, "and, what is more, I saw byhis expression that you had made a good impression. Do you know what Idid the other day? I told him all about our escapade with the twofairies, and repeated all I could recall of the sermon you preachedabout it. "

Albert looked astonished. 

"I am sorry you did that, " he said; "he must have thought me very weaknot to have refused in the first place. What did he say?"

"Oh, not much, " replied Frank; "he laughed, and said he guessed thecloser I stuck to you, the better I would behave myself. "

"Do you make a practice of confessing all your larks to your father?"observed Albert. 

"Oh, I don't conceal much, " answered Frank laughingly; "he and I are thebest of friends, and he is so good to me I haven't the heart to deceivehim. I had an object in telling him of our racket, however;" and thenafter a pause, "I wish you were to be at liberty this afternoon, Bert; Iam going to take the 'Gypsy' round to Beverly to her winter quarters andI'd like your company. "

"Well, I can go if I've a mind to, " answered Albert; "Frye said I mighttake a day off if I wished. "

Frank looked astonished. "Isn't he in danger of heart-failure?" he said;"the old buzzard must be getting stuck on you, I should say. "

When the two had boarded the yacht, and while the engineer was gettingup steam, Frank showed his guest all over that craft. 

"I am surprised at the size of your boat, " said Albert; "why, she islarge enough for an ocean voyage. "

"We may take one in her some day, " replied Frank; "stranger things havehappened. I believe she cost over eighty thousand dollars, but dadbought her for less than half that at an assignee's sale. "

When steam was up they took a run out around Minot's Light and across toCape Ann, and as the day was a delightful one, Albert enjoyed itimmensely. 

"I can't imagine a more charming way of spending a summer than to havesuch a craft as this and a well-chosen party of friends for company, andgo where you like. Why, it would seem like a dream of life in anenchanted world to me. "

It was late in the afternoon when they ran in past Baker's Island, andat Beverly they went ashore, and leaving the crew to moor the yacht inthe stream between the two bridges, returned to Boston. 

It was almost Thanksgiving time ere Albert saw Mr. Nason again, and thenone day Frank said to him: "I want you to call on dad to-morrow. Hewants to see you. "

It came as a most agreeable surprise to Albert, and yet, as he enteredthat magnate's palatial store the next day, he did not dare to allowhimself to hope that it would mean anything to him. He took the elevatorto the fourth floor, where Mr. Nason's private office was, and withbeating heart entered. His greeting was more cordial than before, andMr. Nason, who, it may be observed, was a man that went about businessas a woodcutter chops a tree, said:

"Are you under contract or obligation to remain with Mr. Frye anyspecified time, Mr. Page?"

"Nothing more than to give him a reasonable notice that I wish to quit, "replied Albert; "I am paid so much a month 'for the present, ' as he putit when I went there, and I certainly shall leave him as soon as I seeany chance of bettering myself. "

"That being the case, I see no reason why you cannot entertain theproposition I have decided to make you, " said the merchant, "which isthat you sever your relations with Mr. Frye between now and the first ofthe year, and then take hold and see what you can do in looking after mylegal matters. The fact is, Mr. Page, as I intimated to you a short timeago, I am not entirely satisfied with Mr. Frye. Just why need not beconsidered now. The only point is, do you feel yourself capable ofacting as my attorney and assuming charge of any law business that mayarise?"

"Well, so far as my knowledge of the law goes, " replied Albert, "Ipassed a good examination when I was admitted to the bar, I had somepractice in Sandgate, and since I've been with Frye I've learned a gooddeal of the usual procedure here. I think I can do all that isnecessary. "

"My needs in a legal line are not complicated, " continued Mr. Nason; "itis mostly looking up deeds and making transfers, seeing that titles areclear, etc. You will have to watch the custom officers, and there aremore or less collections to be made. Occasionally I have to resort tothe courts, but try to avoid them as much as possible. "

"I think I could attend to all such matters to your satisfaction, " saidAlbert confidently; "they are not hard tasks. "

"Very well, " replied Mr. Nason. "I have decided, partly at the requestof my son and partly from my own estimate of your ability, to give youthe trial. I will pay you twenty-five hundred dollars per annum to lookafter my needs, and you are also at liberty to take such other businessas comes to you so long as you do not neglect mine. "

"I thank you, Mr. Nason, for this offer, " replied Albert, rising andproffering his hand, "and I accept gladly and will devote all my time, if need be, to your service. "

"Very good, " responded Mr. Nason; "separate yourself from Frye at once, or between now and the new year, and in the meantime I would suggestthat you rent a suitable office. There are one or two vacant in abuilding I own on Water street that will serve very well, and when youare through with Mr. Frye, come and see me. I shall consider you in myemploy from now on, and as you may need funds in fitting up your office, I will advance you a little on your salary, " and without further commenthe turned to his desk and wrote and handed Albert a check for fivehundred dollars. "I should prefer, " he added hastily, as if to preventany word of thanks, "that you make no mention whatever of our agreementto Mr. Frye, or in fact to any one, until after January first. " Thenrising and offering his hand to Albert as if to dismiss him, he added:

"Come out to my house any evening, Mr. Page; we shall be glad to seeyou, and I am usually at home. "

There are moments when our emotions nullify all attempts at speech, andto Albert Page, who before had felt himself alone and almost friendlessin a great city, this was such a one. 

"Never mind the thanks now, " said Mr. Nason, as he saw Albert'sagitation; "put your thanks into your work, and in a year we will talkit over. "

"And this is the man I had almost hired myself out to spy upon!" saidAlbert to himself as he left the store. 

CHAPTER IX

SHARP PRACTICE

For a few days after his interview with John Nason Albert tried to findsome plausible excuse for leaving Frye. He did not want to make an enemyof him, and more especially now that he was to succeed him as JohnNason's legal adviser. He knew that Frye would know he could not easilybetter himself, and would reason that, unknown and without money in agreat city as he was, it would be some unusual opening that would makehim turn away from what Frye considered a large salary. Then again, hehad promised Mr. Nason not to disclose their agreement to Frye, and morethan that, he felt in honor bound not to let Frye even suspect it. Itwas while perplexed with the situation and trying to solve it that itsolved itself in an unexpected way. 

Frye was out that day, and Albert was, as he had been for three days, thinking how to escape, when a red-faced and rather bellicose sort of aman came in and inquired for Frye. 

"My name is Staples, " he said, "and I've got a lawsuit on my hands. I'velaid the facts before your partner, I s'pose, but I thought I'd justdrop in and give him a few pointers that might help my case. "

"What is your case?" asked Albert, a little amused at being taken forFrye's partner. 

"Wal, the facts are, " replied Staples, "I've had to sue a miserablewhelp in self-defence. I live in Lynnfield. It's a small place about tenmiles out, and last spring I bought the good will, stock in trade, an'all of a man by the name of Hunt, who was in the meat business. Hesigned a paper, too, agreein' not to engage in the business in or withinten miles o' Lynnfield for a period o' five years, and a month ago heopened a shop almost 'cross the street from me and is cuttin' my pricesright and left, confound him. "

"And you are bringing an action for breach of contract?" interposedAlbert, thinking to have a little fun at the expense of his caller. 

"I'm a-suin' him for ten thousand dollars' damage, if that's what youmean, " replied the belligerent Staples. "I won't get it all, but then, as your partner said, we may get more than if we sued for less. Law's abig game of bluff, I reckon. "

Albert smiled. "And so you are basing your suit on this signedagreement, are you?" he said; "well, you might as well stop just now, for you have no case in law, though no doubt a good one in justice. "

"But the agreement is all signed and witnessed, " exclaimed Staples, "andMr. Frye said I had good reason to bring suit, and I've paid him twohundred dollars on account to do it. "

"That may be, " said Albert, realizing he had put his foot in it, so tospeak, "and perhaps you have other grounds to base a suit for damageson, but as for the agreement this man Hunt signed, it's of no valuewhatever. "

"Then why in thunder did Frye tell me I had a good case, and take mymoney?" gasped the irate Staples. 

"That I can't say, " replied Albert, foreseeing the rumpus he hadstarted, "you'd better come to-morrow and have a talk with him. He mayhave seen some loophole for you to win out through that I do not see, but so far as your agreement goes, it's not worth the paper it's writtenon. "

When the law-thirsty Staples had departed it dawned upon Albert that hehad unintentionally paved the way for his own escape from Frye. "I'llstay away to-morrow, " he said to himself, "and let Staples get in hiswork, and then face the inevitable storm that I have started. " He hadsurmised the results accurately, for when, two days later, he purposelyreached the office late, Frye did not even bid him good morning. 

"Where were you yesterday?" he said curtly, as Albert entered. 

"I was availing myself of your express wish that I cultivate youngNason, " was the answer. "We went to Beverly to see to the housing-in ofhis yacht for the winter. "

"And what did you say to Mr. Staples the day before, I would like toknow?" continued Frye in a sneering tone. "He has retained me for anaction for breach of contract, and you have told him he had no groundsfor suit. He came in yesterday, mad as a wet hen, and wanted his moneyback. Are you a fool?"

"Maybe I am, " replied Albert, trying hard to keep cool, "but I do notcare to be told of it. Mr. Staples explained his case to me, and Iinadvertently told him that the agreement he held was of no value inlaw, which is the truth. "

"And what has that to do with it?" said Frye, with biting sarcasm. "Ididn't hire you to tell the truth and lose me a paying client. If thatis your idea of law practice you had better go back to Sandgate and hoecorn for a living. I knew very well his agreement was of no value, butthat was a matter for him to find out, not for us to tell him. You havemade a mess of it now, and lost me several hundred dollars in fees. "

Albert had remained standing through all this tirade, and lookingsquarely at his irate employer. 

"You need not say any more, " he put in, when Frye had paused for breath;"if you will further oblige me with a check for the small balance dueme, I will not again upset your plans. You need not, " he added, feelinghimself blush, "consider that you owe me any part of the increase yourecently promised. I do not want it. "

It was Frye's turn to be astonished now. That this verdant limb of thelaw, as he considered Albert to be, could have the manliness to show anyresentment at his scourging, and what was more surprising, coolly resigna good position, he could not understand. For a few minutes the twolooked at each other, and then Frye, for reasons of his own, weakenedfirst. 

"You are foolish, " he said, in a modified tone, "to act so hastily. Perhaps I have spoken rather rudely, but you must admit you gave meprovocation. Do not throw away a good chance for a few hasty words. "

"I do not care to discuss it, " answered Albert firmly; "the role ofprivate detective that you want me to assume is not to my taste, anyway, and your words have convinced me we can never get along together. Iwill not remain longer on any terms. "

"And what will you do now?" sneered Frye, a sinister look entering hisyellow eyes, "steal or starve?"

"Neither, " replied Albert defiantly; "I'll go back to Sandgate and hoecorn first. "

Then, as a realizing sense of how much he was in the power of thiscourageous stripling came to Frye, his arrogance all melted, and as heturned and began to play with a paper-cutter he said meekly:

"Come, Mr. Page, overlook it all. I spoke too hastily, and I apologize. "

It was the guilty coward conquering the brute instinct, but it availednot. 

"Will you oblige me with the small balance due me to-day, " asked Albert, "or shall I call again for it?"

"And if we part company now, " muttered Frye, "what am I to expect? Areyou to be a friend or an enemy?"

"If you refer to your scheme to blackmail John Nason, " replied Albertresolutely, and not mincing words, "I am too ashamed to think I everlistened to your proposals to even speak of it. "

It was a hard blow and made Frye wince, for it was the first time he hadever been openly called a villain, but, craven hypocrite that he was, he made no protest. Instead, he silently wrote a check for Albert's dueand handed it to him. 

"I am much obliged, Mr. Frye. Good morning, sir, " said Albert in achilly tone, and putting on his hat, he left the office. 

When the door was closed behind him he turned, shook his fist at it, andmuttered: "You miserable old villainous vulture! I am glad I saved onevictim from being robbed by you!"

But Albert cooled off in time. We always do. 

That night when he met Frank at the club he grasped one of that youngman's hands in both of his and as he shook it, exclaimed:

"If you were Alice now, I would hug and kiss you!"

"Well, " responded Frank, "if you were Alice now, all I can say is, itwould meet my entire approbation; but tell me what ails you? Have youhad a fortune left you?"

"Yes and no, " replied Albert; "your father has given me the chance of alifetime and I am free from old Frye. I have you to thank for thechance, I am sure. "

"Well, I put in a good word for you when I had the opportunity, " saidFrank modestly, "and the sermon you preached me once, and which Ireported to dad, may have had some weight with him. "

In a week Albert had his office fitted up, and then he presented himselfto John Nason, and after that he not only had all the responsibilitythrust upon him that he was able to assume, but he no longer felthimself in the position of a menial. To one of his proud spirit it meantself-respect, life, and sunshine. 

CHAPTER X

AMID THE GREEN MOUNTAINS

There are two characteristics sure to be found among the residents of asmall country village, and those are kindness of heart and a love ofgossip. The former showed itself in Sandgate when Albert Page went tothose his family were indebted to, and, with much humiliation tohimself, asked them to wait. Mr. Hobbs' reply is all that is necessaryto quote, as it was a reflex of all the others. 

"Don't ye worry one whit, Mr. Page, " he said; "take your own time, an'if it's a year it's no matter. The only reason I called with the billwas because it's customary when an estate is bein' settled. Tell yourfolks I expect and want 'em to keep right on tradin' with me. "

When Alice appealed to Mr. Mears she also met only the kindest of words. 

"Ye can drive back an' forth, an' not be away from home over night, "said he, "till snow comes, an' then I'll git ye a boardin'-place clus bythe schoolhouse and fetch and carry ye Mondays and Fridays. "

The love of gossip showed itself as distinctly in a general discussionby the townsfolk of the affairs of the Pages. For a month after Alberthad gone away and Alice had begun teaching, they were the subject ofmuch after-church and sewing-circle talk. 

"If Alice could only git married now, " observed Mrs. Mears, who wasperhaps the leader among the gossips in Sandgate, "it 'ud be the mostfortunit thing that could happen, but she holds her head perty middlin'high for a poor girl, which p'raps is nat'ral, she comin' from one o'the oldest families. They say there wa'n't nothin' left to either on 'emwhen the Widder Page died, an' the wonder is how she managed to gitalong as well as she did. "

Fortunately none of this gossip, of which Mrs. Mears' remarks are only asample, reached Alice, for she had enough to bear as it was. Thevexations of an effort to pound the rudiments of an education into theheads of two dozen or so barefooted boys and girls that comprised hercharge were far less hard to bear than the desolation of a home bereftof mother and brother. Occasionally some one of the neighbors would dropin of an evening, or one or two of her girl friends come and stay allnight. On Sundays she was, as she always had been, a regular attendantat the village church, where she formed one of the choir. She had neverencouraged the attentions of any of the young men, who mostly wore thehabiliments of farmers on week days and worse-fitting ones on Sundays, which accounted for Mrs. Mears' remark that "she held her head pertymiddlin' high. " It was true in a way, not from any false pride, butrather because Alice was of a more refined and fastidious nature thanthose who "would a-wooing go. "

She was like a flower herself, not only in looks, but in delicacy offeeling and sentiment, and her sweet face, sheltered by a mourning-haton Sunday at church, was a magnet that drew the eyes of many a villageswain. The days and weeks of her new life as a teacher passed inuneventful procession until one by one the leaves had fallen from thetwo big elm trees in front of the desolate home, the meadows were butlevel fields of snow, and Christmas was only two weeks away. Then shereceived a letter from the absent brother that caused her heart to beatwith unusual excitement. It read:

 DEAR SIS: Three weeks ago I received a most flattering proposal from Mr. Nason, Frank's father, who offered me a good salary to take charge of his law business, and also the chance to accept anything else that came my way. I have a nice office now in a block he owns, and am so busy I do not find time to write to you even. It's an opening of a lifetime, and I owe it mainly to Frank. Now I am so homesick I am coming up to spend Christmas with you, and I've invited Frank to come also. We shall be up the day before and stay till the Monday after. Frank has done so much for me that I want to entertain him in the best way possible. He knows absolutely nothing about country life, and it may be dull for him, but he seems desirous of coming, and so I want you to help me to make it cheerful for him. To be candid, sis, I think the chance to see you, whom he has heard me say so much about, is the real loadstone. I enclose a bit of paper, and I want you to use it all in any way you wish. 

It was a check for one hundred dollars!

It was not strange that at school next day Alice's thoughts were not onthe recitations, and when one boy spelled beauty "b-o-o-t-i-e, " andraised a laugh, she did not understand why it was. Children are in someways as keen as briers, and her pupils soon discovered that "teacher"was absent-minded and they whispered right and left. When she discoveredit she didn't have the heart to punish them, and was glad when the timecame to dismiss school. 

The instinct of her sex was strong within her, however, and that nightshe said to Aunt Susan:

"Do you think, auntie, we could manage between us to make up some sortof a pretty house-dress? Of course I must wear black when I go out, butit would be no harm to wear something brighter at home. I could get somedelicate gray cashmere, and Mrs. Sloper can cut and fit it, and you andI can make it evenings. I want a sort of house-gown trimmed with satin. I wish I dared to have a new hat for church, with a little color init, --my mourning-bonnet makes me look so old, --but I am afraid peoplewould talk. "

The feminine fear of looking old was needless in her case. 

But how the days dragged, and how many times she counted them to see howmany more were to pass ere that dearly beloved brother was to arrive!And what sort of a looking fellow was this Frank? she wondered. Shehoped he was tall and dark, not too tall, but good and stout. And howcould she ever entertain them? She could play and sing a few prettyballads, and any number of hymns, but as for conversation she feltherself wholly deficient. Of the world of art, literature, and the dramashe knew but little. She had read a good many novels, it is true, andhad seen "Uncle Tom's Cabin, " "East Lynne, " and one or two othertear-moving dramas played in the town hall, but that was all. She hadnever even journeyed as far as Boston or New York. "He will think me asgreen as the hills around us, " she thought ruefully, "but I can't helpit. I can cook some nice things for him to eat, anyhow, and Bert must dothe talking. I wonder if he plays the piano. I hope not, for if he doesI'll not touch it. "

Christmas came on Thursday that year and her school was to close for aweek on the Friday before. She had a little plan in her mind, and thelast day of school she called on two of the big boys to help her. 

"My brother is coming home to spend Christmas, " she said to them, "and Iwant a lot of ground-pine to trim up the house. Will you bring me some?"

If there is anything that will touch a country boy's heart it is to have"teacher"--and especially a young and pretty teacher--ask him to go forground-pine; so it is needless to say that Alice was supplied with anample outfit of that graceful vine. More than that, they begged for theprivilege of helping her festoon it, and when long ropes of it weredraped over the windows and above the fireplace in the big parlor, andthe hall and dining-room received the same decoration, the housepresented a cheerful appearance. The culinary department was notneglected either, and a great store of pies, frosted cake, and doughnutswas prepared. 

"I do not know what I should do without you, Aunt Susan, " the fair younghostess said the day before the guests were to arrive; "I couldn't dothis all alone, and I want to give Bert a welcome. "

It may be surmised that consideration for that big brother was not thesole force that moved her, but the veil that shelters the heart of asweet young girl must not be rudely drawn aside. She had written: "Ishall be only too glad to do all in my power, in my poor way, toentertain your friend who has done so much for you, " and we will letthat disclosure of gratitude suffice. 

CHAPTER XI

BY THE FIRESIDE

"You must not expect much excitement up in Sandgate, " Albert said to hisfriend the day they started for that quiet village. "It is a smallplace, and all the people do in the winter is to chop wood, shovel snow, eat, and go to meeting. We shall go sleighing and I shall take you tochurch to be stared at, and for the rest Alice and Aunt Susan will giveus plenty to eat. "

It must be admitted that this same Alice, whose picture had sointerested him, was the attraction which made young Nason glad to accepthis friend's cordial invitation, and then he really felt a very warmfriendship for that friend. It is likely that the perfect sincerity andwholesome ideas of Albert attracted and held his rather more pliable andeasy-going nature. The strong attract the weak, among men, and FrankNason, never having been hardened by adversity, looked up to and admiredthe man who had courage and perseverance. He wondered if Alice was likehim, and rather hoped not. It was nearly dark and snowing when theyreached Sandgate, and when he saw a plump girlish figure with slightlywhitened garments rush forward, almost jump into his friend's arms, andkiss him vehemently, it occurred to him that a welcome home by such asister was worth coming many miles for. 

Then he heard his name mumbled in a hurried introduction and, as heraised his hat, saw this girl withdraw a small hand from a mitten andoffer it to him. 

"I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Nason, " she said with a bright smile;"my brother has told me so much about you I feel almost acquainted. " Andthen, turning to that brother, she added: "I have the horse hitchedoutside, Bert, so we will go right home. "

She led the way, and when they had stowed their belongings in the sleighshe said, "You can hold me in your lap, Bert, and I'll drive. I'm usedto it now. " She chirruped to the rather docile horse, and as the bellsbegan to jingle she added: "What have you got in that box, Bertie?"

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no fibs, Miss Curious, " heanswered. "Wait until to-morrow and then I'll show you. "

When they drove into the yard he said: "Take Frank right in, sis, andI'll unharness. "

It was quite dark now, but Frank noticed, as he gathered up the bags andbundles and followed his hostess, that the rather stately house wasaglow with light. 

"Leave your hat and coat here in the hall, Mr. Nason, " she saidcordially, "and go right into the parlor and get warm. You will kindlyexcuse me now. I'm first and second girl, housemaid and cook, and I mustgo and help Aunt Susan to get supper ready. You two gentlemen arehungry, I'm sure. "

It was not a formal reception, but it was a cordial one, which wasbetter, and when Frank entered the parlor he was surprised at thecheerful sight, for the room was festooned all around with ropes ofevergreen. The long mantel over the fireplace, bright with flames, wasbanked with a mass of green, and against each white lace curtain hung awreath. In one corner stood an upright piano, in sharp contrast with therather antique hair-cloth chairs and sofa. He had just drawn a chair tothe fire, when Albert came in and gave a low whistle at the sight of thedecorations. "That's one of the perquisites of a country schoolma'am, "he observed, "and I'll bet the boys that gathered all this green forAlice enjoyed getting it. I used to when I was a boy. Well, oldfellow, " he added, addressing Frank, "here we are, and you must makeyourself at home. "

Then Alice came in and announced supper, and after Aunt Susan had beenintroduced, they all sat down. It was an old-fashioned meal, for whilethe brother helped to the ham and eggs and fried potatoes, Aunt Susanserved the quince preserves and passed the hot biscuit, and Alice pouredthe tea. The table too had a Christmas touch, for around the mat wherethe lamp stood was a green wreath brightened with clusters of redberries. It was all a charming picture, and not the least of it was thefair girl who so graciously played the hostess. When the meal was overshe said:

"Now you two gentlemen must go into the parlor and smoke, and I'll joinyou later. I command you to smoke, " she added imperiously, "for I wantthe house to smell as if there was a man around. "

When she came in later, wearing her new house-dress, she drew her chairclose to her brother's and resting her elbows on his knee and her chinin her open palms she looked up and said with a witching smile:

"Now, Bertie, I've fed you nicely, haven't I? and I've done all I couldfor your comfort, so now please tell me what is in that long flat boxyou brought. "

It was charmingly done, but the big brother was proof against her wiles. "You are a bewitching coaxer, sis, " he answered, "but I am hard-hearted. I'll make a trade with you, though. First tell us all about yourschool-teaching and sing us all the songs I ask for, and then I'll openthe box. "

"You are very modest in your wants, " she replied archly, "but like allmen you must be humored to keep you good-natured, I presume. "

"I wish you would tell us about your school, Miss Page, " put in Frank;"you are not a bit like the schoolma'am of my boyhood, and I would liketo know how you manage children. "

"Well, it was a little hard at first, " she answered, "for boys and girlsof ten and twelve have surprisingly keen intuitions, and it seemed to methey made a study of my face from the first and concluded I wassoft-hearted. I had one little boy that was a born mischief-maker, buthe had such winsome ways I had to love him in spite of it. But he had tobe punished some way, and so one day I kept him after school and thentold him I must whip him hard, but not at that time. I explained to himwhat I was going to punish him for, 'but, ' I said, 'I shall not do itto-night. I may do it to-morrow or the day after, but I will not tellyou when the whipping is to come until I am ready to do it. ' My littleplan was a success, for the next night he waited till all the rest hadgone, and then came to me with tears in his eyes, and begged me to whiphim then. I didn't, though, and told him I wouldn't until he disobeyedagain. He has been the most obedient boy in the school ever since. Thereis one little girl who has won my heart, though, in the oddest way youcan imagine. The day I received your letter, Bert, I was so happy thatthe school ran riot, and I never knew it. They must have seen it in myface, I think. Well, when school was out, this girl, a shy little bodyof ten, sidled up to my desk and said, 'Pleath may I kith you, teacher, 'fore I go home?' It was such an odd and pretty bit of feeling, itnearly brought tears to my eyes. "

"I should like to give that little girl a box of candy, Miss Page, "observed Frank, "and then ask her for a kiss myself. "

For an hour Alice kept both the young men interested in her anecdotes ofschool-teaching, and then her brother said:

"Come, sis, you must sing some, or no box to-night!"

"Well, " she replied, smiling, "what shall it be? a few gems from Moodyand Sankey, or from 'Laurel Leaves'?" And then turning to Frank sheadded: "My brother just dotes on church music!"

"Alice, " said her brother with mock sternness, "if you fib like that youknow the penalty!"

"Do you play or sing, Mr. Nason?" she inquired, not heeding her brother. 

"I do not know one note from another, " he answered. 

"Well, that is fortunate for me, " she said; "I only sing a fewold-fashioned ballads, and help out at church. "

Then without further apology she went to the piano. "Come, Bertie, " shesaid, "you must help me, and we will go through the College Songs. " Andgo through them they did, beginning with "Clementine" and ending with"The Quilting Party. "

"Now, sis, " said her brother, "I want 'Old Folks at Home, ' 'AnnieLaurie, ' 'Rock-a-bye, ' and 'Ben Bolt, ' and then I'll open the box. "

It was a simple, old-fashioned home parlor entertainment, and no doubtmost musical artists would have sneered at the programme, but Alice hada wonderfully sweet and sympathetic soprano voice, and as Frank satwatching the fitful flames play hide-and-seek in the open fire, andlistened to those time-worn ballads, it seemed to him he had never heardsinging quite so sweet. Much depends upon the time and place, andperhaps the romance of the open fire sparkling beneath the bank ofevergreen, and making the roses come into the fair singer's cheeks, andwarming the golden sheen of her hair, had much to do with it. When shecame to "Ben Bolt, " that old ditty that has all the pathos of our lostyouth in it, there was a tiny quiver in her voice; and when shefinished, had he been near he would have seen the glint of two unshedtears in her eyes, for the song carried her thoughts to where her motherwas at rest. 

It was the first time he had ever heard that song, and he neverafterwards forgot it. 

"Now, Bertie, " said Alice coaxingly, after she had finished singing, "haven't I earned the box?"

It was an appeal that few men could resist, and certainly not AlbertPage, and, true to his promise, he gave her the mysterious box. Withexcited fingers she untied the cords, tore off the wrapper, and as shelifted the cover she saw--a beautiful seal-skin sacque!

We will leave to the reader's imagination any and all the expressionsthat followed, for no pen can give them with all their girlish fervor, and when the exciting incident was over, it was time for retiring. 

That evening, with its simple home enjoyments, sincere and wholesome, its bright open fire, the unaffected cordiality of brother and sister, and beyond all, the feeling that he was a welcome guest, made those fewhours ones long to be remembered by Frank. To begin with, the cheerfulfire was a novelty to him, and perhaps that added a touch of romance. Then Alice herself was a surprise. He had been captivated by herpicture, but had half expected to find her a timid country girl, too shyto do aught but answer "yes" and "no, " and look pleasant. Then her voicewas also a surprise, and when he reached the seclusion of his room ithaunted him. And more than that, so intently had its bird-like sweetnesscharmed him that it usurped all his thoughts. He had thanked her for theentertainment, of course, but now that he was alone, it seemed to himthat his formal thanks had been too feeble an expression. "I don'twonder Bert adores her, " he thought; "she is the most winsome, unaffected, and sweet little lady I ever met. If I were to remain inthis house a week I should be madly in love with her myself. "

He was a good deal so, as it was. 

CHAPTER XII

A COUNTRY SCHOOLMA'AM

"I have directed our liveryman to send over his best nag and a cutterthis morning, " said Albert at breakfast the next day to his friend, "andyou and Alice can take a sleigh-ride and see Sandgate snow-clad. I havesome business matters to attend to. "

Later, when he was alone with Alice, he added with a smile: "You neednot feel obliged to wear your new sacque, sis; it's not very cold. "

"Oh, you tease!" she replied, but the light in her eyes betrayed herfeelings. 

It was a delightful day for a sleigh-ride, for every bush and tree wascovered with a white fleece of snow, and the morning sun added a tinysparkle to every crystal. A thicket of spruce was changed to a grove oftowering white cones and an alder swamp to a fantastic fairyland. It wasall new to Frank, and as he drove away with that bright and vivaciousgirl for a companion it is needless to say he enjoyed it to the utmost. 

"I had no idea your town was so hemmed in by mountains, " he said afterthey started and he had a chance to look around; "why, you arecompletely shut in, and such grand ones, too! They are more beautifulthan the White Mountains and more graceful in shape. "

"They are all of that, " answered Alice, "and yet at times they make mefeel as if I was shut in, away from all the world. We who see them everyday forget their beauty and only feel their desolation, for a greattree-clad mountain is desolate in winter, I think. At least it is apt toreflect one's mood. I suppose you have travelled a great deal, Mr. Nason?"

"Not nearly as much as I ought to, " he answered, "for the reason that Ican't find any one I like to go with me. My mother and sisters go awayto some watering-place every summer and stay there, and father sticks tobusiness. I either dawdle around where the folks are summers, or stay intown and hate myself, if I can't find some one to go off on my yachtwith me. The fact is, Miss Page, " he added mournfully, "I have hard workto kill time. I can get a little party to run to Newport or Bar Harborin the summer, and that is all. I should like to go to Florida or theWest Indies in the winter, or to Labrador or Greenland summers, but Ican't find company. "

Alice was silent for a moment, for the picture of a young mancomplaining because he had nothing to do but spend his time and moneywas new to her. 

"You are to be pitied, " she said at last, with a tinge of sarcasm, "butstill, there are just a few who would envy you. "

He made no reply, for he did not quite understand whether she meant tobe sarcastic or not. They rode along in silence for a time, and thenAlice pointed to a small square brown building just ahead, almost hid inbushes, and said:

"Do you see that magnificent structure we are coming to, and do younotice its grand columns and lofty dome? If you had been a country boyyou would recollect seeing a picture of it in the spelling-book. Take agood look at it, for that is a temple of knowledge, and it is there Iteach school!"

Frank was silent, for this time the sarcastic tone in her voice was morepronounced. When they reached it he stopped and said quietly, "Pleasehold the reins. I want to look into the room where you spend your days. "

He took a good long look, and when he returned he said, "So that is whatyou call a temple, is it? And it was in there the little girl wanted tokiss you because you looked happy?" And then as they drove on he added, "Do you know, I've thought of that pretty little touch of feeling adozen times since you told about it, and when I go home I shall send abox of candy to you and ask you to do me the favor of giving it to thatlittle girl. "

It was not what she expected he would say, and it rather pleased her. 

Conversation is but an exchange of moods, and in spite of theirinspiring surroundings, the moods of those two young people did not seemto appeal to each other. To Alice, whose constant life of self-denialhad made her feel that the world was cold and selfish, his complaintsseemed little short of sacrilege; and he felt he had made a mess of itsomehow in his really honest desire to be sincere. But two people soplaced must talk, whether they feel like it or not, and so these twotried hard to be sociable. He wisely allowed her to do the most talking, and was really interested in her humorous descriptions ofschool-teaching. When they were nearly home he said:

"You are not a bit like what I imagined a schoolma'am was like. "

"Did you think I wore blue glasses and petted a black cat?" she askedlaughingly. 

"The glasses might be a protection to susceptible young men, " heanswered, "and for that reason I would advise you to wear them. "

"Shall I get some to-morrow to wear while you are here?" she queriedwith a smile. "I will if you feel in danger. "

"Would you do it if I admitted I was?" he replied, resolving to standhis ground, and looking squarely at her. 

But that elusive young lady was not to be cornered. 

"You remind me of a story Bert told once, " she said, "about an Irishmanwho was called upon to plead guilty or not guilty to the charge ofdrunkenness. When asked afterwards how he pleaded he said: 'Bedad, Igive the judge an equivocal answer. ' 'And what was that?' said hisfriend. 'Begorra, whin the judge axed me was I guilty or not guilty, Ianswered, "Was yer grandfather a monkey?" And then he gave me sixtydays. '"

"Well, " replied Frank, "that is a good story, but it doesn't answer myquestion. "

That afternoon when Alice was alone with her brother, he said: "Well, sis, how do you like my friend?"

"Oh, he means to be nice, " she replied, "but he is a little thoughtless, and it would do him good to have to work for his living a year or two. "

Albert looked at his sister, while an amused smile spread over his face, and then said:

"If you weren't so abominably pretty you wouldn't be so fussy. Mostyoung ladies would consider the good-looking and only son of amillionaire absolutely perfect at sight. "

"But I don't, " she replied, "and if you weren't the best brother in theworld I'd box your ears! 'Abominably pretty!' The idea!"

The two days intervening before Sunday passed all too quickly for thethree young people. One day they drove to a distant country town and haddinner, and that evening Alice, true to her sex, invited Frank to gowith her to call upon her dearest girl friend. Just why she did this wewill leave to any young lady to answer, if she will. The next day Albertinvited a little party, and that evening they all met at the old millpond and had a skating frolic. Secluded as it was, between wooded banks, it was just the place for that kind of fun, and the young men addedromance to the scene by lighting a bonfire! When Sunday morning camethey of course attended church, and Frank, as promised, found himselfslyly stared at by all the people of Sandgate. He did not pay muchattention to the sermon, but a good deal to a certain sweet sopranovoice in the choir, and when after service Alice joined them, he boldlywalked right away with her and left Albert chatting with a neighbor. Itis certain that this proceeding did not displease her, for no wise younglady is averse to the assumed protectorship of a good-looking andwell-dressed young man, especially when other girls are looking on. 

On the way home she, of course, asked the usual question as to how heliked the sermon. 

"I don't think I heard ten words of it, " he replied; "I was kept busycounting how many I caught looking at me, and whenever the choir sang Iforgot to count. Why was it they stared at me so much? Is a strangerhere a walking curiosity?"

"In a way, yes, " answered Alice; "they don't mean to be rude, but a newface at church is a curio. I'll wager that nine out of ten who werethere this morning are at this moment discussing your looks andwondering who and what you are. "

But all visits come to an end, and Frank, already more than half in lovewith the girl who had treated him in a rather cool though perfectlycourteous way, realized that he would soon be not only out of sight, butout of mind, so far as Alice was concerned. In a way he had been spoiledby being sought after by managing mammas and over-anxious daughters, andwas unprepared for the slightly indifferent reception he had met withfrom Alice. He had been attracted by her face the first time he saw herpicture, and five days' association had not lessened the attraction. 

A realization of her cool indifference tinged his feelings that eveningjust at dusk, where he had been left alone beside the freshly startedparlor fire, and when the object of his thought happened in, he satstaring moodily at the flames. She drew a chair opposite, and seatingherself, said pleasantly:

"Why so pensive, Mr. Nason? Has going to church made you feelrepentant?"

"I don't feel the need of repentance except in one way, " he answered, "and that you would not be interested in. If I am looking pensive, " hecontinued, turning towards her, "it's because I'm going away to-morrow. "

It was a step towards dangerous ground, and she realized it, but alittle spice of daring coquetry impelled her to say:

"Tell me what you feel to repent of; I may be able to offer you somegood advice. "

He had turned toward the fire again, and sat shading his face with onehand, and slowly passing his fingers across his forehead. For a momenthe waited, and then answered:

"To be candid, Miss Page, I'm growing ashamed of the useless life Ilead, and it's that I feel to repent of. A few things your brother saidto me three months ago were the beginning, and a remark you made the daywe first went sleighing has served to increase that feeling. Ever sinceI left college I have led an aimless life, bored to death by _ennui_, and conscious that no one was made any happier by my existence. WhatBert said to me, and your remark, have only served to make me realize itmore fully. "

They were both on risky ground now, and no one knew it better thanAlice, but she did not lose her head. 

"I am very sorry, Mr. Nason, " she said pleasantly, "if any words of minehurt you even a little. I have forgotten what they were, and wish youwould. The visit which you and Bert are making me is a most delightfulbreak in the monotony of my life, and I shall be very glad to see youagain. " And then rising she added, "If I hurt you, please say youforgive me, for I must go out and see to getting tea. "

It was an adroit escape from a predicament, and she felt relieved. Itmust also be stated that her visitor had taken a long step upward in herestimation. 

The last evening was passed much like the first, except that now theelusive Alice seemed to be transformed into a far more gracious hostess, and all her smiles and interest seemed to be lavished upon Frankinstead of her brother. It was as if this occult little lady had come tofeel a new and surprising curiosity in all that concerned the life andamusements of her visitor. With true feminine skill she plied him withall manner of questions, and affected the deepest interest in all he hadto say. What were his sisters' amusements? Did they entertain much, playtennis, golf, or ride? Where did they usually go summers, and did hegenerally go with them? His own comings and goings, and where he hadbeen and what he saw there, were also made a part of the grist he wasencouraged to grind. She even professed a keen interest in his yacht, and listened patiently to a most elaborate description of that craft, although as a row-boat was the largest vessel she had ever set foot on, it is likely she did not gain a very clear idea of the "Gypsy. "

"Your yacht has a very suggestive name, " she said; "it makes one thinkof green woods and camp-fires. I should dearly love to take a sail inher. I have read so much about yachts and yachting that the idea ofsailing along the shores in one's own floating house, as it were, has afascination for me. "

This expression of taste was so much in line with Frank's, and the ideaof having this charming girl for a yachting companion so tempting, thathis face glowed. 

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure, " he responded, "than to haveyou for a guest on my boat, Miss Page. I think it could be managed if Icould only coax my mother and sisters to go, and you and your brotherwould join us. We would visit the Maine coast resorts and have no end ofa good time. "

"It's a delightful outing you suggest, " she answered, "and I thank youvery much; but I wouldn't think of coming if your family had to becoaxed to go, and then, it's not likely that Bert could find the time. "

"Oh, I didn't mean it that way, " he said, looking serious, "only motherand the girls are afraid of the water, that is all. "

When conversation lagged Frank begged that she would sing for him, andsuggested selections from Moody and Sankey; and despite her brother'ssarcastic remark that it wasn't a revival meeting they were holding, shenot only played and sang all those time-worn melodies, but a lot ofothers from older collections. When retiring-time came, Frank asked thatshe conclude with "Ben Bolt. "

"I shall not need to recall that song to remind me of you, " he said in alow voice as he spread it on the music rack in front of her, "but Ishall always feel its mood when I think of you. "

"Does that mean that you will think of me as sleeping 'in a cornerobscure and alone' in some churchyard?" she responded archly. 

"By no means, " he said, "only I may perhaps have a little of the samemood at times that Ben Bolt had when he heard of the fate of his sweetAlice. "

It was a pretty speech and Frank imagined she threw a little more thanusual pathos into the song after it; but then, no doubt his imaginationwas biased by his feelings. 

When they stood on the platform the next morning awaiting the train, hesaid quietly:

"May I send you a few books and some new songs when I get home, MissPage? I want to show you how much I have enjoyed this visit. "

"It is very nice of you to say so, " she replied, "and I shall be glad tobe remembered, and hope you will visit us again. "

When the train came in he rather hurriedly offered his hand and with a"Permit me to thank you again, " as he raised his hat, turned away togather up the satchels and so as not to be witness to her leave-takingfrom her brother. 

It was a tactful act that was not lost upon her. 

CHAPTER XIII

SOUTHPORT ISLAND

In summer Southport Island, as yet untainted by the tide of outingtravel, was a spot to inspire dreams, poetry, and canvases covered withocean lore. Its many coves and inlets where the tides ebbed and flowedamong the weed-covered rocks; its bold cliffs, sea washed, and abovewhich the white gulls and fish-hawks circled; the deep thickets ofspruce through which the ocean winds murmured, and where great beds offerns and clusters of red bunch-berries grew, were one and all leftundisturbed, week in, week out. 

At the Cape, where Uncle Terry, Aunt Lissy, and Telly lived their simplehome life, and Bascom, the storekeeper and postmaster, talkedunceasingly when he could find a listener, and Deacon Oaks wondered why"the grace o' God hadn't freed the land from stuns, " no one ever came todisturb its quietude. Every morning Uncle Terry, often accompanied byTelly in a calico dress and sunbonnet, rowed out to pull his lobstertraps, and after dinner harnessed and drove to the head of the island tomeet the mail boat, then at eventide, after lighting his pipe and thelighthouse lamp at about the same time, generally strolled over toBascom's to have a chat, while Telly made a call on the "Widder Leach, "a misanthropic but pious protegée of hers, and Aunt Lissy read the"Boston Journal. " Once in about three weeks, according to weather, themonotony of the village was disturbed by the arrival of the smallschooner owned jointly by Uncle Terry, Oaks, and Bascom, and which pliedbetween the Cape and Boston. Once in two weeks services were held asusual in the little brown church, and as often the lighthouse tendercalled and left coal and oil for Uncle Terry. Regularly on Thursdayevenings the few piously inclined, led by Deacon Oaks, gathered in thechurch to sing hymns they repeated fifty-two times each year, listen toa prayer by Oaks, that seldom varied in a single sentence, and heardAuntie Leach thank the Lord for his "many mercies, " though what theywere in her case it would be hard to tell, unless being permitted tolive alone and work hard to live at all was a mercy. The scatteredislanders and the handful whose dwellings comprised the Cape workedhard, lived frugally, and were unconscious that all around them was arocky shore whose cliffs and inlets and beaches were so many poems ofpicturesque and charming scenery. 

This was Southport in summer, but in winter when the little harbor atthe Cape was ice-bound, the winding road to the head of the islandburied beneath drifts, and the people often for weeks at a timeabsolutely cut off from communication with the rest of the world, it wasa place cheerless in its desolation. Like so many woodchucks then, theresidents kept within doors, or only stirred out to cut wood, fodder thestock, and shovel paths so that the children could go to school. Thedays were short and the evenings long, and to get together and spendhours in labored conversation the only pastime. It was one of those longevenings, and when Aunt Lissy and Telly were at a neighbor's, and UncleTerry, left to himself, was reading every line, including theadvertisements, in the last "Boston Journal, " that the following met hiseye:

 WANTED. --Information that will lead to the discovery of an heir to the estate of one Eric Peterson, a land-owner and shipbuilder of Stockholm, Sweden, whose son, with his wife, child, and crew, were known to have been wrecked on the coast of Maine, in March, 187-. Nothing has ever been heard of said Peterson or his wife, but the child may have been saved. Any one having information that will lead to the discovery of this child will be amply rewarded by communicating with

 NICHOLAS FRYE, -- PEMBERTON SQUARE, BOSTON. _Attorney at Law. _

"Wal, I'll be everlastin'ly gol darned!" he exclaimed after he had readit for the third time. "If this don't beat all natur, I'm a goat. "

It was fortunate he was alone, for it gave him time to think the matterover, and after half an hour of astonishment he decided to say nothingto his wife or Telly. 

"I'll jis' breathe easy an' sag up, " he said to himself, "same as thoughI was crossin' thin ice, an' if nothin' comes on't nobody'll be theworse for worryin'. "

Then he cut the slip out and hid it in his black leather wallet, andthen wisely cut out the entire page and burned it. 

"Wimmin are sich curis creeters they'd be sure to want to know what I'dcut out o' that page, " he said to himself, "an' never rest till I told'em. "

When Aunt Lissy and Telly came home he was as composed as a rock and satquietly puffing his pipe, with his feet on top of a chair and pointingtowards the fire. 

"Were you lonesome, father?" asked Telly, who usually led conversationin the Terry home. "We stopped at Bascom's, and you know he never stopstalking. "

"He's worse'n burdock burs ter git away from, " answered Uncle Terry, "an' ye can't be perlite ter him unless ye want t' spend the rest o' yerlife listenin'. His tongue allus seemed ter be hung in the middle an'wag both ways. I wasn't lonesome, " he continued, rising and adding a fewsticks to the fire, as the two women laid aside their wraps and drewchairs up; "I've read the paper purty well through an' had a spell o'livin' over by-gones, " and then, turning to Telly and smiling, he added:"I got thinkin' o' the day ye came ashore, an' mother she got thatexcited she sot the box ye was in on the stove an' then put more woodin. It's a wonder she didn't put ye in the stove instead o' the wood!"

As this joke was not new to the listeners, no notice was taken of it, and the three lapsed into silence. 

Outside the steady boom of the surf beating on the rocks came withmonotonous regularity, and inside the clock ticked. For a long timeUncle Terry sat and smoked on in silence, resuming, perhaps, hisby-gones, and then said: "By the way, Telly, what's become o' themtrinkets o' yourn ye had on that day? It's been so long now, 'mosttwenty years, I 'bout forgot 'em. I s'pose ye hain't lost 'em, hev ye?"

"Why, no, father, " she answered, a little surprised. "I hope not. Theyare all in the box in my bureau, and no one ever disturbs them. "

"Ye wouldn't mind fetchin' 'em now, would ye, Telly?" he continued afterdrawing a long whiff of smoke and slowly emitting it in rings. "It'sbeen so many years, an' since I got thinkin' 'bout it I'd like to take alook at 'em, jest to remind me o' that fortunate day ye came to us. "

The girl arose, and going upstairs, returned with a small tin box shapedlike a trunk, and drawing the table up in front of Uncle Terry, set thebox down upon it. It is likely that its contents were so many links thatbound the two together, for as he opened it she perched herself on thearm of his chair, and leaning against his shoulder, passed one armcaressingly around his neck and watched him take out the contents. 

First came a soft, fleecy baby blanket, then two little garments, oncewhitest muslin but now yellow with age, and then another smaller one offlannel. Pinned to this were two tiny shoes of knitted wool. In thebottom of the box was a small wooden shoe, and though clumsy incomparison, yet evidently fashioned to fit a lady's foot. Tucked inthis was a little box tied with faded ribbon, and in this were a locketand chain, two rings, and a scrap of paper. The writing on the paper, once hastily scrawled by a despairing mother's hand, had almost faded, and inside the locket were two faces, one a man's with strongly markedfeatures, the other girlish with big eyes and hair in curls. 

These were all the heritage of this waif of the sea who now, a fair girlwith eyes and face like the woman's picture, was leaning on the shoulderof her foster-father, and they told a pathetic tale of life and death;of romance and mystery not yet unwoven, and a story not yet told. 

How many times that orphan girl had imagined what that tale might be;how often before she had examined every one of those mute tokens; howmany times gazed with moist eyes at the faces in the locket; and how, asthe years bearing her onward toward maturity passed, had she hoped andwaited, hoping ever that some word, some whisper from that far-off landof her birth might reach her! But none ever came, and now hope was dead. 

And as she looked at those mute relics which told so little and yet somuch of her history, while the old man who had been all that a kindfather could be to her took them out one by one, she realized more thanever before what a debt of gratitude she owed to him. When he had lookedthem over and put them back in the exact order in which they had beenpacked, he closed the box, and taking the little hand that had beencaressing his face in his own wrinkled and bony one, held it for amoment. When he released it the girl stooped, and pressing her lips tohis weather-browned cheek, arose and resumed her seat. Had observanteyes watched her then, they would have noticed that hers remained closedfor a few moments and that two tears glistened there. 

"Wal, ye better put the box away now, " said Uncle Terry at last. "I'lljest go out an' take a look off'n the pint and then it'll be time toturn in. "

CHAPTER XIV

A LEGALIZED PICKPOCKET

"I've got ter go ter Boston, " said Uncle Terry to his wife a few dayslater. "Thar's some money due us that we ain't sartin we'll git. You an'Telly can tend the lights for a couple o' nights, can't ye? I won't begone more'n that. Bascom's to take me up to the head, an' if the boat'srunnin' I'll be all right. "

This plan had cost Uncle Terry a good deal of diplomacy. Not only did hehave to invent a reasonable excuse for going by exciting the fears ofboth Bascom and Oaks regarding money really due them, but he had toallay the curiosity of his wife and Telly as well. In a small villagelike the Cape every one's movements were well known to all and commentedon, and no one was better aware of it than Uncle Terry. But go to Bostonhe must, and to do so right in the dead of winter, when to take such atrip was an unheard-of thing, and not excite a small tempest of curiousgossip, taxed his Yankee wit. 

At Bath he had a few hours' wait, and went to the bank and drew asizable sum of money from his small savings. 

"Lawyers are sech sharps, consarn 'em!" he said to himself, "I'd bettergo loaded. Most likely I'll come back skinned! I never did tackle alawyer 'thout losin' my shirt. "

When, after an all-night ride, during which he sat in the smoking-carwith his pipe and thoughts for company, he arrived in Boston, he felt, as he would phrase it, like a cat in a strange garret. He had tried tofortify himself against the expected meeting with this Frye, who he feltsure would, like all his profession, make him pay dearly for anyservice. When he entered the rather untidy office of that legal light hewas not surprised to find that its occupant much resembled a vulture. 

"Well, sir, what can I do for you?" asked Frye, after his visitor hadintroduced himself. 

"Wal, " answered Uncle Terry, taking a seat and laying his hat on thefloor beside him, "I've come on rather a curis errand;" and taking outthe slip he had a few days before placed in his wallet, he handed it toFrye with the remark: "That's my errand. "

Frye's face brightened. 

"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Terry, " he said, beginning to rub hishands together. "If you have any facts in your possession that will aidus in the search for an heir to this estate we shall be glad to pay youfor them, provided they are facts. Now, sir, what is your story?"

Uncle Terry looked at the lawyer a moment before answering. 

"I didn't come here to tell all I knew the fust go-off, " he said. "Iknow all 'bout this shipwreck, an' a good deal more that'll consarn ye, but fust I want to know who is lookin' for the information, an' what'slikely to cum on't. "

It was Frye's turn to stare now. 

"This man won't be any easy witness, " he thought; and then he said:"That I am not at liberty to disclose until I know what facts you canestablish, but rest assured that any information you may have, if it beproved of real value, will entitle you to an ample reward. "

"I reckon ye don't quite ketch on ter my drift, " replied Uncle Terry. "Ididn't cum here lookin' fer pay, but to see that justice was sarved andthem as had rights got thar dues. "

"Well, sir, " said Frye, in a suave voice, "we too are looking to see theends of justice served, but you must understand that in a matter of thisimportance we must make no mistakes. An estate awaits a claimant, butthat claimant must establish his or her identity beyond the shadow of adoubt, in order, as you must see, that justice may be done. "

"Wal, " replied Uncle Terry, stroking his chin with his thumb and fingerwhile he deliberated, "I s'pose I may as well tell ye fust as last. Icum here for that purpose, an' all I want to fix is, if thar's nothin'in it ye'd keep it a secret and not raise any false hopes in the mindso' them as is near and dear to me. "

"It's a lawyer's professional duty never to disclose any businessconfidence that a client may confide to him, " answered Frye withdignity, "and in this matter I infer you wish to become my client. Am Iright, Mr. Terry?"

"I didn't cum here exactly purposin' to hire ye, " answered Uncle Terry;"I cum to find what's in the wind, an', if 'twas likely to 'mount toanything, to tell all I knew an' see that them as had rights gotjustice. As I told ye in the fust on't, I'm keeper o' the light at theend o' Southport Island, an' have been for thirty year. 

"One night in March, just nineteen year ago comin' this spring, thar wasa small bark got a-foul o' White Hoss Ledge right off'n the pint andstayed thar hard an' fast. I seen her soon as 'twas light, but thar wasnothin' that could be done but build a fire an' stand an' watch the poorcritters go down. Long toward noon I spied a bundle workin' in, an' whenit struck I made fast to it with a boat hook an' found a baby inside an'alive. My wife an' I took care on't, and have been doing so ever since. It was a gal baby and she growed up into a young lady. 'Bout ten yearsago we took out papers legally adoptin' her, an' so she's ourn. From apaper we found pinned to her clothes, we learned her name was EtelkaPeterson, an' that her mother, an' we supposed her father, went downthat day right in sight o' us. Thar was a locket round the child's neck, an' a couple o' rings in the box, an' we have kept 'em an' the papersan' all her baby clothes ever since. That's the hull story. "

"How did this child live to get ashore?" asked Frye, keenly interested. 

"That's the curis part, " replied Uncle Terry; "she was put in a box an'tied 'tween two feather beds an' cum ashore dry as a duck. "

Frye stroked his nose reflectively, stooping over as he did and watchinghis visitor with hawk-like eyes. 

"A very well-told tale, Mr. Terry, " he said at last. "A very well-toldtale indeed! Of course you have retained all the articles you say werefound on the child?"

"Yes, we've kept 'em all, you may be sure, " replied Uncle Terry. 

"And why did you never make any official report of this wreck and of thefacts you state?" asked Frye. 

"I did at the time, " answered Uncle Terry, "but nothin' cum on't. Iguess my report is thar in Washington now, if it ain't lost. "

"And do I understand you wish to retain me as your counsel in thismatter, and lay claim to this estate, Mr. Terry?" continued Frye. 

"Wal, I've told ye the facts, " replied Uncle Terry, "an' if the gal'sgot money comin' I'd like to see her git it. What's goin' to be the costo' doin' the business?"

"The matter of expense is hard to state in such a case as this, "answered Frye cautiously. "The estate is a large one; there may be, andno doubt will be, other claimants; litigation may follow, and so thecost is an uncertain one. I shall be glad to act for you in this matter, and will do so if you retain me. "

It is said that those who hesitate are lost, and at this critical momentUncle Terry hesitated. 

He did not like the looks of Frye. He suspected him to be what he was--ashrewd, smooth, plausible villain. Had he obeyed his first impulse hewould have picked up his hat and left Frye to wash his hands withinvisible soap, and laid his case before some other lawyer, but hehesitated. Frye, he knew, had the matter in his hands and might make theclaim that his story was false and fight it with all the legal weaponsUncle Terry so much dreaded. In the end he decided to put the matter inFrye's hands and hope for the best. 

"I shall want you to send me a detailed story of this wreck, sworn to byyourself and wife, " said Frye, "also all the articles found on thischild; and I will lay your affidavits before the attorneys for thisestate, and report progress to you later on. "

When Uncle Terry turned his face towards home his pocket was lighter bytwo hundred dollars. With most of us when we take an uncertain step, thefarther we get from it the more sure we become that it was an unwiseone, and it was so with Uncle Terry. 

"I s'posed I'd git skinned, " he muttered to himself after he was well onhis way home, "an' I reckon I have! That dum thief, like all the rest o'lawyers, knows a farmer at sight, an' when he ketches one he takes hishay! He's taken mine fur sartin an' I begin to think I'm a consarned oldfool, that don't know 'nuff to go in when it rains! How I'm goin' togit the wimmin to give up them trinkets, 'thout 'lowin' I've lost mysenses, is one too many fur me!"

CHAPTER XV

THE VALUE OF GOOD EXAMPLE

It has been well said that we grow to be like our nearest neighbors, andthe effect of Albert Page's vigorous efforts to attain success was notlost upon his friend Frank. 

After their Christmas visit to Sandgate Albert had applied himselfdiligently to the care of Mr. Nason's legal needs. This brought him intocontact with other business men and the fact that John Nason employedhim easily secured for him other clients. In two months he not only hadMr. Nason's affairs to look after, but all his remaining time was takenup by others'. He had spent several evenings at the Nasons' home, andfound the family a much more agreeable one than Frank had led him toexpect. Both that young man's sisters were bright and agreeable youngladies, and though a little affected, they treated him with charmingcourtesy and extended to him a cordial invitation to have his sistermake them a visit. A good-looking, well-educated, and well-behaved youngman, no matter if he is poor, will find favor wherever he goes, andAlbert was no exception. 

Since the day he had shaken his fist at the closed door of Mr. Frye'slaw office he had met that hawk-nosed lawyer twice and received only achilling bow. The memory of that contemptible contract he had tacitlyallowed Frye to consider as made brought a blush to his face every timehe thought of it, but he kept his own counsel. Once or twice he had beenon the point of telling Frank the whole story, but had refrained, feeling it would do no good, and might cause trouble. He was a thoroughbeliever in the truism that if you give a calf rope enough, he will hanghimself, and a rascal time, he will get caught. 

In his intimate relations with John Nason he saw enough to satisfyhimself that Frye's insinuation against that busy man's character wasentirely false. Mr. Nason seldom spent an evening away from his home, and when he did, it was to attend the theatre with his family. 

After their visit to Sandgate Frank and himself naturally drifted intomore intimate relations, and a day seldom passed that Frank did not stepinto his office for a chat. 

"Don't mind me, Bert, " that uneasy man would say when he saw that Pagewas busy, "and if you don't want me to talk any time, tell me to shutup. I shan't feel offended. The fact is, I don't know what to do withmyself. If it were only summer I'd go off on the 'Gypsy, ' even if I hadto go alone. "

One evening at the club he made Albert a rather surprising proposition. Albert, who seldom entered into any card games, and only occasionallyplayed pool or billiards, was in the reading-room as usual enjoying acigar and the evening "Journal" when Frank drew up a chair and sat down. They were alone, and as Page laid his paper aside to chat with Frank, whom he really liked very much, despite the fact that that young manbothered him a good deal, Frank said:

"Do you know, I am getting absolutely tired and sick of doing nothing. Ever since I left college I've been an idler, and I can't say I'menjoying it. I arise in the morning and wonder how I can manage to getthrough the day. I read the papers, go down to the store, up to theclub, down to your office, back to the club to lunch, and maybe playpool for an hour or two with some poor devil as lonesome as I am, or goto the matinee, and in the evening only do I begin to enjoy myself alittle. I am beginning to realize that a life of idleness is a beastlybore, and I am sick of it. I want you to let me come into your officeand study law; will you?"

Albert looked at him a moment, while an amused smile crept over hisface. 

"Do you know what that means?" he responded at last. "Do you know thatto read law means two years, perhaps, of close application andperseverance? In my case I had the spur of necessity to urge me on andeven with that stimulus it was a dry, hard grind. With you, who have allthe money you need and are likely to, it will be much worse. I respectyour feeling and I admire your determination very much, and, of course, do not wish to discourage you. You are more than welcome to my officeand law books, and I will gladly help you all I can, " and then after amoment's reflection he added, "I believe it's a wise step, and I'll bevery glad to have you with me. You can help me out in a good many waysalso that will advance you even faster than steady reading. "

He was surprised at the look of pleasure that came into Frank's face. 

"I had half expected you would try to discourage me, " said he, "and it'svery kind of you to promise to help me. "

"Why shouldn't I?" answered Page. "I owe you a good deal more than that, my dear boy, and when you have been admitted we will go into apartnership if you want to do it. "

"Here's my hand on it, " said Frank, rising, "and I mean it, too, and ifyou will have patience with me I'll stick it out or own up I'm no goodin this world. " He seemed overjoyed and for two hours they sat andtalked it over. "When may I begin?" he said finally. "I want to go at itright away. "

"To-morrow morning at nine o'clock sharp, " replied Albert, smiling, "andI warn you I shall keep you grinding eight full hours, six days a week, and no let-up until July first. But tell me, when did this sensible andeminently laudable idea enter your head?"

"Well, to be exact, it came to me in the parlor of your house inSandgate, just at dark, the last evening I was there, and a remark yoursister made to me was the cause of it. "

A droll smile crept over Albert's face at this frank admission, but hemade no reply, and as he scanned his friend's face, now turned slightlyaway from him, and recalled that last evening at home, and how Alice hadso persistently devoted herself to the entertainment of this young man, a revelation came to him. 

"So it's that heart-breaker's blue eyes that have begun to work mischiefin Frank's feelings, is it?" he said to himself, after he had left theclub, and he almost laughed aloud at the thought. "Sis has some ratherpronounced ideas about idleness, and maybe she has read my young frienda lesson in a few words. She is capable of it!"

When Frank, true to his promise, came to the office next morning, Albertset him to work and made sure to give him all possible encouragement. 

"I think far more of you, Frank, " he said earnestly, "for this goodresolve, and when you get fairly into it and begin to take an interestyou will be glad you took hold. I believe every one in this world ishappier and healthier for having an occupation, and certainly you willbe. "

It must be recorded that Frank showed a persevering spirit as the weekswent by, and he became, as Page predicted, thoroughly interested, and anearnest student. In a way, too, he was a help to Albert, for he couldcall on him any time to find some references or some decision bearing ona case in hand. It was soon after Frank's new departure in life thatAlice received a letter from her brother, and among other things hewrote:

"What was it you said to Frank the last evening of our visit at home? Hehas decided to study law in my office and admits his sensible resolutionto do so was the result of a remark you made then. Knowing what a finevein of sarcasm you are blessed with (as well as bewitching ways), I amcurious to know what sort of an arrow you drew from your quiver thatevening. "

But Albert was not adroit enough to obtain a confession from hiskeen-witted sister, and thereby be enabled to joke her a little aboutit, for she never replied to his question. 

CHAPTER XVI

SWEET ALICE

 "Oh, don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt? Sweet Alice whose hair was so brown, Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile, And trembled with fear at your frown?" _Old Song. _

Every person we meet in life makes an impression on us, varying from thefaintest shadow that soon vanishes to a vivid one that lasts as long asmemory. 

[Illustration: ALICE]

Alice Page's first impression of Frank Nason did not do him justice. Shethought him a big, good-natured, polite boy, rather conscious that hewas likely to be sought after, and disposed to sulk if he wasn't. Hisplea for sympathy on the score that his life of idleness was a bore, which he made the day they went sleighing, only provoked her derision, and as she was disposed to judge all men by the standard of herself-reliant brother, he came near awakening contempt on her part. Itwas not until the last evening of his visit that she discovered hermistake and realized that he had more depth of character than she hadthought. It is likely the keen enjoyment which he seemed to feel whenshe sang for him had weight, for we are prone to like those who like us, and it was natural also that she should feel a little gratitude for whathe had done for her brother. 

Her life, hidden away as she was in a by-way corner of a country town, and seeing no one all the week except her small band of pupils, gave herplenty of time for thought, and there was no young man in the villagewhose company she would tolerate if she could help it. Once a week, usually on Saturday, she received a letter from her brother, and that, together with the mild excitement of Sunday church-going, was all thatbroke the monotony of her life. 

A week after the Christmas visit she received a package containing a newbook, three of the latest popular songs, and a box of candy, and pinnedto the candy Frank Nason's card, on the back of which was written: "Forthe girl who wanted to kiss her teacher. "

She wrote a polite note of thanks, and then, feeling that she would soonbe forgotten by him, and not caring much whether she was or not, settleddown to the unvarying round of her daily life. It was mid-winter, andtwo weeks after her brother wrote that Frank had begun studying law inhis office, when she received a letter from that young man thatsurprised her. He wrote:

 MY DEAR MISS PAGE: I trust you will pardon me for intruding myself upon you, but I wish you to know that a few pointed words spoken by you while I was enjoying your hospitality have not been forgotten, and have influenced me to make an effort to be something better than an idler in the world. Your brother kindly consented to let me read law in his office, and I am now hard at it. I do not imagine this will interest you, but I felt that you had scant respect for useless people, and as you could rightly so regard me, I wanted you to know that I am capable of rising above my aimless life. 

 I have recalled so many times all the little incidents of my visit to your home, and lived over those evenings graced by your presence, and lit by a cheerful fire, time and again. Do not think me insincere when I assure you they were the most delightful ones I ever passed. If you find time to write a line to one who is now a worker in the hive instead of a drone, it will be gratefully received by me. 

To a girl with Alice Page's sympathetic nature and tender feelings, words like these made her feel she was what she most enjoyed being--aninspiration and help to others. In this respect Frank Nason had read herbetter than she had read him, or else some fortunate intuition had ledhim aright. She answered the letter at once, thanking him for hisflattering words, but forbidding him to use any more of them. 

"I do not like flattery, " she wrote, "because no one ever can feel quitesure it is sincere. I will answer all your letters if you will promisenot to tell Bert we are corresponding. Not that I am ashamed of it byany means, but he is inclined to tease me and I love him so dearly Ican't bear to have him do so. The little girl you sent the candy to wasboth astonished and grateful. I did not tell her who sent it, for thefact would have been all over town in a week if I had, and I do not liketo be gossiped about. I merely told her a good fairy had sent it, whichwas better. "

Once a week thereafter Alice received a long letter from Frank and asregularly answered it. It is needless to say that she soon began toanticipate them and that they added much to her monotonous life. Frankwisely refrained from any expression of love, though Alice felt sure hewas likely to make such expression in person if ever he had anopportunity to do so. No woman, much less a keenly sensitive young womanlike her, is ever long in doubt as to a man's feelings, and Alice Page, whose heart had never felt a stronger emotion than love for her brother, knew the moment she read her admirer's first letter that itswell-considered words were really inspired by Cupid. More than that, shefelt sure that his commendable efforts to become a useful professionalman, instead of a badly bored idler, were due to the hope that theeffort would find favor in her eyes. In all these surmises it isneedless to say her feminine intuition was quite correct. 

That her brother also surmised the truth is quite likely, though hewisely kept these thoughts to himself for good and sufficient reasons. 

"Frank is getting along nicely, " he wrote Alice, in the early spring; "Ibelieve he has the making of a capable lawyer in him. He grinds awayharder than I ever did when reading law, and has never yet complained ofhow dry and dull it all is. He is a big, warm-hearted fellow, too, and Iam growing more fond of him every day. He is more devoted to me than abrother, and we have made a lot of plans for a month's outing on the'Gypsy' this coming summer. I like his family very much, and Mrs. Nasonand both her daughters have invited me to bring you down when yourschool closes to make them a visit. I think I shall run up in June, andstay over Sunday, and bring Frank with me. I imagine he would like tocome, for once in a while I overhear him humming 'Ben Bolt. '"

"A very nicely worded little plot; but don't you imagine, my dear Bert, I do not see through it!" was the mental comment of Alice when she readthe letter. "The young gentleman has bravely set to work to become a maninstead of a cipher; my brother likes him; he whistles 'Ben Bolt;' mybrother is to bring him up here again; I am expected to fall in lovewith Mr. Cipher that was, and help him spend his money, and I am to bebarely tolerated by mamma and both sisters! A most charming plot, surely, but it takes two to make a bargain. I think I know just the sortof people mamma and sisters are. He told me she read him a lecture everytime he danced twice with a poor girl, and now I am expected to walkinto the same trap, and cringe to her ladyship, for the sin of beingpoor. I guess not! I'll teach school till I die first, and he can thinkof me as having a 'slab of granite so gray' to keep me in place. "

But this diplomatic "Sweet Alice" wrote to her brother: "I am delightedthat you are coming up, for I am so lonesome, and the weeks drag sohard! Bring your friend up, by all means, and I'll sing 'Ben Bolt' untilhe hates the name of Sweet Alice. The country will be looking finelythen, and he can go over to the cemetery, and select the corner I am tooccupy. Pardon the joke, and don't tell him I uttered it. "

To Frank she wrote: "Be sure to come up with Bert. I will sing all theold songs, and the new ones you have sent me, as well. If you come upon a Thursday you may visit my school Friday afternoon, if you willbehave, and then you can see the girl you sent the candy to. She wears acalico pinafore, and comes to school barefooted. "

Consistency, thy name is woman!

From all this it may be inferred that Alice was just a littlecoquettish, and that verdict is no doubt true. Like all her charming sexwho are blessed with youth and beauty, she was perfectly conscious ofit, and quite willing to exert its magic power on a susceptible youngman with dark curly hair and earnest brown eyes. Neither was sheimpervious to the fact that this said young man was a possible heir toplenty of money. She never had much lavished on her, and, while nothaving suffered for the necessaries of life, she had had to deny herselfall luxuries, and, most vexatious denial of all, a new gown and hat manytimes when she needed them. Her tactful reply to her brother's letter, coupled with his own sincere affection for her, brought her a responseby return mail in the form of a check for one hundred dollars, withexplicit orders to spend every cent of it before he came. 

Whether she did or not we will leave to the imagination of all youngladies so situated. 

CHAPTER XVII

A BY-WAY SCHOOLHOUSE

Sandgate was just budding forth in a new suit of green, the meadowsdotted with white and yellow daisies, and here and there a bunch oftiger lilies waved in the breeze, when one Friday afternoon the teacherat the north district school heard a knock. 

The class in reading, then in evidence, were halted in their sing-songof concert utterance and Alice Page opened the door to find two stalwartyoung men standing there. With a quick impulse of propriety she steppedout and closed the door behind her, only to find herself clasped in abig brother's arms and to receive a smack that was heard by every pupilin the little schoolroom. With a very red face she freed herself andthen presented a small hand to the other young man with the remark:

"I think you are both just as mean as you can be to surprise me in thisway!"

Her eyes told a different tale, however, and when explanations were dulymade, the two visitors were invited inside and given seats. The classin reading was then dismissed and that in spelling called to what wasnow seemingly to them an unexpected misery. A bombshell, or a ghost atthe window, would not have produced any more consternation than thosetwo strange visitors. This class, that one by one filed up in front ofthe teacher's desk, and ranged themselves in line, stood trembling, andthe boy at the head, to whom was put the first word, was unable to uttera sound. The next one spelled it wrong, and it was tried by two othersand finally spelled right by a girl who could hardly do better thanwhisper it. She was told to go to the head, and after that the rest didbetter. The search for knowledge in that school had received a set-back, however, for that day, and Alice decided to do the wisest thing anddismiss her band of pupils without delay. When the room was cleared ofthem she turned to her two callers and said with mock seriousness: "Thefirst class in deportment will now define propriety. "

"Propriety is--is--Propriety, " replied her brother, "consists in twoyoung men surprising one small and very saucy schoolma'am and letting alot of imprisoned boys and girls escape to the woods and enjoy an extrahour of freedom. "

"Not right, " said Alice severely; "the next pupil will now answer. "

"Propriety, " answered Frank, "consists in two young men escaping fromthe city and relieving one tired school-teacher from her duty andpermitting her to go and gather flowers if she will. But which was thegirl you told the fairy tale to, Miss Page?" he added, as Alice beganputting her books away. 

"The only one in the spelling-class you two bold bad men didn't scarehalf out of her wits, " she answered. 

Frank walked about the room, peering curiously at its rather primitivefittings. Around three sides extended a breast-high shelf, carved andcut by many a jack-knife, and beneath it a narrower one where books andslates were stowed. In front were rows of backless benches for seats, and in the centre of the room an open stove shaped like a fireplace. Around this were three long, low seats with backs, and on the sideswhere the door was, a desk stood on a low platform. Back of this a largeblackboard formed part of the wall, one end covered by themultiplication tables. No part of the room was plastered, and overheadthe bare brown stringers held extra benches kept there for use onexamination days. 

"So this is what you call a temple of learning, " he remarked, as hesurveyed the barn-like room; "it is a curiosity to me, and the firsttime I was ever in an old-time country schoolhouse. I should like topeep through one of the knot-holes some day, and watch the performances, and hear a scared boy speak a piece. "

"You had better not try it, " answered Alice, "unless you want two orthree farmers to swoop down on you, armed with scythes, and demanding toknow what you are doing there. "

When she had locked the schoolhouse door they got into the carriage thetwo young men had come in, and left the forlorn little temple to thesolitude of the trees and bushes that almost hid it from sight. 

"I will stop in the village, " said Albert, as they drove away, "andleave you two to go home or take a ride, as suits you best; only mind, be home by tea-time, for I shall be hungry. "

There is no time when a drive along wooded country roads is morecharming than when the trees are fast growing green, and the meadowsspangled with daisies and buttercups. 

"Let's go around by the mill-pond, " said Alice, after leaving herbrother in the village; "that's where we went skating last Christmas, and the road to it follows the brook up a mile. We may find a fewlilies in the pond. "

The brook beside which they were soon walking the horse was a charmingbit of scenery as it came leaping over mossy ledges, laughing, chattering, and filling the pools with foam flecks, and the old mill, with its great wheel dripping and clattering, and the mill itself, proved even a greater curiosity to Frank than the schoolhouse. Hehitched the horse, and helping his fair companion to alight, the twowent inside the mill and watched the rumbling wheels. Alice introducedher escort to the miller, and after they had been shown the mysteries ofgrinding he invited them out to the pond, and after bailing the oldleaky boat so it was usable, the two visitors started after the lilies. 

"Mind you don't tip me over, " said Alice. "I can't swim. "

"If I do I'll rescue you or drown with you, " he answered gallantly. Whatsilly nothings these two young people uttered as they made the circuitof that long wood-bordered mill-pond need not be recorded. One at leastwas just tasting the first sweet illusion of love, and the glassysurface of the water that reflected the trees bending over it, thebunches of water flag growing here and there, and the scattered patchesof broad lily pads with now and then a white blossom, made a mostpicturesque background for the girl who sat in the stern. Her piquantface, shaded by a broad sun-hat, was fairer to his eyes than any of thelilies she plucked, and as she drew one sleeve up a little to reach forthem, the round arm and dimpled hand she thrust into the water lookedtempting enough to kiss. The miller had shut the gate and gone home whenthey returned to the mill, and when Alice, with both her wet hands fullof lilies, was helped into the carriage, Frank said: "I am sorry thatdusty old miller has gone. I wanted to give him five dollars for hiskindness. "

"He would think you insane if you did, " answered Alice. 

"Many a man has lost his wits with less provocation, " replied Frankpointedly, "and I feel indebted to him for his help to one of the mostcharming hours I ever passed. "

"That is all right, " responded Alice; "he has known me ever since I wasa little tot in short dresses and rode to mill with father. He would domore for me than bail his boat out. "

"Do you know, " remarked Frank, when they had left the mill behind andwere driving through a bit of woods, "that I have anticipated this visitfor weeks? I know scarcely anything about the country and it is all arevelation to me. I've seen pictures of old mills and ponds covered withlilies, but no painter can ever put the reality on canvas. Why, thatgreat wheel covered with moss and churning away all day, so steadily, with a willow bending over it, is a poem in itself!"

"The mill was built over a hundred years ago, " observed Alice, "and hasbeen grinding away ever since. I love to visit it, for it takes me backto childhood and, " she added a little sadly, "it makes me live over thehappiest days of my life, when father used to take me with himeverywhere he went. "

"'But the mill will never grind with the water that has passed, '" quotedFrank, "'and the tender grace of a day that is dead will never come backagain, 'tis said. ' I wish I had been country born. I think I've missedcountless pages of pleasant memories. Do you know, " he added, turning tohis companion, "I am rapidly falling in love with the country and--andits pretty sights?"

It was in his heart to say "you" as he saw the half-pathetic expressionon his companion's face and noted the sad droop of her sweet mouth, buthis courage failed him. 

He was enough in love with her already to begin to feel afraid of her. "I must bide my time, " he thought; "she is not to be won easily, and aword too soon may spoil all. "

"Whose idea was it to pounce upon me that way at school?" exclaimedAlice suddenly, throwing off her retrospective mood and smiling again. "Was it yours or Bert's?"

"I confess I did it with my little hatchet, " answered Frank; "I coaxedBert to do it. We had to take the train at five o'clock in the morningand have coffee and rolls at the station for breakfast and pie andsandwiches for dinner. "

"And all to surprise one poor little schoolma'am and break up herschool, " put in Alice; "was it worth all that annoyance?"

"Up to the present moment, " answered Frank, "I must honestly say it was. This drive and the mill I consider cheap at any price. "

"I don't mean this part of the surprise, " said Alice, blushing a littleat his open admiration, "and you know it. " And then in self-defence sheadded, "What has become of the 'Gypsy'? Bert writes me that you two areplanning trips in her already. "

"She is still in winter quarters, " answered Frank. "I've been too busystudying law to do more than think of her. I've reformed, you know. "

Alice made no reply. The memory of what he had so evidently wished herto infer regarding his reasons for this new departure came to her in aninstant and brought a little wonderment as to the possible outcome ofit. Turn which way she would, and propose what topic she might, heseemed bound to use it as a vehicle of his undisguised admiration. Shehad wished to consider him as a friend, because he had been a friend toher adored brother when that brother needed one, and while she hadwritten him a dozen chatty letters which might be printed for all theprivacy they contained, she had studiously refrained from allowing himto infer, even, that she had any special interest in his actions. Thathe came to woo her, he was plainly allowing her to infer by every wordand look, and she had feminine wit enough to see that it was earnestwooing, and not the simulated article usually designated as gallantry. 

"I must avoid giving him opportunities, " she said to herself, "or hewill make some rash declaration and spoil our pleasant acquaintance. "

When they arrived home Albert was on the piazza and Aunt Susan hadsupper waiting. The table was set with blue ware of a very old andquaint pattern, and when Alice had filled a bowl with lilies for acentrepiece they gathered around and "passed things" in true countryfashion. The evening was unusually warm for June, and after the twoyoung men had smoked and chatted for half an hour, Alice appeareddressed in spotless white, with a half-open lily in her hair and anotherat her throat. The moon, which was nearing its full, shone through theopen spaces of the vine-clad porch and added an ethereal touch to thesylph-like picture she presented, and one that was certainly not lostupon Frank at least. 

"Well, " she remarked cheerfully, as she seated herself near her brother, "my time is yours, and what can I do to entertain you?"

"I had planned to take Frank to a trout brook to-morrow morning, "responded Albert, "and in the afternoon you and he can hunt formill-ponds and grottoes if you like, or gather laurel. "

"And leave me alone all the forenoon!" put in Alice. "No, thank you. I'mshut up for five days and you can't get rid of me so easily. Why can't Igo too?"

"I'm agreeable, " replied her brother, "only a trout brook is not nicewalking for a lady. "

"I'm aware of that, " she responded, "and you two can go fishing and I'llhunt for laurel in the meantime. We can take a basket of lunch with usand make a day of it in the woods. " Then, as a possible contingencypresented itself to her, she added, "Why not let me invite my friend, Abby Miles, to go for company? She and I can pick laurel, and when youhave caught all the harmless little trout you want, we can meet where weleave the wagon and have a picnic. "

"That suits me, " said her brother, and without waiting for furtherdiscussion this diplomatic fairy in white arose and remarked, "I'll geta shawl, and then I'll trouble you, Mr. Nason, to escort me over toAbby's. It's only a few rods, and I want you to meet her. She's ever sonice. "

From this it may be inferred that our "Sweet Alice" had resolved toprotect herself against any romantic _tête-à-têtes_ in the woods with acertain well-intentioned but presuming young man who might desire toplay Romeo. 

This was not quite to his taste, but he had the good sense not to showit, and all the next day he divided his attentions impartially betweenthe two young ladies. The plan as mapped by Alice was carried out to theletter, and when the two young men joined the girls at noon they found abroad flat rock in the woods had been covered with a tablecloth andspread with a tempting meal. The girls had gathered great bunches ofthat beautiful flower pink laurel, and a cluster of it decked thetable. After dinner our imperious Alice insisted that they visit themill-pond once more, and when they returned at night, with two basketsof trout, and laurel and pond lilies enough to stock a flower stand, theday was voted an eminent success. 

Frank made one error, however, for just before they left the mill heslipped away unobserved, and finding the miller, put a bit of paper intohis hand with the remark, "Keep this to pay for the boat, " and left himhurriedly. When the old man made examination he found he had afive-dollar bill. To surprises of this kind he was not accustomed, andbefore noon the next day there wasn't a man, woman, or child in Sandgatewho had not heard of it. 

CHAPTER XVIII

VILLAGE GOSSIP

 "What care I what the world may say, So long as I have my way to-day?-- For this dear old world, This queer old world, With tongue like sands of the sea, Is never so gay As when wagging away, And talking of you and of me. "

That evening Frank begged for music, and Alice sung for two long hours. At least they might have seemed long to any but an enraptured young manwho had for the entire day been kept from uttering one of the manylove-lorn words that filled his heart. Albert, who had been informed byAlice that if he deserted her for a single moment that evening or thenext he need never bring his friend there again, sat outside on theporch and close by the window, smoking incessantly and smiling tohimself at the clever tactics of his charming but coy sister. When theconcert was ended he observed, "If there's one song in the house thatyou have not sung, Alice, I wish you would sing it. I hate to have youomit any. "

"I have only sung what I was asked to, " she replied; "is not that so, Mr. Nason?"

"That is true, " replied he boldly, "and you have not sung one that Iwouldn't enjoy hearing again to-night. "

"Oh, I have enjoyed them all, " said Albert, "only I thought you mighthave missed one, and as Frank remarked coming home that he was hungryfor music, I wanted him satisfied. "

The next day, as usual, they attended church, only this time all threewalked back together, although Albert felt that he was one too many, andall the afternoon and evening it was the same. But Alice wasgraciousness personified. All her jokes and smiles and all herconversation were lavished upon Frank. It may be that she wished to makeamends for the opportunities she knew he was anxious to obtain but couldnot, for the most charming of women have a little of the feline instinctin their nature, and whether there is any response to a man's wooing intheir hearts or not, they love to enjoy their power. Several timesFrank, who intuitively felt she did not wish to be left alone with him, started to ask her to take a walk that Sunday evening, but each time hisdiscretion prevailed. "If she is willing to listen to any love-making, she has tact enough to give me a chance, " he thought, "and unless sheis, I'd better keep still. " Which would show he had at least a faintinkling of woman's ways. The evening was one to tempt Cupid, for themoonlight fell checkered through the half-naked elms along the roadway, and where here and there a group of maples stood was a bit of shadow. The whippoorwills had just returned to Sandgate, and over the meadowsscattered fireflies twinkled. The houses along the way to the villagewere wide apart and the evening air just right for a loitering walk. ToFrank, anxious to say a few words that would further his hopes in thedirection of this bewitching girl, it seemed a waste of good time not totake advantage of the evening. It was almost past, and the lights in thehouses across the valley had long since vanished when he obtained alittle consolation. 

The charm of the evening had stilled conversation and no one had spokenfor a long time when he said, rather disconsolately, "My anticipatedvisit is almost over. May I ask you to go in and sing just one song forme, Miss Page?"

"With pleasure, " she responded in her sweetest tone, "what shall it be?"

"I will leave that to your selection, " he replied. 

Without a word she led the way in and began searching among the pile ofmusic on the piano, and finding what she wanted, opened and spread themusic on the rack. 

It was "Ben Bolt. "

She sang it in a minor key, and as the opening words, "Oh, don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt, "

floated out on the still evening air, they seemed to him fraught with anew meaning and that a veritable sweet Alice was bidding him, anotherBen Bolt, not to forget her. When the last note had faded into the nightair, she turned her now serious eyes toward him and said:

"Did I guess right?"

How much he longed to take that fair girl in his arms then and there andask her to be his own sweet Alice need not be specified. For a momenther tender blue eyes met his brown ones, and then they fell. 

"I am glad I did not make a mistake, " she said softly. 

"I thank you, " he almost whispered, "and there won't be many wakingmoments in my future when I shall not think of--sweet Alice!"

It was not much of a love scene, but to him it seemed a wide-open doorof hope, and when many miles separated them, and for days, weeks, andmonths afterward, even when doing his best to crowd dull law reportsinto his brain, the one tender glance she gave him and the tones of hervoice came back with unfailing accuracy. 

There is no spot where every one knows everybody else's business anddiscusses it that is quite equal in this way to a small country town, and Sandgate was no exception. The first visit of Frank Nason to thePage home, his sleigh-rides with Alice, and his appearance at church hadcaused no end of comment. It was known that he had been a classmate ofAlbert's and came from Boston, and later Aunt Susan vouch-safed theinformation that she "guessed he came from one o' the first families andthat he appeared right well behaved. "

It was all she really did know, for both Alice and her brother wereconsiderate of her failings and knew it was not safe to discuss theirvisitor in her presence. The tempest of gossip had not more than halfquieted down when it received a regular boom from his second coming. Thepupils of the north end district school spread the news of theirteacher's unexpected callers; that they heard her kiss one, and whichone they did not know; and that she had dismissed school at once andgone on with the stranger. Old Amos Curtis, the miller, told of theirvisit, and, wonder upon wonder, how the next day "her beau" had givenhim a five-dollar bill "jest fer lettin' 'em use a leaky old boat fer anhour. "

The buxom Abby Miles had the best and longest story to tell, and herpraise of Mr. Nason, how polite he was, and "how he couldn't keep hiseyes off'n Alice all the afternoon, " was whispered to every girl sheknew. The five-dollar incident created the most gossip, however. Themiller had remarked that a "young feller who threw money 'round that waymust be rich, " and that remark soon grew into a story that Alice Page'sbeau was worth a million, and that she was engaged to him. 

As might be expected, the subject of all this gossip heard none of ituntil the storm had reached alarming proportions. Some of the villageswains who had tried to pay court to her and failed were inclined tosneer at the "smart young man from the city" who had cut them out; butthe older people and the girls were disposed to congratulate her uponwhat they considered her good luck. It was this inclination that ledMrs. Mears to be the first one to tell the extent of the gossip. 

"They tell me, " said that worthy matron to Alice one Sunday, afterchurch, "that you ain't likely to teach school after this summer. "

"And why not?" answered Alice, conscious that she was likely to hear achoice bit of gossip; "don't I give satisfaction?"

"Oh, 'tain't that, " was the answer; "I guess you can imagine the reasonand I want to be the first to congratulate you. They tell me he's wortha pile o' money, an' he's sartinly well favored, so far as looks goes, but then, 'handsome is as handsome does' was allus my motto. "

Alice colored. 

"Do you mean Mr. Nason, my brother's friend?" she said nervously. 

"Why, who else would I mean?" responded Mrs. Mears. "I've heard that youwas to be married this fall, and that he is worth a million. They say hetold Amos Curtis he was, though I don't believe that, but anyway, Amossays he gave him five dollars 'jest fer usin' his old boat that wa'n'tworth splittin' up for kindlin's!'"

It was all out now, and in a moment Alice saw through the whole storyand up to its source. For one instant she felt as if the entire townwas staring at her, and grew correspondingly red. It was unfortunate, for several besides Mrs. Mears were observing her and drew their ownconclusions. As for the worthy gossiper who had enlightened Alice, theblush she saw rise on her cheeks and spread until it glowed all over herface and throat was confirmation enough. 

"It's not true, not one word of it, " exclaimed Alice angrily, "and ifyou care for me one bit, I wish you would tell everybody I said so. "

She waited to hear no more, nor for Aunt Susan, who had lingered to chatwith some one, but walked home alone and hurriedly, as if to hideherself. Once in the silent house, she began to cool off. 

"I won't believe he told Amos he was worth a million, " she said toherself, --"he isn't so stupid as that; but I am afraid the silly boy didgive him five dollars, which has started all this gossip. "

When Aunt Susan came in she fairly pounced upon her. "Why haven't youtold me, auntie, about all this gossip that's going the rounds regardingMr. Nason and myself? I know you have heard it. "

"It's all nonsense, Alice, " answered that lady rather sharply, "and youare foolish to listen to 'em. I've heard it, of course, but so long asit's no discredit to you, why, let it go into one ear and out t'other, same as I do! Folks must talk in this town, an' what they're sayin''bout you ought to make you feel proud--that a young fellow like him, and worth money, wanted to come courtin', an' he certainly showed hedid, or I'm no judge. "

It was homely advice, and from the standpoint of Aunt Susan, as well asmost of the world-wise matrons of Sandgate, it was good advice. 

"He's got Aunt Susan on his side as well as Bert, " Alice thought, "and Iam glad I kept him at a distance now, just to pay him for being so sillywith his money. "

Late that afternoon Alice called upon Abby Miles, and talked abouteverything except the subject she most wanted to talk about, and then, as Abby usually had a Sunday evening caller, Alice came home at dusk. Never before had the house seemed so lonesome, and as she sat on theporch and tried to talk with Aunt Susan her thoughts were elsewhere. 

When the lights across the valley, which served as curfew by sayingbed-time when they went out, had disappeared, she came in, and seatingherself in the dark at the piano softly played the chords and hummed thewords of a song which need not be mentioned. 

"It'll come out all right, " said Aunt Susan to herself, and she waitedtill Alice called to her to come in and go to bed. 

CHAPTER XIX

PLOTS AND PLANS

"The best laid schemes o' mice and men, " etc. , proved itself true inFrank Nason's case. He had consoled himself during the many months ofhard study with visions of a yachting-trip in July and August, whenperhaps in some manner Alice Page could be induced to come, with hismother and sisters to chaperone her, and her brother and some otherfriends to complete the party. 

He had the "Gypsy" put in first-class shape and all her state-roomsrefurnished, and one in particular, which he intended Alice shouldoccupy, upholstered in blue. So well formed were his plans that he timedthe start so as to utilize the July moon for the first ten days, andmapped out a trip taking in all the Maine coast, spending a week at BarHarbor and then a run up as far east as Annapolis Bay and the coast ofAcadia. 

He had described all the charms of this trip to Alice and extended toher the most urgent invitation. He had obtained her brother's promise tosupplement it and also to make one of the party, and he had persuadedhis sister Blanch to aid him with his mother, but he had metdiscouragement on all sides. In the first place, Alice wrote it wasdoubtful if she could go. It would be a delightful outing, and one shewould enjoy, but it would not be right to leave Aunt Susan alone for solong, and then as her school did not close until the last of June, shewould have no time to get ready. These were not the sole reasons for herreluctance, and in fact she made no mention of what was her principalreason. He did not understand that Alice Page was too proud-spirited toappear willing to put herself in his way and accept an invitation havingfor its ultimate object the giving of an opportunity to him to courther. Then to accept his family's protectorship and hospitality for thatsame end was even more obnoxious. With true feminine discretion she didnot dare confide this reason to her brother, and perhaps it was wise shedid not. 

To cap the climax of Frank's discomfiture, when July came his motherannounced that she had decided to go to the mountains for the summer, and then he saw his nicely laid plans were to be an utter failure. 

"It's no use, Bert, " he said to his friend one evening, "I wanted yoursister to go to Maine with us, and mother and the girls and a few moreto make a party, but it's no go. I can't induce your sister to join us, and it's no use if she would, for mother has determined to go toBethlehem, and that settles it. I feel like going out and getting full. If you and I have any outing on the yacht, we must make up a ganderparty. "

"That suits me just as well as, and in fact better than, the otherplan, " replied Albert consolingly. "If we have a lot of ladies along wemust dance attendance upon them, and if not we can fish, smoke, playcards, sing, or go to sleep when we feel like it. I tell you, Frank, " hecontinued, evidently desiring to cheer up that young man, "girls are allright as companions at home or at balls and theatres, but on a yachtthey are in the way. Not only are they liable to seasickness, but atevery bit of rough water they will get scared and make no end oftrouble. "

It was very good philosophy and to a certain extent true, although itdid not agree with Frank's feelings, but then it must be remembered thathe was suffering from the pangs of love, while his mentor was not. 

A week afterward, and early one bright morning, the "Gypsy, " withskipper, crew, and a party of eight jolly young men on board, sailed outof Boston and that night dropped anchor under the lee of an island inCasco Bay. She remained there one full day and the next ran to Boothbayand found shelter in a landlocked cove forming part of the coast line ofSouthport Island. It was after dinner next day, and while the rest ofthe party were either playing cards or napping in hammocks under theawning, that Albert Page took one of the boats, his pipe, and sketchbook, and rowed down the coast a mile to an inlet he had noticed the daybefore. The outer point of this was formed by a bold cliff that hedesired to sketch, and pulling the boat well up behind the inner point, tying the painter to a rock and taking the cushions along, he found ashady spot and sat down. The sloping rock he selected for a seat was alittle damp, but he thought nothing of it, and lighting his pipe begansketching. He worked for an hour, putting the weed-draped rocks and longswells that broke over them into his book, and then, lulled perhaps bythe monotonous rhythm of the ocean, lay back on the cushions and fellasleep. The next he knew he was awakened by a cold sensation and foundthe tide had risen until it wet his feet. Hastily getting up, he tookthe cushions and returned to where he had left the boat, only to find ithad disappeared. The rising tide had lifted the boat and painter fromthe rocks, and it was nowhere to be seen. 

"There must be some road back up on the island, " he thought, "that willlead me near the cove where the 'Gypsy' is, " and still retaining thecushions, he started to find it. But he was a stranger to SouthportIsland and the farther away from the sea he got, the thicker grew thetangle of scrub spruce and briers. It was too thick to see anywhere, andafter a half hour of desperate scrambling, the afternoon sun began toseem about due east! He had long since dropped the cushions, andfinally, in sheer exhaustion, sat down on a rock to collect himself. "Itlooks as though I'm billed to stay here all night, " he thought, as henoted the lowering sun, "and nobody knows how much longer! There must bea road somewhere, though, and I'm going to find it if the light lastslong enough. " He started once more and had not gone ten rods ere he cameto one, and then he breathed easier. His clothes were torn, his handsand face scratched by briers, and to save himself he couldn't make itseem but that the sun was setting in the east! He sat down to think. Allsound of the ocean was gone and a stillness that seemed to crawl out ofthe thicket was around him. He rested a few moments more, and thensuddenly heard the sound of wheels and presently saw, coming around thecurve, an old-fashioned carryall, worn and muddy, and, driving the horseat a jog trot, a man as dilapidated-looking as the vehicle. Gladdenedat the sight, he arose, and holding up his hand as a signal, halted theteam. "Excuse me, sir, " he said to the man, who eyed him curiously, "butwill you tell me where I am?"

"Wal, " was the answer in a slow drawl, "ye'r' on Southport Island, and'bout four miles from the jumpin' off place. Whar might ye be goin'? Yelook bushed. "

"I am, " answered Page, "and badly bushed too. I lost my boat over backhere on the shore, and have had a cheerful time among the Mohawk briers. I belong to a yacht that is anchored in a cove of this island, I can'ttell where, and if you will take me to her I'll pay you well. "

The man in the wagon laughed. 

"Say, stranger, " he observed with a chuckle, "you 'mind me o' the fellerthat got full and wandered round for a spell till he fetched up to ahouse, an' sed to the man that cum to the door, 'If you will tell me whoI am, or whar I am, or whar I want ter go, I'll give ye a dollar!'"

Page had to laugh in spite of his plight, for the humorous twinkle inthe old man's eyes as he uttered his joke was infectious. 

"I'd like ter 'commodate ye, " he added, "but as I'm carryin' Uncle Sam'smail, an' must git home an' tend the light, and as ye don't know wharye want ter go, ye best jump in an' go down to Saint's Rest, whar Ilive, an' in the mornin' we'll try an' hunt up yer boat. "

It seemed the only thing to do, and Albert availed himself of thechance. 

"Can you tell the spot where you found me?" he said to the man as theystarted on. "I'd like to go back there to-morrow and find my cushions. "

"Wal, " was the answer, "as I've druv over this road twice a day for nighonto thirty year, I'm tolerable familiar with it. My name's Terry, an'I'm keeper o' the light at the Cape, an' carry the mail to sorter pieceout on. Who might ye be?"

"My name's Page, and I'm from Boston, and a lawyer by profession, "replied Albert. 

Uncle Terry eyed him rather sharply. 

"I wouldn't 'a' took ye fer one o' them dern pickpockets, " he said, "yelook too honest. I ain't much stuck on lawyers, " he added, with achuckle. "I've had 'sperence with 'em. One of 'em sold me a hole in theground onct, an' it cost me the hull o' twenty years' savin's! You'll'scuse me fer bein' blunt--it's my natur. "

"Oh, I don't mind, " responded Albert laughingly; "not all of myprofession are thieves, though some are. You mustn't judge us all byone rascal. "

They drove on, and as they jogged up and down the sharp hills he caughtsight here and there of the ocean, and alongside the road, whichconsisted of two ruts, a path, and two grass-grown ridges, he saw wildroses in endless profusion. On either hand was an interminable thicket. In the little valleys grew masses of rank ferns, and on the ridges, interspersed between the wild roses, clusters of red bunch-berries. Thesun was almost down when they reached the top of a long hill and he sawat its foot a small harbor connected with the ocean by a narrow inlet, and around it a dozen or more brown houses. Beyond was a tangle of rocksand, rising above them, the top of a white lighthouse. Uncle Terry, whohad kept up a running fire of questions all the time, halted the horseand said:

"Ye can now take yer first look at Saint's Rest, otherwise known as theCape. We ketch some lobsters an' fish here an' hev prayer-meetin's oncea week. " Then he chirruped to the horse and they rattled down the hillto a small store where he left a mail pouch, and then followed a windingroad between the scattered houses and out to the point, where stood aneat white dwelling close beside a lighthouse. 

"I'll take ye into the house, " said Uncle Terry as the two alighted, "an' tell the wimmin folks to put on an extra plate, an' then I'll putup the hoss. "

"I'm afraid I'm putting your family to some inconvenience, " respondedAlbert, "and as it is not dark yet, I will walk out on the point. I maysee the yacht and save you all trouble. "

The sun, a ball of fire, was almost at the horizon, the sea all aroundlay an unruffled expanse of dark blue, undulating with the ground swellsthat caught the red glow of the sinking sun as they came in and brokeupon the rocks. Albert walked on to the highest of the shore rocks andlooked about. There was no sign of the "Gypsy, " and only one boat wasvisible, and that a dory rowed by a man standing upright. Over the stillwaters Albert could detect the measured stroke of his oars. That and thelow rumble of the ground swells, breaking almost at his feet, were theonly sounds. It was like a dream of solitude, far removed from the worldand all its distractions. For a few moments he stood contemplating theocean alight with the setting sun's red glow, the gray rocks at his feetand the tall white lighthouse towering above him, and then startedaround the point. He had not taken ten steps when he saw the figure of agirl leaning against a rock and watching the setting sun. One elbow wasresting on the rock, her face reposing in her open hand and fingers halfhid in the thick masses of hair that shone in the sunlight likeburnished gold. A broad sun-hat lay on the rock, and the delicateprofile of her face was sharply outlined against the western sky. 

She had not heard Albert's steps, but stood there unconscious of hisscrutiny. He noted the classic contour of her features; the delicateoval of her lips and chin; and his artist eye dwelt upon and admired herrounded bosom and perfect shoulders. Had she posed for a picture, shecould not have chosen a better position, and so alluring, and withal sosweet and unconscious, that for a moment he forgot all else, even hisown rudeness in standing there and staring at her. Then he recoveredhimself, and turning, softly retraced his steps so as not to disturbher. Who she was he had no idea, and was still wondering, when he metUncle Terry, who at once invited him into the house. 

"This 'ere's Mr. Page, Lissy, " he said, as they entered, and met astout, elderly, and gray-haired woman; "I found him up the road a spell, an' wantin' to know whar he was!"

Albert bowed, and was surprised to see her advance and greet him with acordial handshake. 

"I am sorry to intrude, " he said, "but I had lost my boat, and allpoints of the compass, when your husband kindly took me in charge. "

He started to say he would pay for all trouble, but fortunately did not, and then being offered a chair, sat down and was left alone. For tenminutes, that seemed longer, he surveyed the plainly furnishedsitting-room, with open fireplace, a many colored rag-carpet on thefloor, old-fashioned chairs, and dozens of pictures on the walls. Theycaught his eye at once, mainly because of the oddity of the frames, which were evidently home-made, for it was too dark to see more, andthen a door was opened, and Uncle Terry invited him into a lighted roomwhere a table was set. The elderly lady was standing at one end of it, and beside her a younger one, and as Albert entered he heard Uncle Terrysay: "This is our gal Telly, Mr. Page, " and as he bowed he saw, garbedin spotless white, the girl he had seen leaning against the rock andwatching the sunset. 

CHAPTER XX

A PAIR OF BLUE EYES

Some men have their fancy caught by a woman's face or form, or both;others by a look, a word, a smile. A witty reply to some masculine jesthas tipped many an arrow for Cupid and won for a maiden a lover. 

The appealing yet wondering glance that Albert Page met as he bowed tothe girl standing beside the table that evening was one he neverafterwards forgot. It was only one, for after that, and during theentire meal, her blue eyes were kept veiled by their long lashes, ormodestly directed elsewhere. 

"It's a charming spot down here, " he remarked soon after the meal began, "and so hidden away that it is a surprise. I noticed the light as wecame in, but did not see the village. "

"Wal, ye didn't miss anything, " responded his host; "none o' the housesare much for style, an' mebbe it's lucky they're hid behind the rocks. "

"I thought them quaint and comfortable, " observed Albert; "but what anodd name you have for the place! Why do you call it Saint's Rest?"

"Chiefly 'cause none o' the people have any chance to become sinners, Ireckon, " was the answer; "it's a trifle lonesome in the winter, though. "

"I suppose fishing is your principal occupation here, " continued Albert, seeing that sentiment was not considered by Uncle Terry; "your land doesnot seem adapted for cultivation. "

"There ain't much chance for tillin', " he replied; "the land's wuss'nwhar I was brung up down in Connecticut, an' thar we had ter round upthe sheep once a week an' sharpen thar noses on the grin'stun! We manageter raise 'nough ter eat, though. "

When the meal was over Uncle Terry said, "It's nice an' cool out on therocks, and thar's some seats out thar; if ye enjoy smoking we best goout while the wimmin are doin' the dishes. "

The moon that Frank had planned to use was nearing its full, and highoverhead, and as the two men, so widely separated in all respects, sought congeniality in tobacco out on that lonesome point, Albert couldnot curb his admiration for the scene. His offer of a cigar to his hosthad been accepted, and as that quaint man sat quietly enjoying an odorand flavor he was certainly unaccustomed to, Albert said:

"This experience has been a surprise to me from the moment I met you. Ihad an ugly hour's scramble over the rocks and through a tangle of scrubspruce and briers until I was utterly lost and believed this island animpassable wilderness. Then you came along and brought me to one of themost beautiful spots I ever saw. I should like to stay here all summerand do nothing but look at this magnificent ocean view and sketch thesebold shores. "

"Do you paint picturs too?" queried Uncle Terry, suddenly interested. "Telly's daft on doing that, an' is at it all the time she can git!"Then he added with a slight inflection of pride, "Mebbe ye noticed someo' her picturs in the sittin'-room?"

"I saw a lot of pictures there, " answered Albert, "but it was too darkto see them well. I should like to look at them in the morning. "

"Ye'll hev plenty o' time, " was the reply, "I must pull my lobster trapsfust, an' after that I'll take ye in my dory an' we'll go an' find yerboat. I guess she must be lyin' in Seal Cove, the only openin' 'twixthere an' the head she'd be likely ter run into. "

"And so your daughter is an artist, is she?" asked Albert, indifferentnow as to where the "Gypsy" was or when he was likely to return to her. He came near adding that that fact was another surprise, but did not. Instead he said, "Has she ever taken lessons?"

"No, it comes nat'ral to her, " replied Uncle Terry; "she showed the bento' her mind 'fore she was ten years old, an' she's pestered me eversince ter git her canvas an' paints an' sich. But then, I'm willin'ter, " he added in a tender tone. "Telly's a good girl and Lissy and meset great store by her. She's all we've got in the world;" then pointingto a small white stone just to the right of where they were, he added, "Thar's whar the other one's been layin' fer mor'n twenty years. "

"This one has grown to be a very beautiful girl, " said Albert quietly, "and you have reason to be proud of her. "

Uncle Terry made no reply, but seemed lost in a reverie, and Albertslowly puffed his cigar and looked out on the ocean, and along theever-widening path of moonlight. He very much wished that this fairgirl, so quaintly spoken of, were there beside him, that he might talkto her about her art. And as he grew curious and a bit surprised at thesort of people he had unexpectedly come upon, a little desire to know atleast one of them a good deal better came to him. How it could bemanaged, and what excuse to give for remaining longer than the morrow, he could not see, and yet very much wished to find one. He lookedtoward the house, white in the moonlight, with the tall lighthouse andits beacon flash just beyond, and wondered if he should see the girlagain that night. He hoped he might, and was on the point of suggestingthey go in and visit a little with the ladies when Uncle Terry said:

"I believe ye called yerself a lawyer, Mr. Page, an' from Boston. Do yehappen to know a lawyer thar that has got eyes like a cat, an' a noselike a gentleman from Jerusalem, an' rubs his hands as if he was washin''em while he's talkin'?"

Albert gave a start. "I do, Mr. Terry, " he answered, "I know him well. His name is Frye, Nicholas Frye. "

"An' as you're a lawyer, an' one that looks to me as honest, " continuedUncle Terry, "what is your honest opinion o' this Mr. Frye?"

"That is a question I would rather not answer, " replied Albert, "until Iknow why you ask it, and what your opinion of Mr. Frye is. Mine mightnot flatter him, and I do not believe in speaking ill of anybody unlessforced to. "

Uncle Terry was silent, evidently revolving a serious problem in hismind. "I am goin' ter beg yer pardon, Mr. Page, " he said at last, "ferspeakin' the way I did regardin' lawyers in gineral. My 'sperence with'em has been bad, an' naterally I don't trust 'em much. I've had somedealin's with this ere Frye 'bout a matter I don't want to tell 'bout, an' the way things is workin' ain't as they should be. I b'lieve I'mrobbed right along, an' if ye'r' willin' ter help me I shall be mosttarnally grateful, an' will give ye my word I'll never let on teranybody what ye say--an' Silas Terry never yit broke his promise. "

Albert silently offered his hand to Uncle Terry, who grasped itcordially. "I will tell you, Mr. Terry, " he said after the handshake, "all I know about Mr. Frye and what my opinion is of him. What yourbusiness with him is, matters not. I am certain you are an honest manand will keep your word. I recently worked for Mr. Frye six months andleft him to open an office for myself. He offered me more than doublewhat he had been paying to remain, but no money would tempt me to do it. In that six months I became satisfied Nicholas Frye was the mostunprincipled villain ever masked under the name of lawyer. If all thoseyou have had business with were like him I don't wonder at your remarkto-day. "

Uncle Terry leaned forward with elbows on his knees, resting his face inthe palms of his hands, and ejaculated: "I knew it! I knew it! I'm ablamed old fool an' ought ter hev a keeper put over me!" Then turningto Albert he added, "I've paid that dum thief over four hundred dollarsthis year an' hain't got a scrap o' paper ter show fer't, and nothin'sbeen done so fer as I kin see 'bout the business. " He meditated a fewmoments, and then turning around suddenly added, "My wife an' Tellydon't know nothin' 'bout this, and I don't want they should. Thar's asucker born every minit and two ter ketch him, an' I b'lieve it! I'vebeen ketched an' skinned fer dead sure! I want ter sleep on't, an' mebbein the mornin' I'll tell ye the hull story, an' how I've been made afool of. I'm beginnin' ter think I kin trust ye. "

"I thank you for your good opinion, " answered Albert, "and if I can helpyou any way I will. "

When the two returned to the house Albert was shown to a room thatreminded him of his boyhood home, the old-fashioned bed, spotlesscounterpane, and muslin curtains all seemed so sweet and wholesome. Afaint odor of lavender carried him back to the time when his mother'sbed linen exhaled the same sweet fragrance. He lighted a cigar and satdown by a window where crisp salt sea air came in, and tried to fathomwhat manner of business Uncle Terry could have with Frye. It was anenigma, and as he looked out on the wide expanse of moonlit ocean whereevery wave sparkled with silvery light, and listened to the ceaselessrhythm of the long swells breaking upon the rocks almost under hiswindow, he could not solve it. That the odd-spoken old man was in soredistress was evident, and for an hour Albert watched the sparkling seain vain imaginings as to what Uncle Terry's business with Frye could be. And into his meditation also crept the face and form of the girl he hadfirst seen watching the sunset. 

CHAPTER XXI

A NEW CLIENT

When Albert arose the next morning the sun was just appearing round andred out of the ocean, and a crisp breeze blowing into the open windows. He heard the stir of some one below, and, dressing quickly, descended tothe sitting-room. No one was there, and he stood for a moment looking atthe curiously framed paintings that almost covered the wall. 

One in particular caught his eye. It was a ship careened on the oceanwith waves breaking upon her. She was resting on rocks that barelyshowed beneath, and in her rigging, heavily covered with ice, were fivemen. All around was the sea, tossed into giant waves, curling andbreaking about the stranded vessel. He noted the life-like shading ofthe green and white billows; the ice that covered every shroud and ropeand spar; and peering out of a cabin door was a woman holding a babe inher arms. In a way it was a ghastly picture, and one that held hisattention from all the rest. 

It was framed in a broad flat moulding covered with shells. He was stillgazing at it when he heard Uncle Terry's voice bidding him good morning. 

"Ain't ye up a little arly?" said that worthy; "I hope ye slep' well. Iginerally roust out by day-light an' put out the light an' then start afire, but thar was no need o' you gittin' out so soon. "

"I think the waves woke me, " replied Albert, "and the morning is sobeautiful I couldn't waste it in bed. "

"I'm goin' over to the cove to mend a trap, " continued Uncle Terry, "an'if ye'r' willin', I'd like ter hev ye go along too. The wimmin'll hevbreakfast ready by that time, an' then I'll take ye up to Seal Cove an'see if yer boat's thar. "

He seemed depressed and not inclined to talk, and as Albert sat on anoverturned dory and watched him puttering away over a lobster trap, hebegan to feel sorry for him. His hat had fallen off and the sea windsblew his scant fringe of gray hair over his bald head. His brown shirtwas open at the throat, disclosing a bony neck, and his well-worngarments showed the outlines of a somewhat wasted form. What impressedAlbert more than all this was the dejected manner of Uncle Terry. It wasas if an unexpected sorrow had come upon him. When he finished fixingthe trap he pulled a dory in that was moored out in the cove andcarefully bailed and wiped it clean. When this was done he said almostwistfully: "I've worried a good deal 'bout what you told me last night, an' I'd like ter have a good talk with ye. I s'pose ye'r' anxious tersee yer friends an' let 'em know ye'r' all safe, an' I'll take ye up theisland the fust thing an' then go an' pull my traps, and then if ye'r'willin' we'll sot down, if it ain't askin' too much o' ye ter wait, " headded almost pathetically. "I'll get Telly to show ye her picturs, andmebbe ye can give her some pints as'll help her. "

"I shall be more than glad to do so, " replied Albert, "but if thatshipwreck scene is hers, she needs no advice from me. "

Uncle Terry looked pleased, but made no answer. On the way back to thehouse he said: "I'd ruther ye'd make no mention to the wimmin of ourhevin' any talk. "

At the breakfast table he seemed in better spirits, and more likehimself. 

"I think ye told me last night, " he remarked, addressing Albert, "thatye painted picturs yerself some. " And then turning to Telly he added:"Mr. Page is comin' back here bimeby, jest to look 'round, an' mebbehe'd like ter look at some o' yourn. "

Telly's face flushed slightly. "I shall be delighted, " added Albert, "ifMiss Terry will favor me. Will you?" he added in a persuasive tone. 

"I do not feel that my pictures are good enough to show to strangers, "she answered in a low voice; "I have never had any lessons or any one toshow me. "

"From what I've noticed in your sitting-room, " responded Albert quickly, "you need not be ashamed to show them to an artist. I am not one. I onlysketch a little, just as a remembrance of places I visit, but I lovepictures even better than music. "

"I will gladly show you what I have done, " replied Telly simply, andthere the conversation ended. When the meal was over Albert observed:"With your permission, Mrs. Terry, I would like to make a sketch of yourhome and the lighthouse, and after Mr. Terry has helped me find myfriends I am coming back. " Then turning to Telly he added: "I can thenfeel easy in my mind, and shall enjoy looking over your paintings. "

"Won't ye stop to dinner with us?" asked Aunt Lissy, as Albert thankedher for her hospitality; "we'll be glad to have ye. "

"I will, thank you, " replied Albert; "this point, and in fact thisvillage, was such a surprise to me, and is so charming, I am going todevote all my day to it. " Then bidding the ladies good morning, hefollowed Uncle Terry over to the cove, where they boarded his dory andstarted out to find the "Gypsy. "

Albert had spoken truly when he expressed surprise at the charms of theCape and Uncle Terry's home, and not the least of it was the hospitalityshown him in that home. But perhaps the greatest surprise of all was thefinding of so fair a girl as Telly hid away, as it were, in anunheard-of corner of the world. "And she has the soul of an artist inher, " he said to himself, as Uncle Terry pulled the dory out of theharbor and up the coast towards where he had been left stranded; "andwhat eyes, and what a perfect form!"

Then, as good luck would have it, when they rounded a point, there wasthe "Gypsy" following the island shore down to meet them. Albert stoodup and waved his cap. He was answered by the whistle, and in an instantevery one on board of her, even the crew, were out on her bows andwaving caps lustily. The skipper kept the whistle blowing, and as theyacht slowed down and Uncle Terry pulled alongside, Albert was seizedand almost dragged on board. Frank was so overjoyed he hugged him, andthen gave vent to a war-whoop that might have been heard the entirelength of Southport Island. 

"We guessed what had happened to you, " he said, "when we picked up yourboat. It was almost dark when one of the crew saw an empty boat floatingup the bay. We were all down in the cabin at that time, and had notnoticed how late it was, when he called us. Two of the crew lowered theother boat, and when they got back with yours we nearly had a fit. Themissing cushions and loop on the painter gave us a clue, and we halfexpected you would find your way back to the 'Gypsy' by land. "

"I guess you're not much acquainted with the interior of SouthportIsland, " put in Albert; and then going forward he brought back UncleTerry, and introduced him to the crowd. By this time the "Gypsy" wasalmost down to the Cape, and under one bell, and the direction of UncleTerry, she slowly steamed in. That worthy man had been looking over her, and his admiration was evident. 

"A purty slick craft, boys, " he said to the party, as the "Gypsy's"anchor ceased rattling out of the hawse-hole, --"a purty slick craft, an'must 'a' cost a heap o' money. "

Then as he pulled his own weather-beaten dory that had been towingastern along to the gangway, Albert stepped up to him and said in a lowvoice:

"Will you excuse me a little while, Mr. Terry? I want to change myclothes, and in an hour or so I will come ashore, and not only thankyou for all your kindness, but make you a visit. "

When Uncle Terry had gone Albert related his experiences for the pasteighteen hours to the party--that is, all but one incident, or rathersurprise, and that he omitted for reasons best known to himself. Thennothing would do but they must all go ashore, and look the quaint littlevillage over. 

"I wish you would keep away from the lighthouse, boys, " Albert said, asthey were getting into their boat. "Mr. Terry's family are rathersensitive people and may not like to have a lot of us trooping aroundtheir place. I am going over there this afternoon to make a sketch, andthen I'll ask permission, and we'll all go there some other day. "

He had whispered to Frank to remain on the yacht, and when the rest weregone he said to him: "Frank, I am going to confide something to you, andI want you to promise me on your honor not to hint it to any of ourfriends. " When that astonished young man had promised to keep mum, Albert continued, "The fact is, Frank, I've tumbled into an adventure, and fallen in love with a girl on sight, and without having exchangedten words with her! She is Mr. Terry's daughter, and has eyes that takeyour breath away, and a form like the Venus of Milo. She paintspictures that are a wonder, considering she never has taken a lesson, and has a face more bewitching than any woman's I ever saw. It is like apainter's dream. "

"Well, you have gone daft, old man, " replied the astonished Frank, breaking into a laugh in which Albert joined, and then adding withmischief in his eyes, "Does she take good care of her teeth andfingernails, Bert?"

Albert frowned. "Don't for heaven's sake mention her in the same breathwith those cigarette-smoking blemishes on their sex!" he answered; andthen he added more pleasantly, "But you haven't heard it all yet. Thisunique old man, who saved me from sleeping all night in a thicket ofbriers, and who has opened his heart and home to me, has fallen into theclutches of--Nicholas Frye!"

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Frank, "and how on earth did he ever find Frye, or Frye find him? Was your old man of the island hunting around Bostonfor some one to rob him?"

"That I do not know yet, " replied Albert; "all I know is that Mr. Terryhas paid Frye about four hundred dollars, and, as he says, so far hasnothing to show for it. What the business was I expect to learn later. Now what I am coming at is this: can't you manage to leave me here forthe rest of the day, or, better still, make it two days? I'll tell theboys I've tumbled into a bit of law business, which is what I think willcome out of it, and you can run down to Bar Harbor, or out to Monheganand back here to-morrow night. "

"Well, I'll do that gladly, " replied Frank; and then he added with adroll smile, "It will give you a chance to say a few sweet things tothis girl with the wondrous eyes, eh, Bert?"

"Please don't joke me about her before the rest of the crowd, " saidAlbert; "remember your promise!"

"Well, you told the truth when you said you had fallen in love with her, I guess, " observed Frank; "a fellow that feels that way about a girlmust be in love. "

"My dear boy, " replied Albert, "what you say may be true, but I've notyet insisted upon her singing 'Ben Bolt' three times in one evening. "

CHAPTER XXII

UNCLE TERRY'S GUEST

It was nearly noon when Albert left the yacht. He had exchanged hisbedraggled yachting-suit for a neat gray one, and with a small satchel, his sketch-book, and a box of choice Havanas for Uncle Terry, he rowedashore. For three hours the "Gypsy" had been the cynosure of all theCape eyes, old or young, for a handsome two-hundred-ton yacht was anovelty in their little harbor. When she steamed slowly out, with Frankand his companions, in natty white duck suits, grouped on her stern, shewas a pretty sight, and as she cleared the narrow entrance, the crewfired three guns and dipped her flag in honor of Albert, and then hepicked his way over the rocks to the lighthouse. Uncle Terry had notreturned from hauling his lobster traps, and Aunt Lissy and Telly methim at the door. It is likely that his being one of the yachting-partyimpressed them a little, for they were both dressed in their best. Hewas invited in, and then Aunt Lissy said: "Please excuse me, fur I havedinner to git, and Telly will entertain ye. "

"And show me her pictures, I hope, " put in Albert, with his mostpersuasive smile. 

It was an awkward position for Telly, and one that she had never beforebeen called upon to fill. Rather shy naturally, and her soleacquaintance with the usages of society limited to the few people amongwhom she had been brought up, to be called upon to entertain a smartlydressed and citified young man was a decidedly new experience. Albertsaw her embarrassment, and with true gallantry at once set about makingher feel at ease. 

"Please do not feel that you must try to entertain me, Miss Terry, " hesaid, "only show me your pictures and tell me about them. "

"I am almost ashamed to, " she replied timidly; "I have never taken anylessons and feel that I do not know anything about painting. Father saysyou are an artist yourself. "

"Oh, no, Miss Terry, " exclaimed Albert quickly, "he misunderstood me. Ionly sketch a little and once in a while make an effort to put a sketchthat is of interest on canvas. All I can tell is when one lookslife-like; for instance, "--pointing to it, --"that shipwreck scene. Itis wonderfully well done. Did you paint it from a real wreck?"

Telly colored. "No, sir, " she answered, "that was all done from father'sdescription of a wreck that took place off the point one winter when Iwas a baby. " Then, as if to check further questions, she stepped to acloset, brought him a small unframed picture, and added, "There is one Ihave just finished. "

It was a view of a tall cliff with a low shelf of rock at its base, overwhich the waves were breaking. Albert recognized it at once. "Why, thatis the very point, " he exclaimed, "that I was sketching yesterday whenmy boat drifted away. Did you paint it from a broad flat rock on thewest side of the cove?"

"Oh, yes, that is the spot, " replied Telly, looking pleased. "It isshady there, and I used to row up and paint in the afternoon. It isstrange you went to the same place. "

The ice was broken now, and Telly's shyness was almost gone. 

"Father told me about finding you, " she said, "and that you were turnedaround. You must have had a hard tramp, for it's all of two miles fromwhere you were to this cove, and an awful tangle all the way, he said. "

"I was decidedly turned when he came to my rescue, " Albert replied, "andthe sun seemed to be setting in the east. It was very kind of yourfather to take care of me the way he has, and I shall never forget it. "

It is not hard for two young people of opposite sex to get acquaintedwhen each desires to entertain the other and they have at least onewell-defined taste in common. In this case when the masculine one felt asudden admiration for his companion and brought all his resource of tactand subtle flattery to bear, they were soon on the very best of terms. Albert did not talk much, but adroitly induced Telly to do most of it. In the hour they passed together he discovered that two impulses werenearest her heart--the first and strongest her devotion to Mr. Terry, and after that a desire to paint. 

"I do not ever hope to do much, " she admitted rather pathetically; "Inever have taken lessons and maybe never shall. I would not think ofasking father to let me go away, and all I can do is to work blindly. Ioften sit for hours trying to put things I see on canvas, only to failutterly and begin all over again. I should not mind it if I could seethat I made any progress, but I do not. I can't let it alone, though, for the most happy hours I have are when I'm painting. "

"You certainly have perseverance, " responded Albert encouragingly, "andthe pictures you have shown me seem very life-like. I wish I could do aswell. You have done good work for one self-taught as you are, and youhave no reason to be discouraged. "

Then Uncle Terry came in and announced dinner. It was rather a stateaffair for the Terry household, and the table bore their best dinnerservice, with a vase of flowers in the centre. 

"I hope ye feel hungry, " said Uncle Terry, as he passed a well-filledplate to Albert, "for we live plain, and it's good appetite as makesgood vittles. I s'pose ye are used ter purty high livin'?"

"Whatever tastes good is good, " replied Albert, and turning to AuntLissy he added, "This fried lobster beats anything I have tasted for along time. "

When the meal was over he handed the box of cigars he had brought to hishost with the remark, "Please accept these, Mr. Terry, and when yousmoke them, think of the forlorn fellow you found by the wayside. "

"I've got ter leave ye ter th' tender marcies o' the wimmin folks, " saidUncle Terry, after thanking Albert, "for I've got work to do, andto-night we'll have a visit. I hope you'll be willin' to stay with us aday or two, " he added, "an' to-morrow I'll take ye out fishin'. "

"I will stay until to-morrow, thank you, " replied Albert, "and it willbe a treat to me, I assure you. "

It was a new departure for him to find so cordial a welcome among totalstrangers, and he could not quite understand it. He was not inclined toquarrel with fate, however, especially when it had thrown him into thesociety of such people. It is needless to say the "tender marcies" of atleast one of them were quite to his taste. 

"I should like to row up to where I was left boat-less yesterday, " hesaid to Telly after Uncle Terry had gone, "and finish the sketch Ibegan, and also try to find the cushions I dropped in the woods; may Iask you to go too?"

"I should be glad to if mother can spare me, " she answered. 

When he rowed out of the little harbor where he had left his boat, Tellysat in the stern holding the tiller ropes, and shading her winsome facewas the same broad sun-hat he had seen on the rock beside her theevening before. It was a long four-mile pull, but he was unconscious ofit, and when he helped his companion out and secured the boat he said, "Now I am going to ask a favor of you, Miss Terry. I want you to standin just the position I first saw you and let me make a sketch of you. You were leaning on a rock and resting your head on one hand. "

Telly looked puzzled. 

"You did not know I saw you out on the point last evening, did you?" headded, smiling. "I stood and looked at you for five minutes and thenwalked away. I did not know who you were then, or that I should meet youlater. If I had I would not have been so rude. "

The color came to Telly's face at his evident admiration, but she didnot say no to his proposal and stood patiently in the position he wishedwhile he made the sketch. "There, " he exclaimed when it was finished, "Ishall transfer that to canvas when I go back, and whenever I look at itI shall recall this day and--you. "

"Will you need the picture for that?" she replied with a smile. It wasthe first little coquettish word she had uttered, and it amused Albert. "That sounds like Alice, " he said, and added hastily, "Alice is my onlysister, and I think more of her than of any other woman living. "

What these two young people, so rapidly becoming acquainted, had to sayall that long summer afternoon need not be recorded. Telly sat on theboat's cushions in a shady nook and watched Albert finish his sketchand then listened to his talk. He told her all about his home andsister, and Frank as well. In a way they exchanged a good deal ofpersonal history of interest to each other, but to no one else, so itneed not be repeated. Then they gathered flowers, like two children, andTelly insisted on decorating the boat. When it was done she wanted himto make a sketch of it for her. "Draw yourself as holding the oars, " shesaid, "and I will try to paint a picture from the sketch to remember youby, " she added with a smile. Then, as the sun was getting low, theystarted for home. The breeze had all vanished and the sea was likeglass. Only the long ground swells barely lifted their boat and made theshadows of the trees along the shore wave in fantastic undulations. Whenthey reached the Cape Telly said, "You had better go around to the covewhere father keeps his boats. It's nearer to the house, and there is afloat there where you can pull your boat out. "

She waited until he had done so, and then stooped and selected a few ofthe flowers with which they had decked the boat. "I am going to paintthem, " she said quietly, as she turned and followed Albert up to thehouse. 

CHAPTER XXIII

A STRANGE STORY

Uncle Terry and Albert had just seated themselves on the point thatevening when Telly came out with a thick gray shawl and wrapped itaround her father's shoulders. "It's a little chilly to-night, " shesaid, "and I think you need it. " Then turning to Albert she added, "Wouldn't you like one too, Mr. Page?" He didn't in the least need anyprotection, but that made no difference. "I would, thank you, " heanswered, "if you have another to spare. " He would have answered yes ifshe had asked him to put on woollen mittens. She returned to the houseand came back, this time bearing a white zephyr wrap, and handed it toAlbert. "I will bid you good-night, now, " she said, "for I presume youwill sit here long after bed-time. "

Uncle Terry's eyes followed her back to the house, and then he turned tohis guest. 

"I s'pose ye'd rather be talking to Telly than me, out here in themoonlight, " he said bluntly, "now that ye've got a little acquainted. It's the way o' young folks. "

"I've had a very pleasant visit with your daughter this afternoon, "responded Albert; "she was good enough to go with me to where I got leftyesterday. I wanted to finish the sketch I began there. " Uncle Terrymade no answer, but sat puffing away at one of the cigars Albert hadgiven him. 

"We don't git cigars like this here, " he said at last, "an' they mustcost a lot o' money. " Albert made no reply, but waited quietly for therevelation he felt was coming. 

"Mr. Page, " said Uncle Terry at last, "I've worried a good deal sincelast night 'bout what you told me, an' I've made up my mind to tell yethe hull story an' trust ye with what no one else knows. To begin with, it's 'bout twenty years ago last March when thar war a vessel got a-foulo' a ledge jest off'n the pint here in a snow-storm, an' all hands wentdown; that is, all but a little yearlin' baby that cum ashore tied up'tween two feather-beds. I fished her out o' the surf, an' Lissy an' mehas taken care on her ever since, an' to-day she's worth a thousandtimes more'n she cost. How much she thinks o' me I'll let ye jedge bythe way she thought 'bout my comfort to-night. There was a few trinketscame ashore with her--picturs o' her father an' mother, we knew, an' alocket an' ring and some other things, so we knowed her name and wharshe cum from. Since then we have never heard a word from no oneregardin' her people, or whether any was livin', till last winter I cumacross a notice in a paper sayin' information was wanted 'bout an heirto an estate in Sweden, and tellin' facts that made me sure Telly wasthe one wanted. The notice was signed by that lawyer, Frye, that I askedye 'bout, an' I went to see him. He wanted proofs an' all that, an' Igave 'em to him, an' wussen that, he wanted money, an' I gave that tohim. He's kept askin' fer money ever since, an' I, like a dum fool, keptsendin' it, in hopes, if Telly had anything comin', she'd git her dues. I've sent him the locket and things that belonged to her, and all I'vegot so far is letters askin' for more money an' tellin' 'bout expensesan' evidence an' witnesses' fees an' bonds to be filed. Lissy an' Tellyknow 'bout the case, but they don't know how much money I've paid out, an' I don't want they should. That's the hull story, an' now as you're alawyer, an' I b'lieve an honest one, I ask ye what's best to be done. "

For fully five minutes Albert said nothing. The story was so startlingand opened such a wide horizon of possibilities that he was speechless. Then, perhaps, the distress in Uncle Terry's face and speech appealed tohim, for he said: "I see now, Mr. Terry, why you distrust lawyers, and Ido not wonder at it. To the best of my belief you have been swindled inthe most outrageous manner by Frye. He no doubt is acting for some lawfirm who have instructed him to find an heir, if there is one, to thisestate, and they would naturally advance all expense money. Do you knowthe vessel's name, where she sailed from, and who her master was?"

"She was a square-rigger, and the master's name was Peterson; in thenewspaper piece the name was Neils Peterson who cum from Stockholm, "answered Uncle Terry. "I've got it in my wallet now, an' on the locketwas the letters E. P. , an' on a piece o' paper that was pinned to thebaby's dress was the name Etelka Peterson. "

"And did you send these proofs to Frye?" asked Albert quickly. 

"I sent 'em six months ago, " was the reply, "an' I've jest 'bout made upmy mind I was a fool to 'a' done it, an' a bigger one to keep sendin'money. "

"It would have been all right, " answered Albert after a pause, "if youhad put them into an honest man's hands. As it is you are lame--in fact, utterly at the mercy of Frye, who is robbing you. " Then after thinkinga moment he added, "I will gladly do what I can to help you, Mr. Terry, and at no cost to you for my own services. The first step must be to getpossession of these material proofs, the next to find what firm hasemployed Frye. That will be easier than to get the trinkets, as you callthem, back. We might issue a writ of replevin and search Frye's office, but then we are not sure of finding them. They are so valuable in thecase that you may be sure Frye has them safe in hiding and will denypossession. Even if we find who employ him and lay the matter beforethem, he will declare us impostors and block us at once. As I said, weare helpless until we get possession of those proofs. "

"Ain't my word an' Lissy's as to savin' the baby no 'count?" asked UncleTerry. 

"Very good so far as it goes, " answered Albert, "but really no proofthat the child you saved is the one wanted for this inheritance. In thematter of a legacy the law is very exacting and demands absolute proof. No, the only way is to use duplicity and trick Frye, or ask him to namehis price and pay it, and as the estate may be large, his price willnaturally be extortionate. "

Albert thought a moment and then added, "Has Frye ever written youadmitting he has received or has those proofs in his possession?"

"Not a word, " answered Uncle Terry; "all he writes is, 'Your case isprogressing favorably. I need so much more money, ' an' I send it an' lay'wake nights worryin'. "

"How long since he has sent for money?" asked Albert. 

"'Bout a month, I reckon, " replied Uncle Terry. 

Albert leaned forward, resting his face on both hands and thinking. Itwas a hard case to solve, and knowing the manner of man Frye was, andhow nearly impossible it would be to trick him, a past master in allkinds of duplicity, he was at his wits' end. The more he thought thematter over, the harder the problem seemed. "We might have you go intohis office with one or two of your neighbors, " he said, "to act aswitnesses, and by some question get him to admit he has these articles, and then bring suit; but I do not think he would say anything before athird party. We might employ a detective, but Frye is too shrewd to becaught napping. I confess, Mr. Terry, I am stumped, and can see no wayout of the dilemma. " Then he lighted a fresh cigar and gazedmeditatively upon the ocean where the ever-broadening path of moonshinestretched away. Only a little way out the ground swells were breakingupon a long narrow reef, and as it caught his eye there came to him thememory of the pictured wreck he had noticed in Uncle Terry'ssitting-room that morning, and Telly's evident wish to avoid allquestions regarding it. Then it dawned upon him that that subject mightbe a tender one with her, and maybe that in some way she felt herhistory was a cloud upon her life, or perhaps a humiliation. He turnedto Uncle Terry again:

"How does your--I mean, how does Telly feel about this matter, Mr. Terry, for I suppose she knows the story?"

"That's suthin' I hate ter talk 'bout, but as ye'r' likely to see moreo' us an' more o' Telly, it's better ye know it all. When she was 'boutten we told her the story, and showed her the things we'd kep' lockedup. She didn't seem ter mind it then, but as she's growed older itsorter shadders her life, as it were. We used ter ketch her lookin' atthe things once in a while, an' cryin'. When I sent 'em to Boston shetook on a good deal, an' ain't been the same sence. We try to keep herfrom thinkin' 'bout it all we can, but she's curis in her ways, and I'vethought she was kinder 'shamed, an' mebbe broodin' over it makes itwuss. "

This was a new phase of the trouble to Albert, and one he could notquite understand. "You do not mean that you fear she would make awaywith herself in a fit of melancholy, do you?" he asked. 

"I dunno what to think, " was the answer, "only I hate to have her out o'sight much, an' the more lovin' she is the more I worry. I've bin sorryat times I ever went to Frye, but it's too late ter back out now. "

"One thing please promise me, " said Albert when they had started for thehouse, "do not hint either to her or your wife that you have told meanything about this matter. I will do all that can be done, and consultonly with you, in private. "

CHAPTER XXIV

A WHISPER OF THE OCEAN

The next day was a red-letter one in Albert's history. In the morning hefollowed Uncle Terry around the circuit of his lobster traps in the"Gypsy's" boat, with Telly as a companion, and watched the old manhauling and rebaiting those elongated coops and taking out his hideousprizes. The day was a perfect one, the sea just ruffled by a lightbreeze, and as her first timidity had now worn away, he found Telly amost charming companion. She not only loved the ocean that in a way hadbeen her playmate since childhood, but she had an artist's eye for allits beauties. How many features, new to Albert, she called to hisattention, and how her naïve observations, so fresh and delightful, eachand all interested him, need not be quoted. It was an entirely newexperience to him, and the four hours' pull in and out of the islandcoves and around isolated ledges where Uncle Terry set his traps passedall too quickly. 

"Do you know, " said Albert when they had returned to the little covewhere Uncle Terry kept his boats, and as he sat watching him pick up hismorning's catch and toss them one by one into a large car, "that thefirst man who thought of eating a lobster must have been almost starved. Of all creatures that grow in the sea, there is none more hideous, andonly a hungry savage could have thought them fit for food. "

"They ain't over hansum, " replied Uncle Terry, "but fried in pork fatthey go middlin' good if ye're hungry. "

That afternoon Telly invited Albert to row her up to a cove, at the headof which was a narrow valley where blueberries grew in profusion. "Iwant to pick a few, " she said, "and you can make a sketch of the covewhile I do. " It must be recorded that helping her picking berries provedmore attractive, and when her pail was full, all he did in that line wasto make a picture of her sitting in front of a pretty cluster of smallspruce trees, with the pail beside her and her sun-hat trimmed withferns. 

"Your city friends will laugh at the country girl you found down inMaine, " she remarked as she looked at the sketch, "but as they willnever see me, I don't care. "

"My friends will never see it, " he answered quietly, "only my sister. And I am going to bring her down here next summer. "

"Tell me about her, " said Telly at once, "is she pretty?"

"I think so, " replied Albert, "she has eyes like yours, only her hair isnot so light. She is a petite little body and has a mouth that makes onewant to kiss her. "

"I should like to see her ever so much, " responded Telly, and then sheadded rather sadly, "I've never had a girl friend in my life. There areonly a few at the Cape of my age, and I don't see much of them. I don'tmind it in the summer, for then I work on my pictures, but in winter itis so lonesome. For days I do not see any one except father and motheror old Mrs. Leach. "

"And who is Mrs. Leach?" asked Albert. 

"Oh, she's a poor old soul who lives alone and works on the fish racks, "answered Telly, "she is worse off than I am. " It was a little glimpseinto the girl's life that interested Albert, and in the light of what heknew of her history, a pathetic one. Truly she was alone in the world, and except for the two kindly souls who made a home for her, she had noone to turn to. 

"You will go away to-morrow, I suppose, " she said with a faint tone ofregret as they were rowing home. "Father said your boat was coming afteryou to-day. "

He looked at her a moment, while a slight smile showed beneath hismustache. "I suppose I shall have to, " he answered, "but I should liketo stay here a month. I've not made a sketch of your house, even. "

"I wish you would, " she said with charming candor, "it is so lonesomehere, and then maybe you would show me a little about painting. "

"Could you endure my company every day for a month?" he asked, lookingher full in the face. 

"I don't believe you could endure ours, " she replied, dropping her eyes, and then she added quickly, "There is a prayer-meeting to-night at theCape; would you like to go?"

"Most certainly, " he answered; "I can imagine it will be interesting. "

Albert had expected to see the "Gypsy" in the harbor when they returnedthat afternoon, but was most happily disappointed. "I hope they willstay at Bar Harbor a week, " he thought. And that evening when Tellyappeared, ready to be escorted to the prayer-meeting, he was certainthat no fairer girl was to be found at Bar Harbor, or anywhere else. 

She was dressed in simple white, her masses of sunny hair halfconcealed by a thin blue affair of loosely knitted wool, and had acluster of wild roses at her throat. It was a new and pleasurableexperience to be walking beside a well-dressed young man whose everylook and word bespoke enjoyment of her society, and she showed it in hersimple, unaffected way. "I am afraid we shall disturb the meeting, " shesaid with a smile, as they were walking over to the village. "The folkswill be so curious to know who you are they will sing worse than ever. That's about all they do, " she added by way of explanation, --"sing a fewhymns, and Deacon Oaks will make a prayer and Mr. Gates another. Theymay call on you to give testimony, " she continued, looking at Albertarchly; "will you respond?"

"Hardly, " was the reply. "I always respect people's religious feelings, but I must confess I belong to the great majority of sinners who havenever had a change of heart. "

That evening's gathering was a unique one in Albert's experience, andthe religious observances such as he never forgot. The place was alittle square, unpainted building, not larger than a countryschoolhouse, and when Telly and he entered and seated themselves on oneof the wooden settees that stood in rows, not over a dozen people werethere. On a small platform in front was a cottage organ, and beside ita small desk. A few more entered after they did, and then a florid-facedman arose, and, followed by a short and stout young lady, walked forwardto the platform. The girl seated herself at the organ, and the man, after turning up the lamp on the organ, opened the book of gospel hymns, and said in a nasal tone, "We will naow commence our sarvices by singin'the forty-third psalm, and all are requested to rise an' jine. " In thecentre of the room hung a large lamp, and two more on brackets at theside shed a weak light on the gathering, but no one seemed to feel itnecessary to look for the forty-third selection. Albert and Telly arosewith the rest, and the girl at the organ began to chase the slow tune upand down the keys. Then the red-faced man started the singing, a littlebelow the key, and the congregation followed. To Albert's surprise, Telly's voice, clear and distinct, at his side joined with the rest. Along prayer, full of halting repetitions, by the man at the desk, followed, and then another hymn, and after that came a painful pause. ToAlbert's mind it was becoming serious, and he began to wonder how itwould end, when there ensued one of the most weird and yet patheticprayers he had ever listened to. It was uttered by an old lady, tall, gaunt, and white-haired, who arose from the end of a settee close to thewall and beneath one of the smoke-dimmed lamps. It could not be classedas a prayer exactly, for when she began her utterance she looked aroundas if to find sympathy in the assembled faces, and her deep-set piercingeyes seemed alight with intense feeling. At first she grasped the backof the settee in front with her long fleshless fingers, and then laterclasped and finally raised them above her upturned face, while her bodyswayed with the vehemence of her feelings. Her garb, too, lent a pathos, for it was naught but a faded calico dress that hung from her attenuatedframe like the raiment of a scarecrow. It may have been the shadowy roomor the mournful dirge of the nearby ocean that added an uncanny touch toher words and looks, but from the moment she arose until her utteranceceased, Albert was spell-bound. So peculiar, and yet so pathetic, washer prayer, it shall be quoted in full as uttered:

"O Lord, " she said, "I come to Thee, knowin' I'm as a worm that crawlson the airth; like the dust blown by the winds; the empty shell on theshore, or the leaves that fall on the ground. I come poor an' humble. Icome hungry and thirsty, like even the lowliest of the airth. I come andkneel at Thy feet--believin' that I, a poor worm o' the dust, willstill have Thy love and pertection. I'm old, an' weary o' waitin'. I'mhumble, and bereft o' kin. I'm sad, and none to comfort me. I eat thecrust o' poverty, an' drink the cup of humility. My pertector and mystaff have bin taken from me, and yet, for all these burdens Thou in Thyinfinite wisdom hev seen fit to lay on me, I thank Thee! Thou hast ledmy feet among thorns and stuns, and yet I thank Thee. Thou hast laid thecross o' sorrow on my heart, and the burden o' many infirmities for meto bear, and yet I bless Thee, yea, verily shall my voice be lifted toglorify and praise Thee day and night, for hast Thou not promised methat all who are believers in Thy word shall be saved? Hast Thou notsent Thy son to die on the cross for my sake, poor and humble as I am?An' fer this, an' fer all Thy infinite marcy an' goodness to me, Ipraise an' thank Thee to-night, knowin' that not a sparrer falls withoutThy knowin' it, and that even the hairs of our heads are numbered. 

"I thank Thee, O Lord, for the sunshine every day, and the comin' o' thebirds and flowers every season. I thank Thee that my eyes are stillpermitted to see Thy beautiful world, and my ears to hear the songs o'praise. I thank Thee, too, that with my voice I can glorify and blessThee fer all Thy goodness, and fer all Thy marcy. An' when the day ofjudgment comes an' the dead rise up then I know Thou wilt keep Thypromise, an' that even I, poor an' humble, shall live again, jinin'those that have gone before, to sit at Thy feet an' glorify Thee forlife everlastin'. Fer this blessed hope, an' fer all Thy other promises, I lift my voice in gratitude an' thankfulness an' praise to Thee, myheavenly Father, an' to thy son, my Redeemer, to-night an' to-morrer an'forever an' forever. Amen. "

To Albert, a student of Voltaire, of Hume, of Paine, and an admirer ofIngersoll, a doubter of scriptural authenticity, and almost amaterialist in belief, this weird and piteous utterance came withpeculiar effect. That she who uttered it had only told the tale of herown sad life and hope he understood at once, and what was of more force, that she believed and felt in her own heart that every word of herrecital was heard by her Creator. Albert had heard prayers and religiousexhortations without number; prayers that were incoherent, pointless, vague, or uttered to the hearers instead of God; prayers that containedadvice to the Deity galore, but of supplication and thankfulness not avestige; but never before one that reached his heart and touched hisfeelings as the strange and piteous supplication uttered by this weirdold lady there in the dimly-lighted room with the sad and solemn dirgeof the ocean whispering through the open windows. 

The rest of the services were of little interest to him, except the factthat Telly's voice at his side, now a little bolder than at first, ledthe gospel hymns that followed. Old and time-worn they were, and yetrendered with a zest of feeling reflected, maybe, from the plaintiveprayer of this old lady. 

Our moods, and more especially our thoughts, are often turned from onegroove into another by some single word or reference that, like a littlerudder at the stern of a great ship, seems of no account. To Albert, whofor a year had had no thought except to win success amid the hard, selfish scramble of life in a busy city, this episode, and moreespecially the utter self-abnegation and piteous appeal of this poor, ill-clad, and gaunt-faced old lady, was the tiny rudder that changed histhoughts and carried him back to the many times when he, a boy, exuberant in spirit, was made to kneel each night at bed-time and listento a loving mother's prayer. Then, too, the memory of that mother'sface, and even the very tones of her voice as she prayed that God wouldguide her boy's footsteps aright, came back to him now, and into theremembrance too was woven all of that mother's kind and patient acts;all her earnest and good advice; all her self-denials; all the pinchingsand small economies she had endured to enable him to receive aneducation, and as each and all came trooping back like so many littlehands tugging at his heart-strings and moistening his eyes, he realizedthat there was needed in this hurrying, selfish life of ours somethingdeeper, and something beyond the skepticism of Voltaire and thematerialism of Ingersoll. And there in that dim little room, with twodozen poorly clad and simple fisher-folk singing gospel hymns to theaccompaniment of a wheezy cottage organ, he realized that while atheismand doubt might appeal to his intellect, it did not satisfy his heart, and that while materialism might be a good enough theory to live by, itwas a cheerless belief to die by. 

And then too, as he stole covert looks at the fair girl who stood by hisside, joining her sweet voice in "Hold the Fort, " "Pull for the Shore, ""Gathering at the River, " and all the other time-worn gospel songs, older than he was, into his heart came the first feeling, also, that shewas the one woman he had ever met whose gentle, unaffected goodness andpurity of thought was worthy of any man's devotion. But words are givenus to conceal as well as to reveal our feelings, and when the uniquelittle prayer-meeting was concluded with an oddly spoken benediction byDeacon Oaks, and Albert and Telly were on their way back to the point, his first words bore no disclosure of his feelings. 

"Who was the poor old lady that prayed so fervently?" he asked; "I havenever heard anything like it since I was a boy. "

"Oh, that's the Widow Leach, " Telly responded; "she always acts that wayand feels so too, I guess. She is an object of pity here, and very poor. She has no relation living that she knows of, lives alone in a smallhouse she owns, and works on the fish racks summers, and winters has tobe helped. Her husband and two sons were lost at sea many years ago, andfather says religion is all the consolation she has left. "

"Does she always pray as fervently as she did to-night?" was Albert'snext query. 

"Oh, yes, that's her way, " was the answer; "father says she is a littlecracked about such matters. He pities her, though, and helps her a gooddeal, and so does 'most every one else here who can. She needs it. " Thenafter a pause she added, "How did you enjoy the meeting, Mr. Page?"

"Well, " replied Albert slowly, and mentally contrasting it with manySunday services when he had occupied a pew with the Nasons at theirfashionable church in Boston, "it has been an experience I shall notsoon forget. In one way it has been a pleasure, for it has taken me backto my young days. " Then he added a little sadly, "It has also been apain, for it recalled my mother and how she used to pray that I mightgrow to be a good man. "

"You are not a bad man, are you?" responded Telly at once, lookingcuriously at him. 

"Oh, no; I hope not, " he answered, smiling, "I try to do as I would bedone by, but the good people here might think I was, maybe, because I amnot a professor of religion. For that reason I should be classed as oneof the sinners, I presume. "

"Well, so is father, " responded Telly, "but that doesn't make him one. Deacon Oaks calls him a scoffer, but I know he trusts him in all moneymatters, and I think father is the best and kindest man in the world. Hehas been so good and kind to me I would almost lie down and die for him, if necessary. "

It was an expression of feeling that was not surprising to Albert, knowing as he did her history, but he felt it unwise to discuss it. "Howdo you feel about this matter of belief?" he asked after a pause. "Areyou what this old lady would call a believer, Miss Terry?"

"Oh, no, " she replied slowly, "I fear I am not. I always go to meetingSundays when there is one, --mother and I, --and once in a while to theThursday evening prayer-meeting. I think it's because I enjoy thesinging. "

When they reached the point Albert could not restrain his desire toenjoy the society of this unaffected, simple, and beautiful girl alittle longer. The moon that Frank had planned to use was high overhead, and away out over the still ocean stretched a broadening path of silverysheen, while at their feet, where the ground swells were breaking uponthe rocks, every splash of foam looked like snow-white wool. 

"If it's not asking too much, Miss Terry, " said Albert with utmostpoliteness, "won't you walk out to the top of the cliff and sit down afew moments, while I enjoy a cigar? The night is too beautiful to turnaway from at once. "

Telly, nothing loath perhaps, assented, and they took possession of therustic seat where Albert had listened to her history the night before. Perhaps a little of its pathos came to him now as he watched her sweetface while she gazed far out to seaward and to where the swells werebreaking over a low, half-submerged ledge. And what a flood of new andbewitching emotions came to him as he watched his fair companion, allunconscious of his scrutiny!--and with them, a sudden and keen interestto unravel the mystery of her parentage, and the hope that some time hemight do it. He also felt an unaccountable desire to tell her that heknew her pathetic story, and to express his interest in it and hissympathy for her, but dared not. "It may hurt her to know I know it, " hethought, "and I will wait till she knows me better. " Instead he begantelling her about himself and his own early life, his home, his loss ofparents, his struggle to earn a living, and how much success he had sofar met. It may be considered egotism, but it was the wisest thing hecould have done, for it awakened her interest in him far more than herealized. When his recital and cigar were both at an end and it was timeto go in, he said: "I may not have another chance to ask you, MissTerry, before I leave here; but when I get back to Boston may I write toyou, and will you answer my letters if I do?"

The question startled her a little, but she answered:

"I shall be pleased to hear from you, Mr. Page, and will do the best Ican in replying, only do not expect too much. "

When he had bade her good night and was alone in his room, the memory ofMrs. Leach and her pitiful prayer, coupled with Telly's pleading eyesand sweet face, banished all thoughts of sleep, and he had to lightanother cigar and watch the moonlit ocean for a half hour while hesmoked and meditated. 

CHAPTER XXV

THE "GYPSY" RETURNS

"How did ye like the prayer-meetin'?" asked Uncle Terry the nextmorning, as Albert stood watching him getting ready to start on hisdaily rounds. "Did the Widder Leach make ye feel ye was a hopelesssinner?"

"It was an interesting experience, " replied Albert, "and one I shall notsoon forget. "

"Oh, it don't do 'em no harm to git together an' pray an' sing, an' mostlikely it divarts their minds from other troubles, but in my way o'thinkin', prayin' is a good deal like a feller tryin' to lift himself byhis boot-straps. It encourages him some, but he don't git much further. "Then, as if a load was on his mind, he added, "You haven't thought o' noway ter git me out o' my scrape, hev ye?"

"I have thought a good deal about it, " replied Albert, "and the bestway, it seems to me, is for you to go right to Frye and tell him youcan't afford to carry the case any further, and offer to pay whateverfee he sees fit to ask. You can tell him you will give up the caseentirely, and ask him to return the proofs you want. I may decide tohave a detective within hearing, so that if he refuses you these things, we can use the detective as a witness in a replevin suit. Most likely hewill demand quite a sum, but it is best to pay it if we can get theproofs. I will advance money enough to cover what he is likely to ask. What I want you to do is to wait until he sends for more money; thencome to me at once with the news. "

Uncle Terry looked at Albert a moment, and suddenly grasping his hand, exclaimed, "I can't thank ye 'nough for yer offer to help me, but I kinsay how sorry I am I distrusted ye at fust, and as long as I've a roofto cover my head, ye'r' sure to find a welcome under it, an' thelatch-string allus out. "

"I thank you for your kindly words, Mr. Terry, " responded Albert, "and Iam likely to avail myself of your invitation again before the summer isover. I expect my friends back to-day and must join them, but I assureyou I would much prefer to stay here for the two weeks I have plannedfor my outing. "

"Ye won't go till I see ye again, will ye?" asked Uncle Terry anxiously. 

"No, " was the answer. "If the 'Gypsy' shows up to-day we will stay inthe harbor to-night, and I should like to have you and Miss Telly visither. " Then as the old man pushed off and pulled out of the cove withlong slow strokes, Albert watched him with a new interest. "Poor oldfellow, " he thought, "he is honest as the day is long, and has a heartof gold beneath his blunt speech. How hard he has to work for what hegets, and what a vile thing it was in Frye to rob him so!" When the oldman was out of sight Albert strolled over to the village. On the outerside of the harbor, and opposite where the houses were, he came to somelong rows of slat benches, and busy at work spreading split fish uponthem was the old lady who had thanked the Lord so fervently at theprayer-meeting. As she noticed Albert she paused and stood looking athim curiously. "Good morning, madam, " he said as he neared her; "youhave a nice day to dry your fish, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir; the Lord's bin good to me this summer, " she answered, stilleyeing him, and added quickly, "you be the young man from Bosting that'sstopping with Uncle Terry, I consider? I seen ye at the meeting lastnight with Telly. Do you belong to the world's people, or hev ye madeyer callin' and 'lection sure?"

It was rather a pointed query for so short an acquaintance, and Albertsmiled. "I hope I have some chance of being saved at last, " he replied, "but tell me, why do you ask? Do I look wicked?"

"Looks be mainly deceivin', " she answered, "but if your heart's with theLord, you're sure o' salvation. "

"You have a large lot of fish to care for, I see, " he replied, notwishing to discuss religion with this odd old lady, "and it must keepyou busy. "

"I need it, for the winter's comin' an' then there's no work for me, "she answered sadly, resuming her labor, "I'm counted as one o' theLord's poor then. "

Albert looked at the thin figure upon which hung a soiled and fadedcalico dress, and then at her white hair as she bent over her work, andthe pitiful sight and the pathos of her words touched him. "If you areone of the Lord's poor of this village, " he thought, "the Lord doesn'tdo much for you!" Then going to her and taking a ten-dollar bill out ofhis pocket he said kindly, "Miss Terry told me a little about you, Mrs. Leach, and for her sake I'm going to ask you to do me a favor. Here is alittle money, and please accept it as coming from the Lord. "

The old woman looked startled and as he held the money out, smilingkindly, her eyes filled with tears. "Your heart's in the right place andthe Lord'll surely bless ye for yer goodness, " she said as she took it, and then Albert, bidding her good morning, walked away. He littlerealized how soon that crust of bread, cast upon the waters, wouldreturn and bless him. 

For an hour he strolled around the harbor, watching the men at work onboats or fishing-gear, and sniffing the salt-sea odor of the oceanbreeze, and then returned to the point and began sketching thelighthouse. He was absorbed in that when he heard a sharp whistle, andlooking up, there was the "Gypsy" just entering the harbor. He ran tothe cove where he had left his boat, and by the time the yacht wasanchored, had pulled alongside. To his surprise no one was aboard butFrank. "Where are the rest of the boys?" he asked, as that young mangrasped his boat. Frank laughed. "Well, just about now they are playingtennis and calling 'fifteen love' and 'thirty love' with a lot of girlsdown at Bar Harbor. The fact is, Bert, " he continued as Albert steppedaboard, "our gander cruise has come to an end. They ran into some girlsthey knew, and after that all the 'Gypsy' was good for was a place toeat and sleep in. I've run her up here and shall let you keep her withyou until you get ready to go home. I'm going to cut stick forBethlehem, and if I can get one of the girls to go with me, I may visitSandgate. "

Albert laughed heartily. "Want to hear some one sing 'Ben Bolt' again?"he queried. 

"Well, maybe, " replied Frank; "the fact of the matter is, the whole triphas gone wrong from the start. You know what I wanted, but as itcouldn't be, I did the next best thing and made up this party, and nowthe cruise has ended in a fizzle. The boys have got girl on the brain, and I am disgusted. "

"No girl on your brain, " observed Albert dryly. 

"Well, that's different, " was the evasive answer, and then he addedsuddenly, "By the way, where is the girl with the wonderful eyes you methere? What about girl on your brain?"

"Just now I imagine she's helping her mother in the house, " answeredAlbert quietly; and then he added, "Well, what is the programme, andwhere are you going with the 'Gypsy'?"

"I want to be landed at the nearest port where I can reach a railroad, "answered Frank, "and then you can do as you please with her. My skipperwill do your bidding. "

"What about the rest of the boys?" asked Albert. 

"Well, " replied Frank, "you can run to Bar Harbor and dance with thegirls until the rest want to come back, or you can do as you please. The'Gypsy' is yours as long as you want her, after I'm ashore. I thinkI'll run up to Bath and take the night train for the mountains, if thereis one; if not, we will lie at Bath over night. "

"I must go ashore and leave word I am coming back, " said Albert; "thefact is, I've found a client in this Mr. Terry, and it's an importantmatter. "

"So is the blue-eyed girl, I imagine, " observed Frank with a drollsmile. When the irrepressible owner of the 'Gypsy' had deserted her, Albert returned to the Cape and remained there for a week. How manylittle trips he induced his new-found friends to take on her during thattime, how much gossip it created in the village, and how many happyhours he and Telly passed together, need not be told. The last day butone of his stay he invited everybody at the Cape, old or young, to goout on a short cruise, and nearly all accepted. Mrs. Leach, however, didnot come, and when Albert asked Telly the reason she answered quietly, "It's because the poor old soul is ashamed of her clothes. "

When the morning of his departure came Uncle Terry said, "I hope we'llsee ye soon, Mr. Page, and ye'r' sure of a welcome here, so don't forgetus, " and then he pulled away on his daily round to his traps. 

As it happened, when Albert was ready to start only Telly accompaniedhim to the cove where his boat was, and when she bade him good-by henoticed her voice trembled a little, and as he held her hand a moment, her face was turned away. When the yacht rounded the point she was therewaving an adieu and remained there until lost from sight. 

CHAPTER XXVI

THE MISER IN HIS DEN

The one point of pride in Nicholas Frye's nature was his absolute beliefin his own shrewdness. "They can't get the best of me, " he would say tohimself when he had won an unusually knotty case, and winking one of hiscat-like eyes he would say, half aloud, "I'm shrewd, I'm shrewd as thedevil!" He knew he was both hated and feared by his fellow-members ofthe bar, but it mattered not to him. Being hated he didn't mind, andbeing feared flattered his vanity to an intense degree. When Uncle Terryput himself in his power and, like a good-natured old sheep, stood to besheared, Frye only laughed at his client's stupidity and set out tocontinue the robbery as long as possible. Messrs. Thygeson & Company, ofStockholm, who had first employed him to hunt up an heir to the estateof old Eric Peterson, whose son Neils and his young wife had been loston the coast of Maine, fared no better. To them he only stated that hehad found several promising clues and was following them as rapidly aspossible, but it all cost money, and would they kindly send a draft onaccount for necessary expenses? etc. , etc. To shear them as close aspossible and as long as he could before giving any return for theirmoney was part of his game. All were fish that came to his net, and allwere treated alike and robbed from start to finish. When Albert hadturned his back upon him, and, worse than that, taken away his bestclient, as he afterwards learned, the old scoundrel suffered the worstblow to his vanity he ever received. "Curse the fellow!" he would say tohimself. "I'll pay him and have revenge if I live long enough, and I'llnever rest till I do. No man ever got the best of me, and in the longrun no man ever shall!" Like an Indian he bided his time, though waitingand watching with his merciless yellow eyes until the chance might comewhen he could deal a ruinous blow. 

But there is a Nemesis that follows evil-doers in this world, ready tostrike with an invisible hand all who are lost to the sense of right andjustice. In Frye's case the avenging goddess lurked in his inordinatebelief in his own shrewdness, coupled with a fatuous love ofspeculation. A few lucky ventures at first in the stock market hadfanned the flame until he believed he was as invincible in State Streetas he was in Pemberton Square. 

Then along came a war-cloud in Europe; stocks began to drop andprovisions to advance. September wheat was then selling in Chicago atninety cents. Frye bought fifty thousand bushels on a margin. France andGermany growled, and wheat rose to ninety-four. Frye sold, clearing twothousand dollars. Then it dropped a cent, and Frye bought a hundredthousand bushels more. Once again the war-cloud grew black, and wheatrose to ninety-eight. The papers were full of wild rumors, and "The WallStreet Bugle" said wheat would look cheap at a dollar and a half insideof a month. Then it advanced to one dollar, and Frye lost his head. Hisholdings showed a profit of seven thousand dollars, and sudden richesstared him in the face. Once more the two bellicose foreign powersgrowled and showed their teeth. Wheat rose another cent, and Fryedoubled his holdings. Then the powers that had growled smiled faintly, and in one day wheat fell to ninety-three and remained there. Frye'sholdings now showed a net loss of eight thousand dollars, and he kickedthe office boy out, locked the door in Pemberton Square, and from tentill three watched the quotations in State Street until wheat fell toninety, and then he began to look around to raise more money. He had nowput up over sixteen thousand dollars, and wheat was still falling. Atevery drop of a cent he was called upon for two thousand dollars. Day byday it vibrated, now going up a cent, and then dropping two, and whenUncle Terry and Albert were discussing how to checkmate his furtherrobbing of the lighthouse keeper, he was, with muttered curses, watchinghis ill-gotten gains vanish to the tune of many thousand dollars perdiem. He neglected his business, went without his meals, and forgot toshave. He had mortgaged his real estate for twenty thousand, and thatwas nearly gone. Wheat was now down to eighty, and France and Germanywere shaking hands. Frye was caught in a trap of his own setting andcould not sleep nights. His margins were almost exhausted, and hisresources as well. He had put up forty thousand dollars, and if wheatfell three cents more, it would be all swept away. Then he executed asecond mortgage at high interest and waited. It was the last shot in hislocker, and all that stood between him and ruin; but wheat advanced twocents and he began to hope. He had absolutely ignored business for twoweeks that had been one long stretch of misery, and now he went to workagain. To collect the little due him and raise all the money he couldwas his sole thought. He wrote to Thygeson & Company that he had at lastfound the heir they were in search of, and described what proofs heheld, at the same time stating that on receipt of his fee of a thousanddollars all and sufficient proofs of identity of the claimant would beforwarded. Then he wrote to Uncle Terry and demanded three hundred more. September wheat had now fallen to seventy-eight. 

CHAPTER XXVII

IN SHADY WOODS

Blanch Nason, Frank's younger sister, was his good friend andsympathizer, and in all the family discussions had usually taken hispart. His elder sister, Edith, was like her mother, rather arrogant andsupercilious, and considered her brother as lacking in family pride, andliable to disgrace them by some unfortunate alliance. It was to Blanchhe always turned when he needed sympathy and help, and to her atBethlehem he appeared the day after he had left the "Gypsy. " His comingsurprised her not a little. 

"Why, what has brought you here, Frank?" she asked. "I thought you werehaving high jinks down in Maine on the yacht, and playing cards everynight with your cronies!"

"Oh, that is played out, " he answered. "The boys are at Bar Harbor, having a good time. Bert is at a little unheard-of place saying sweetthings to a pretty girl he found there, and I got lonesome, so I cameup here to see you and get you to help me, " he added slyly. 

"I thought so, " answered Blanch, laughing; "you never did come to meunless you wanted help. Well, who is the girl now, and what do youwant?"

Frank looked surprised. 

"How do you know it is a girl?" he asked. 

"It usually is with you, " she answered, eyeing him curiously. "So outwith it. What's her name?"

"Alice Page, " he replied. 

"What, the girl you wanted us to invite to go on the yacht?" askedBlanch. 

"That's the one, " he replied, "and, as you know, she wouldn't come. "

"Which shows her good sense, " interrupted Blanch. "Well, what can I doin the matter?"

"Much, if you want to, and nothing, if you don't, " he answered. "Thefact is, sis, I want you to pack a trunk, and go with me to call on her. She is mighty proud, and I imagine that is why she turned the coldshoulder on my efforts to get her to come to Boston and meet you all. Now, if you go there, if only for one night, the ice will be broken, andof course you will invite her to visit you, and all will go well. "

"A nice little scheme, " responded Blanch, "but what will mamma and Edesay, do you think?"

"Oh, never mind them, " answered the plotter; "they need never know it. Just tell them you are going to Saratoga with me for a few days. We willgo there, if you like, only we will stop off at Sandgate on the way. Nowdo this for me, sis, and I'll buy you the earth when Christmas comes!"

"Well, you will have to stay here until Monday, " said Blanch, "and bereal nice to mamma and Ede all the time, or I can't fix it. Lucky foryou, Master Frank, that they are out driving now!"

"But why must we wait four days?" asked Frank petulantly. 

"Because, my love-lorn brother, " she replied, "in the first place Idon't want to miss the Saturday-night hop, and then we are booked for abuck-board ride to the Flume to-morrow. Another reason is, I mean to payyou for turning your back on us and going off on the 'Gypsy. '"

That afternoon our eager suitor wrote Alice the longest letter she hadever received, for it consisted of nine full pages. As most of it caneasily be imagined, there is no need to quote it; suffice it to say thatit was received with some pleasure and a little vexation by Alice. 

"Mr. Nason and his sister are coming here Monday, " said she to AuntSusan, "and we must put on our best bib and tucker, I suppose. But howwe can contrive to entertain his sister is beyond me. " Nevertheless, shewas rather pleased at the prospective visitation, for in a measure itwas a vindication of her own position. Then again as her school had beenclosed for over a month, her daily life was becoming decidedlymonotonous. When Albert had written regarding the invitation the Nasonshad extended, she believed it was due solely to Frank's influence, andwhen that young man tried to obtain her consent to join ayachting-party, providing his mother and sister decided to go, she wasmorally sure of it. But it made no difference, for if the supposedlyaristocratic Mrs. Nason had sent her a written invitation she was thelast person in the world to accept it. To so go out of her way for thepossible opportunity of allowing the only son of a rich family to paycourt to her was not characteristic of Alice Page. Rather a thousandtimes would she teach school in single blessedness all her life than beconsidered as putting herself in the way of a probable suitor. Of herown feelings toward Frank she was not at all sure. He was a good-lookingyoung fellow and no doubt stood well socially. At first she had felt alittle contempt for him, due to his complaints that he had hard work tokill time. When she received the letter announcing his determination tostudy law and become a useful man in the world she thought better ofhim. When he came up in June it became clear that he was decidedly inlove with her, for none of Mother Eve's daughters are ever long in doubton that point. So self-evident were his feelings that she at that timefelt compelled to avoid giving him a chance to express them. Her heartwas and always had been entirely free from the pangs of love, and whilehis devotion was in a way quite flattering, the one insurmountablebarrier was his family. Had he been more diplomatic he would never havetold her his mother frowned at him when he danced twice with a poorgirl; but unwisely he had; and to a girl of Alice's pride andpenetration, that was enough. "I am a poor girl, " she thought, when hemade the admission, "but I'll wear old clothes all my life before hishaughty mother shall read him a lecture for dancing twice with me. "

Ever since the day Mrs. Mears had related the village gossip to her, shehad thought a good many times about the cause of it, but to no one hadshe ever mentioned the matter since. Her only associate, good-naturedAbby Miles, had never dared to speak of it, and Aunt Susan was wiseenough not to, for which Frank ought to have been grateful, and no doubtwould have been, had he known it. Now that he and his fashionablesister were coming to Sandgate Alice felt a good deal worried. Firstly, she knew her own stock of gowns was inadequate--no young woman, especially if she be pretty, enjoys being overshadowed by another in thematter of dress, and Alice was no exception. While not vain of herlooks, --and she had ample reason to be, --she yet felt his sister wouldconsider her countrified in dress, or else realize the truth that shewas painfully poor. She had made the money her brother gave her go asfar as possible--that was not far. Her own small salary was not morethan enough to pay current expenses, and had he known how hard she hadcontrived to make one dollar do the work of two he would have pitiedher. When the day and train arrived, and she had ushered her two guestsinto their rooms, her worry began. A trunk had come, and as she busiedherself to help Aunt Susan get supper under way before she changed herdress, she was morally sure Miss Nason would appear in a gown fit for astate dinner. But when she was dressed and went out on the porch whereher guests were, she found Miss Blanch attired in a white muslin, severein its simplicity. It was a pleasant surprise, and then the matter ofdress no longer troubled her, for at no time during their stay did Alicefeel any reason to consider herself poorly clad in comparison. Of theconversation that evening, so little was said that is pertinent to thisnarrative that only a few utterances deserve space. Alice had the happyfaculty of finding out what subjects her guests were most interested inand kept them talking upon them. Blanch gave an interesting descriptionof her life at the Maplewood; who were there, what gowns the ladieswore; the hops, drives, tennis, croquet, and whist games; and when thattopic was exhausted Alice turned to Frank and said, "Now tell us aboutyour trip. "

"There is not much to tell, " he answered in a disappointed tone. "Thefact is my yachting-trip was a failure from start to finish. I hoped toinduce mother and the girls to go, and to coax you to join us, but thatplan failed. Then I made up a party of fellows and started. Two of themplayed banjos, and that, with singing, fishing, and cards, I thoughtwould make a good time. I had a two weeks' trip all mapped out, no endof stores on board, and anticipated lots of fun; but it didn'tmaterialize. The second day Bert got left on the island, and we didn'tfind him until the next day. In the meantime he had found a pretty girland acted as if he had become smitten with her. Then we ran to BarHarbor, and the rest of the boys found some girls they knew, and decidedat once that a gander cruise had lost its charms; so I threw up myhands, and you know the rest. I turned the 'Gypsy' over to Bert, and forall I know or care he is using her to entertain his island fairy. I hopeso, anyhow. But I've got the merry ha-ha on him all right, and if heever rings the changes on a certain subject, he'll hear it, too. " Whatthat certain subject was Alice did not see fit to ask, but joined withBlanch in a good laugh at Frank's dolorous description of his trip andits Waterloo at the hands of a few girls. 

"It seems you can't get along without us much despised creatures, "observed Blanch, "and if you had come to Bethlehem in the first placeyou would have had a good time. There were no end of pretty girls at theMaplewood, and eligible Romeos were scarce as white crows. "

"I never said I could get along without girls, " replied Frank, a littlepiqued, "only I wanted girls to go on my yacht, that was all. "

"And as the mountain wouldn't come to Mahomet, " put in Blanch, "why, Mahomet came to Bethlehem. "

When the chit-chat slowed down Alice said, "I don't know how toentertain you two good people in this dull place, though I want to verymuch. There are mountains and woods galore and lots of pretty drives. And, " looking at Frank, "I know where there is a nice mill-pond full oflilies, and an old moss-covered mill, and a miller that looks like apicture in story books. There is also a drive to the top of themountain, where the view is simply grand. I have a steady-going andfaithful old horse, and we will go wherever you like. "

"Do not worry about me, Miss Page, " replied Blanch, "if I can seemountain, and woods, I am perfectly happy. "

When the evening was nearing its close Frank begged Alice to sing, butshe at first declined. 

"Do you play or sing, Miss Nason?" she asked cautiously. 

"Oh, please don't be afraid of me, " was the answer, "I never touched apiano in my life. Once in a while I join in the chorus, as they say, formy own amusement and the amazement of others, but that is all. "

It wasn't all, for she played the guitar and sang sweetly, but kept thattalent to herself on this occasion. Finally Alice was persuaded to openthe piano, and then out upon the still night air there floated many anold-time ballad. After that she played selections from a few of thelatest light operas that Frank had sent her, and then turned away. "Oh, don't stop now, " exclaimed both her guests at once, "sing a few moresongs. " Then with almost an air of proprietorship Frank arose, and goingto the piano searched for and found a well-worn song. Without a word heopened and placed it on the music rack. It was "Ben Bolt"! A faint colorrose in Alice's face, but she turned and played the prelude without aword. When she had sung the first verse, to her surprise Blanch wasstanding beside her, and joined her voice in the next one. When it wasfinished, Frank insisted on a repetition, and after that all three sanga dozen more of the sweet old-time songs, so familiar to all. Then Aliceleft the room to bring in a light lunch, and Frank seized theopportunity to say, "Well, sis, what do you think?"

"I think, " she replied, "that you were foolish to go yachting at all. IfI had been you I should have come up here in the first place, stayed atthe hotel, and courted her every chance I could. I am in love with hermyself, and we haven't been here six hours. "

To her surprise Frank stepped up to her quickly and, taking her face inhis hands, kissed her. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

WHERE THE LILIES GROW

Two days of Alice's visitation passed like a summer breeze. The firstday they drove to the old mill and spent the entire forenoon gatheringlilies and watching the great wheel that dripped and clattered betweenits moss-grown walls. It was a curiosity to Blanch, for never in herlife had she seen one of those old-time landmarks, now so rare. Thatafternoon they drove to the mountain's top and saw the sunset, only tobe late home to Aunt Susan's tea biscuit and cold chicken, and having asurprising appetite. The next day they made a picnic trip to anothermountain, leaving the horse half way up and walking the rest of the way. At noon they returned, and beside a cold spring that bubbled beneath arock they opened their lunch baskets. Then they picked flowers, huntedfor wintergreen, and decked the horse and wagon with ferns and wreathsof laurel, --only simple country pleasures, it is true, but they at leasthad the charm of newness for two of the party. That evening they sangall sorts of songs, from gospel hymns to comic operas, and Blanch showedin so many ways that she admired her new-found friend that there was nofurther restraint. 

"I wish you would stay with me until my school begins, Blanch, " saidAlice at the close of the evening. "If you knew how lonely I am, I amsure you would. "

"I might be persuaded to make a longer visit next summer, " was theanswer, "if you will return this visit next winter; will you?"

"I won't promise now, " answered Alice, "I am afraid I should be out ofplace in your society. I'm only a country girl, you know. "

"I shall feel hurt if you don't, " responded Blanch. 

When two girls who have known one another but four days begin using eachother's first names, it may be considered that they are growing fond ofeach other. It was so in this case, and the remark that Blanch had madethe first evening to her brother was sincere. 

In the goodness of her heart she had also refrained from wearing herbest frocks, fearing that Alice might feel herself overshadowed, andthat is an act of consideration of which few of the fair sex arecapable. 

"I should like to see that schoolhouse Frank has spoken of severaltimes, " she said a little later, "and that barefoot girl he told about. "

It was the first allusion to his interest in her that Blanch had made, and Alice colored; a trifle that did not escape her friend's eye. 

"We will drive by where that girl lives to-morrow, " responded Alice, "and if you like, will call and see her. It would please her mother verymuch, and really the girl is worth it. She is the most original littleold woman in my school. "

The next morning when Frank and his sister were alone for a few momentsshe said, "I am going to do you a good turn to-day, Sir Mahomet, andhave a headache, " and, laughing a little, "if you are wise you willimprove your opportunities and persuade your 'Sweet Alice' to go afterpond lilies and leave me here. I noticed a most charming spot for a_tête-à-tête_ on one side of that pond the other day, and I guess youcan find it if you try. It's a mossy bank under a big tree, and out ofsight of the old mill. " Was ever brother blessed with a better sister!

But the wary Alice was not to be caught so easily. 

"I could not think of going after lilies, " she replied when he proposedthe trip, "and leaving your sister alone; and then it is almost too warmto be out in the sun this morning. If she feels better this afternoon wewill go there when the sun gets part way down. "

When Blanch obtained a chance she said to her brother with a wise look, "Now I know why you couldn't coax your pretty schoolma'am to come toBoston. She's too keen to walk into any trap, and I like her all thebetter for it. But leave the matter to me. I'll give you a chance, andwhen you see it, seize it quick, talk fast, and don't be afraid. Shewon't allow herself to be left long alone with you while I am here. "

True to her sisterly interest, Blanch kept quiet all the morning andafter dinner was the first to propose another trip to the lily pond. "Iam in love with that old mill, " she said, "and I want to see it when thesun gets down so it will be shady there. "

When they reached the spot she at once developed an unusual interest inthe mill and began an animated conversation with the miller regarding itand all its history. 

"You two go after the lilies, " she said when Frank had the boat ready, "and leave me here. I'm afraid the sun on the water will bring back myheadache. "

A wee little frown crept over the face of Alice, for she saw through theplot, but she answered gayly, "All right, only your smiles will bewasted on the miller. He is too old to appreciate them. We won't begone long, " she added as she stepped into the boat. She surmised thatBlanch's headache was a ruse instigated by her admirer, and this suddeninterest in the mill's history only another, and, on guard ever, determined to check any and all serious words from him. And now whatspirit of mischief had come over her? She joked and jested on all mannerof subjects--the boat, his rowing, Blanch's interest in the miller, andher blue eyes sparkled with roguish intent. She bared one round arm tothe elbow, and pulling every bud and blossom she could reach, pelted hercavalier with them. 

"Did you learn that stroke at college, " she asked, when one of his oarsslipped and he nearly fell backwards, "or is that the way a yachtsmanalways rows?"

In response to all this he said but little, for he was thinking how bestto say what was on his mind. He had resolved to declare himself at thefirst chance, and now that he had one his heart was like to fail him. When he reached the spot Blanch had referred to he headed the boat forthe shore and as it came to a stop he said, "Let's get out and sit onthe bank, Miss Page. I want to rest. "

"Oh, we must not stop, " answered his tormentor; "it's almost sundown, and besides, I want more lilies. "

She made no move to arise, but kept prodding a lily pad in the waterbeside her with one taper finger. By some chance, too, her broad sun-hatwas well down over her face. Frank was silent while he looked at thepiquant figure with half-hidden face and bare arm, sitting so near him. One little foot peeped out beneath her dress, one hand held fast to theboat while the other toyed with the green pad, and back of her lay thestill pond dotted with countless blossoms. Only the tip of her nosecould be seen, and beneath it two red lips about which lingered aroguish smile. 

His heart beat a little faster, and almost did it fail him. 

"Won't you get out, Miss Page?" he asked at last, rather doggedly. "I'vesomething I want to say to you and--and it's nice to sit in the shadeand talk. "

The break had come and she could evade him no longer. Without a word oreven a look she arose and, taking his proffered hand, stepped out of theboat. And strange to say, he retained that moist hand as if to lead herto a seat. Only a few steps up a mossy bank offered its temptation, andwith quick gallantry he drew his coat off and spread it for her to situpon. 

"It's nice and cool here, " she said, "but we must not stay long. Blanchwill be waiting. "

In a way it was an unwise speech, for it recalled his sister's warningto talk fast and not be afraid. As is usual with most lovers, he hadthought many times of what he would say, and how he would say it; butnow that the critical moment had come, his well-chosen words vanished. He had remained standing, and for a moment looked at Alice as she satwith hat-hidden face, and then his heart-burst came. 

"Miss Page, " he said in a low voice, "you must know what I want to sayand--and I've come all the way from Maine to say it, and can you--isthere any hope for me in your feelings? Is there just a little?"

He paused, but no answer came, only her head sank a trifle lower and noweven the tip of her chin was invisible beneath the hat. It may be themovement emboldened him, for in an instant he was beside her on theground and had one hand a prisoner. 

"Tell me, Alice, " he pleaded, "is there any chance for me? Say just oneword--only one! Say 'yes'!"

The prisoned hand was at his lips now, and then she raised her face andoh, divine sight! those blue eyes were filled with tears!

One instant flash of heaven only, and then a change came. Almost had sheyielded, but not quite, for now she arose quickly and turning away saidhalf petulantly, "Oh, please don't speak of that now and spoil ourvisit. Let us go back to the mill. "

But still he held the little hand, and as she tried to draw it away hesaid pitifully: "Do you mean it, Alice? Is it no? Oh, don't let me goaway without one word of hope!"

Then she raised her one free arm, and resting it against a nearby treepressed her face upon it and almost whispered, "Oh, don't ask me now! Ican't say 'yes' and I can't say 'no'!"

"I shall believe that your heart says 'yes, '" he responded quickly, slipping one arm around her waist, "and until you do say 'no' I shallkeep on loving you just the same. "

But he had not won her yet, for she drew herself away, and turning apiteous face toward him exclaimed, "Don't, please, say another word now, or I shall hate myself as long as I live if you do!"

For one moment he stood dumfounded, and then it all dawned upon him. "Forgive me, sweet Alice, " he said softly, "for speaking too soon. Ibelieve I know why you feel as you do, and I shall go away hoping thatin time you will come to know my mother better. And since you have saidthat you can't say 'no, ' I shall anticipate that some time it will be'yes. ' Now we will go and gather lilies. "

Then as he led her to the boat once more his arm stole around her waist, and this time she did not try to escape its pressure. 

When two days afterward the brother and sister were ready to depart, Blanch put one arm caressingly around Alice and whispered, "Nowremember, you have promised to make me a visit next winter, and you mustkeep your promise. "

And poor Romeo, standing by, had to look the love that was in his heartwhile he envied his sister her parting kiss. 

CHAPTER XXIX

A FRIEND AT COURT

When Frank and his sister were away from Sandgate she said, "Well, mydear Ben Bolt, did you capture your sweet Alice that afternoon I told somany fibs to help you? I know you must have made an effort, for sheshowed it plainly. "

"No, I did not, " he answered frankly, "but I made a break, and as shedidn't take it amiss, I feel hopeful. The fact is, sis, " he continuedruefully, "she is the most proud-spirited girl I ever met, and mother isthe ogre that stands in the way. If mother approves of Alice I am allright, but if she doesn't receive her with open arms, it's all day withme. "

"I could have told you that the day after we arrived there, " answeredBlanch, "and I am not surprised. Now"--with a laugh--"you must courtmamma for a few months, as well as your pretty Alice. It will do yougood, for you never have been over-dutiful. "

Frank frowned. "Oh, bother these finicky mothers!" he exclaimed. "Whywill they turn up their noses at every poor girl? If Alice had richparents she would be all right, no matter if she were as homely as ahedge fence. "

"Maybe that's so, " answered Blanch, "but you can't change mamma, and ifyou want to win your Alice you must do as I tell you and court mamma. Now I will tell you what to do, and if you're good to me I'll help youdo it. In the first place you must stay at Bethlehem until we go home, and do all you can to please your mother. Take her driving, ask her toplay whist with you, and when she makes a good play, praise it; carryher wraps for her; be solicitous about her welfare and comfort in allthings, and treat her just as if she were Alice instead of mamma. Itwon't be as pleasant, but it will be good practice for you. Then whenshe is well cared for, act downcast at times and depressed. Wait a fewdays before working the melancholy act--that's enough to provoke herinterest--and don't say much to other girls. Dance with Ede and me andsay sweet things to mamma for a week. Then some day take her out for adrive and act as if you had lost your last friend. She will inevitablyask what ails you; but don't tell her too quickly--let her coax you alittle, and after a while make a clean breast of it. 

"I would suggest you insinuate the girl has favored your suit, but haspractically said 'no, ' because she is too proud to marry into a richfamily. That will do more to pique mamma's interest in the matter thanvolumes of praise for Alice. Don't say too much, but if she questionsyou about her, answer frankly to the point, but convey the impressionthat you consider your case hopeless, and leave the rest to me. "

Frank looked at his sister in silent admiration. "I didn't know you hadsuch a wise head on your shoulders, " he said at last, "or cared so muchfor me. "

It was a nice thing to say, and well deserved, for few brothers ever dohave better sisters than Frank was blessed with; and if more impetuousyoung men would make confidants of their mothers or sisters in mattersmatrimonial, and heed their advice, there would be fewer divorces. 

When Frank and Blanch had made a short stop at Saratoga, "just to beable to say so, " as Blanch said, they returned to Bethlehem and thelittle domestic drama began. At first it was not much to Frank's liking, but as it progressed he grew interested in watching the surprisingeffect it had on his proud mother. To have her only son, and a handsomeyoung fellow at that, show her so much devotion before crowds ofpeople, gladdened her heart in a wonderful way, and as it was soonnoticed and commented upon to her, it flattered her amazingly. She hadknown that Frank was from the first a little smitten with this sister ofhis college chum; but as he had had several mild cases of being smittenbefore, she thought nothing of it. With wise motherly caution, she tookgood care to ask no questions, even when Blanch told her they hadvisited Alice on their way to Saratoga. When the denouement came shewas, as Blanch had predicted, completely taken aback. It was a decidedlynew experience to her to learn that any girl could turn her back uponher son's suit because he came from a wealthy and aristocratic family. While it surprised her a good deal, it also awakened her admiration forthat girl still more. The one dread of her life had been that herimpetuous son would make an unfortunate alliance and disgrace thefamily. She made but little reply to his love-lorn tale, except to laughat him and assure him he would soon overcome it; but that night in theprivacy of her room she questioned Blanch in a sly way very amusing tothat shrewd daughter. 

"Frank has not made me his confidant, " Blanch replied, "only I noticedhe was very attentive to Miss Page, while she seemed to avoid beingleft alone with him a moment. She is one of the sweetest and prettiestgirls I've met in a long time, and also one of the proudest. I quitefell in love with her at sight, and am sure Frank has; but so far as Isaw, she gave him no encouragement. She is poor, pretty, and proud; andthat tells the whole story. I imagined she believed she would not bewelcomed by you, and while I begged her to come and visit me, I doubt ifshe does. " (A fib. )

This practically ended the first part of the play, though Frank noticedhis mother watched him more closely and showed an increased tendernesstowards him. 

"Keep on courting mamma, " Blanch whispered to him one evening when theywere alone, "she is watching you to see if you mean it, and is bothsurprised and pleased. As I expected, she has quizzed me, and if youconvince her you are in earnest, and are really the discarded andforlorn lover you affect to be, it will end by her writing your sweetAlice a personal letter of invitation to visit us. Seriously, too, Ibelieve that will be the only thing that will bring your schoolma'am toBoston, or at least to our house. "

When the last of August came and the Nasons returned to Boston, Frankand his mother were far better friends, and the most surprised one ofthe four was Edith, who was not in the secret. 

"What has come over Frank?" she said to Blanch one day; "he has neverbeen so well-behaved before in his life. First he quit idling and beganto study law as if he meant to be somebody; then he deserted his crowdof cronies for us and has acted as if we were his sole care in life eversince! What is the meaning of it, Blanch?"

"I haven't the least idea, " answered that arch plotter, "and it seems sogood to have him devoted to us that I am not going to ask any questions. I am not disposed to act as foolish as the boy did who cut his drum opento find out what made the noise, or to find out what Frank's reasons arefor doing what he ought to do, and I would advise you not to. " All ofwhich goes to show that far-seeing Blanch was capable of managing hermother and sister equally well. 

CHAPTER XXX

NEMESIS

 "And round and round the caldron The weird passions dance, And the only god they worship Is the mystic god of chance. "

The last day of August dawned fair in busy Boston. Summer sojournerswere returning. John Nason's store was filled with new fall styles; theshoppers were crowding the streets, and the hustling, bustling life of agreat city was at flood tide. Albert Page, full of business, was in hisoffice, and Frank Nason was studying hard again, cheered by a new andsweet ray of hope. Small fortunes were being won and lost on StateStreet, and in one smoke-polluted broker's office Nicholas Frye satwatching the price of wheat. The September option opened that day atseventy-eight and one-quarter, rose to seventy-nine, fell to seventy-sixand seven-eighths, rose to seventy-eight and then dropped back toseventy-six. He had margined his holdings to seventy-one, and if it fellto that price his sixty thousand dollars would be gone and he--ruined. For many nights he had had but little sleep, and that made hideous bydreams filled with the unceasing whir and click, click, click of theticker. At times he had dreamed that a tape-like snake with endlesscoils was twining itself about him. He was worn and weary with the longnervous strain and misery of seeing his fortune slowly clipped away bythe clicker's tick that had come to sound like the teeth of so manylittle devils snapping at him. To let his holdings go, he could not, and, lured on and on by the broker's daily uttered assertion that "wheat_could_ not go much lower, but must have a rally soon, " he had keptputting up margins. Now all he could possibly raise was in the broker'shands, and when that was gone, all was lost. 

Frye sat and watched the blackboard where the uneven columns ofquotations looked like so many little legs ever growing longer. Aroundhim were a score of other men--no, insane fools--watching the figuresthat either made them curse their losses or gloat over their gains. Noone spoke to another; no one cared whether another won or lost in thegreat gambling game that daily ruins its thousands. 

It was the caldron filled with lies, false reports, fictitious sales, and the hope and lust of gain that boiled and bubbled, heated by thefires of hell. And ever around that caldron the souls of men werecircling, cursing their losses and gloating over their gains. 

And Frye was muttering curses. 

At eleven o'clock wheat stood at seventy-five and one-half; ateleven-thirty, seventy-four and seven-eighths; at twelve, seventy-four. 

Frye arose, and going to a nearby room, all mirrors and plate-glass, called at the bar for brandy. Two full glasses he tossed off like somuch water, and then returned to his watching. 

Wheat was seventy-three and three-quarters!

But the fickle goddess of chance loves to sport with her victims, andwheat rose to seventy-five again; then fell to seventy-four, andvibrated between that and seventy-five for an hour. Frye was growingdesperate, and his deep-set yellow eyes glared like those of a cat atnight. The market closed at two. It was now one-thirty, and wheat wasseventy-three and three-quarters. 

Frye went out again, and two more glasses of brandy were added to hisdelirium. 

Wheat was now seventy-three and one-half!

Then, as once more he fixed his vulture eyes on that long column offigures, at the foot of which was seventy-three and one-half, thedevil's teeth began a more vicious snapping, and so fast came thequotations that the boy could no longer record them. Instead, he calledthem out in a drawling sing-song:

"September wheat now seventy-three, --the half, --five-eighths, --ahalf, --five-eighths split, --now a half, --three-eighths, --aquarter, --seventy-three!" Frye set his feet hard together, and clinchedhis hands. Only two cents in price stood between him and the loss of allhis twenty years' saving. All the lies he had told for miserable gain, all the miserly self-denial he had practised, all the clients he hadcheated and robbed, all the hatred he had won from others availed himnot. His contemptible soul and his life, almost, now hung by a miserlytwo cents. 

Once more the devil's teeth clicked, and once more the boy's drawl roseabove the ticker's whir. 

"Seventy-three, --a quarter, --an eighth, --seventy-three, --now seventy-twoseven-eighths, --three-quarters, --five-eighths, --three-quarterssplit, --now five-eighths, --a half, --a half. "

And now pandemonium was raging in the Chicago wheat pit, and theticker's teeth clicked like mad. 

"Seventy-two, --a half, --a half, --three-eighths, --ahalf, --three-eighths, --a quarter, --seventy-two!"

Cold beads of sweat gathered on Frye's forehead. One cent more and hewas ruined!

Again the ticker buzzed like a mad hornet, and again the devil's teethsnapped. 

"September wheat now seventy-one seven-eighths, --seven-eighths, --three-quarters, --seven-eighths split, --now the three-quarter, --five-eighths, --a half, --a half, --five-eighths, --a half, --a halfagain, --three-eighths, --a quarter, --an eighth, --a quarter, --an eighth, --a quarter, --an eighth, --an eighth, --a quarter split, --an eighth, --

"SEVENTY-ONE!!!"

FRYE WAS RUINED. 

He gave one low moan, the first, last, and only one during those threelong weeks of agony!

A few who sat near heard it, but did not even look at him, so lost werethey to all human feeling. The devil's teeth kept snapping, the endlesscoils of tape kept unwinding; the boy continued his drawl, but Frye paidno heed. Only those spider-legs on the wall seemed kicking at him, andthat fatal seventy-one, one, one kept ringing in his ears. He arose, andstaggered out into that palace of glass again and swallowed more brandy. Then jostling many, but seeing no one, he, with bowed head, made his wayto his office, opened, entered, and locked the door, and sat down. 

Whir-r-r-r-r!!!

Click, click, click!!!

Seventy-one, one, one! It was the last he heard, and then he sankforward on his desk in a drunken stupor. 

At this moment Uncle Terry, with Frye's letter in his pocket, andrighteous wrath in his heart, was speeding toward Boston as fast assteam could carry him. 

The clear incisive strokes of an adjacent clock proclaiming midnightawoke Frye. He raised his head, and in that almost total darkness for amoment knew not where he was. Then, ere the echoes of those funeralknells died away, he arose, lit the two gas-jets, and sat down. 

Seventy-one, one, one!!

They brought it all back to him, and now, alone in his misery, hegroaned aloud, and with his despair came the dread of the morrow, whenhe, the once proud and defiant man, must go forth crushed, broken, despairing, penniless!

All would know it, and all would rejoice. Out of the many that hated orfeared him, not one would feel a grain of pity, and well he knew it. Hecould almost see the looks of scorn on their faces, and hear them say, "Glad of it! Served him right, the old reprobate!"

Then his past life came back to him. He had never married, and since hehad looked down upon his dead mother's face, no woman's hand had soughthis with tenderness. All his long life of grasping greed had been spentin money-getting and money-saving. No sense of right or justice had everrestrained him; but only the fear of getting caught had kept him fromdownright stealing. Year after year he had added to his hoard, carefullyinvested it, and now in a few days of desperate dread it had all beenswept away!

Then perhaps the memory of that mother, as he had seen her last, withpallid face and folded arms, brought to him the first and only goodimpulse he ever felt, for he took a pen and wrote a brief but valuableletter. Then he went to his tall safe, opened both doors, and taking asmall, flat packet from an inner till, returned to his desk, placed thatand the letter in one long envelope, and sealed and directed it. 

And now all the misery and despair of his situation returned withintense force, and as it crushed him down, obliterating every vestige ofhope, once more his head sank forward on the desk and he groaned aloud. For a long time he remained thus, living over the past three weeks ofagony, and then there smote upon his tortured nerves the sound of manyclocks striking one. It sounded as if they were mocking him, and fromfar and near--some harsh and sharp, some faint in the distance--camethat fatal one, one, one! He arose and, going to a small locker in hisroom, grasped a half-filled bottle of liquor and drank deeply. It onlymade matters worse, for now an uncanny delirium crept into hisrum-charged brain and he fancied himself looking into an open grave andthere, at the bottom, lay a wasted woman's body, the face shrunken andpallid and teeth showing in mocking grin. Then he seemed to be lyingthere himself, looking up, and peering down at him were the faces ofmany men, some bearing the impress of hate, and some of derisivelaughter. 

And one was Albert Page, with a look of scorn. 

He arose again, and taking a letter-opener, crowded bits of paper intothe keyhole of the door and up and down the crack. Then he closed theone window, turned out the two gas-jets, and opened the stop-cocksagain. An odor of gas soon pervaded the room into which came only afaint light from the State House dome. And now a more hideoushallucination came to that hopeless, despairing man, for between theopen doors of his tall safe stood the wasted form of his mother! Hergray hair was combed flat on either side of her ashen face, a gray dresscovered her attenuated frame, and her arms were folded cross-wise overher bosom as he had seen her last, but now her eyes were wide open, yellow, and glassy. Then slowly, very slowly, she seemed to move towardhim, her eyes fixed on his, piercing his very soul. Nearer, nearer, nearer she came, until now, rising above him, she stooped as if to touchhis lips with the kiss of death. He could not breathe or move, consciousonly that an awful horror was upon him and a tiny mallet beating on hisbrain. 

Then that hideous, deathly, pallid face, cold and clammy, was pressedupon his, the faint light seemed to fade into darkness, and he knew nomore. 

CHAPTER XXXI

THE GLAD HAND

Albert Page had just finished reading his morning mail the first day ofSeptember, when his office door opened and he saw the genial face ofUncle Terry enter. 

"Well, well!" exclaimed Albert, springing to his feet and advancing tomeet his caller. "How are you, Uncle Terry?" Then, as he seized thatman's hand in both of his, and shook it heartily, he added in onebreath, "How is your good wife and Telly, and when did you arrive, andwhy didn't you let me know so I could meet you?"

"Wal, " answered Uncle Terry, seating himself, "I got in purty late lastnight an' put up at a tavern near the depot. "

"But why didn't you write or wire me, so I could have met you at thetrain and taken care of you?" asked Albert. 

"The fact on't is, " replied Uncle Terry, removing his hat and laying iton the floor beside him, "I've allus pulled my own boat in this world, an' it sorter goes agin the grain now to hist the oars over to 'notherfellow. " Then reaching into his pocket, drawing out a letter, andhanding it to Albert, he added, "'Bout two weeks ago I got this 'erefrom that dum thief Frye. I was 'spectin' the gov'ment boat 'long mostevery day, and so couldn't cum any sooner. "

Albert read the letter and gave a low whistle. "Frye must have beeneither very hard up when he wrote, " he said, "or else the other partiesare crowding him and this is his last effort to fleece you. I have heardthat he has been speculating in wheat lately, and it may be he has gotcaught. I hope so, for it will be easier for us to bring him to terms. Ihave my plans all mapped out and I think we had best go for him at once, while he is likely to be in his office. " Then calling to Frank, andrapidly writing a check for five hundred dollars, while that surprisedyoung man was shaking hands with Uncle Terry, he continued: "Please goup to the station, Frank, and get an officer at once, and step into theMaverick Bank on your way back and get this check cashed. We will goprepared for the worst. "

When Frank had gone Uncle Terry said, "There wa'n't no need o' yergettin' money, Mr. Page; I've brung three hundred, which is all thecut-throat asked fur. "

"We may need more, nevertheless, " answered Albert, "and as I wish tomake but one visit to Frye's office, it's best to go prepared. He mayask more now. " Then after filling out a writ of replevin he added, "Excuse me a moment, Mr. Terry; I will be back soon. "

He was absent perhaps five minutes, and then Uncle Terry was astonishedto see a strange man enter from an inner room. He wore a full blackbeard, smoked glasses, broad slouch hat, and a clerical coat, which wasbuttoned close to his chin. Uncle Terry looked at him in surprise, waiting for the stranger to speak. 

"Don't you know me, Uncle Terry?" said the new arrival. 

"By gosh! it's you, Mr. Page, " exclaimed the old man, "or else I'm tuckwith a change o' heart. " Then he added with a laugh, "I'd never known ye'cept for yer voice. "

"I'm all right, then, I guess, " said Albert, "and now for my plan. Whenthe officer comes we four will go at once to Frye's office. You will goin alone and open matters; contrive to leave the door ajar, and when youget to talking the rest of us will creep up and listen. And here iswhere your wits must work well. Act as though you did not suspectanything wrong, but tell him you are discouraged and have put out allthe money you can; also that you are poor and can't afford to waste anymore on what you believe to be a hopeless case. Then ask him to returnyou the trinkets you gave him, as the girl values them highly, and righthere is where you must contrive to get Frye to admit he has thesetrinkets. Most likely he will refuse to give them up until his fee ispaid, and he may ask quite a sum. If you can settle the matter by payinghim one or two hundred dollars I should advise it, but not more. If itcomes to his refusal we will walk in at that point and the officer willserve the writ. We can search his premises, and even make him open hissafe, and if we find what we want, we will take it. If not, we arecheckmated, and must find who employed him and appeal to them. "

When Frank and the officer returned, and the former had also donned adisguise, the four proceeded at once to Frye's office. It was early, andnone of the other office occupants on that floor had arrived. As agreed, Uncle Terry knocked at Frye's door alone, but no one answered. Heknocked again; still no answer. He tried the door; it was locked. Thenhe knocked harder; no reply. Then he stepped back to where the otherswere waiting. "Thar's nobody in thar, " he whispered, "or if thar is he'sasleep!" Albert went forward and listened; there was no sound. Then hestooped and tried to look through the keyhole; it was plugged. 

"I smell gas coming out of the keyhole, " he whispered to the officer;"you go and try it. "

The officer did so. Then he took out a pocket knife and thrust the bladethrough the keyhole and peeped in. Then he beckoned to Albert. 

"Something's wrong in there, Mr. Page, " he said. "I can see a man'slegs, and the gas is coming out of that keyhole enough to choke you. We'd best call the janitor. "

That official was found, and he too peeped. 

"I noticed a light in Frye's office when I retired last night, " he said;"depend upon it, there is something wrong. " Then turning to the officerhe added, "You are an officer of the law, and as I am in charge of thisbuilding I give you permission to open Frye's door on the score ofpublic safety. "

The burly officer waited for no further orders, but, grasping the knob, threw his whole weight against the door, and it gave way. A cry ofsurprise escaped him, and as the rest crowded up they saw a hideoussight. Frye was sitting in his chair with head thrown back staring atthe ceiling, and with mouth and eyes wide open! The room was stiflingwith gas, and the officer opened the window. In doing so he noticed thetwo stop-cocks were opened and he turned them off. Then he returned tothe hall. When the room was fit to breathe in again, all four entered, and the officer laid his hand upon Frye's face. 

"Dead, " he exclaimed, "and has been for hours!"

Then as the others crowded up to gaze at the face, which bore a look ofinexpressible agony, Albert noticed an envelope on Frye's desk directedto Silas Terry. He quietly put it in his pocket and joined with the restin a search of the room. 

"It looks like a case of suicide, " observed the officer, "door locked, keyhole and cracks plugged, window shut, and two gas-burners open! Safeunlocked and wide open, and here's a till with money in it!"

Then taking up a bundle of papers that lay in this till and examiningthem he gave a long whistle and exclaimed, "Here's a contract for fiftythousand bushels of wheat bought in Chicago at ninety-eight cents, andwheat closed yesterday at seventy-one! And here are two more lots, onefor one hundred thousand bushels!" Then handing the certificates toAlbert he added, "Old Nick has been bulling wheat, and if he has beenholding on to these purchases for the last three weeks, I don't wonderhe has taken gas!" And then, as a crowd had gathered, and were gazing atthe ghastly staring face of Frye, made ten times more hideous in deaththan in life, he added, "In the name of the law I must close the doorand notify a coroner. "

When Albert, with Uncle Terry and Frank, reached his office he drew theletter he had taken from Frye's desk out of his pocket and handed it toUncle Terry. "It was directed to you, " he said, "and I thought best tobring it away. "

When the old man opened it he exclaimed, "By the great eternal jumpin'Jehosaphat, if here ain't the hull o' the things we want so bad, and aletter to some furriners! Here, you read it, Mr. Page; the writin'swussen crow tracks in the mud. "

The letter was as follows:

 MESSRS. THYGESON & COMPANY, _Stockholm_:

 GENTLEMEN: I have good and sufficient reason to believe an heir to the estate in your hands exists in the person of a young woman now living with one Silas Terry, a lighthouse keeper on Southport Island, Maine, and known as Telly Terry. This person, when a babe, was saved from a wreck by this man Terry and by him cared for and brought up. A report of the wreck and the saving of one life (the child's) was made at the time by this man Terry, and is now on file in Washington. As I am going away on a long journey, I turn this matter over to you for further investigation, and subscribe myself, Respectfully yours, NICHOLAS FRYE. 

When Albert had finished the reading of this important letter aloud hegrasped Uncle Terry's hand and exclaimed: "Telly's heritage is saved forher, and for that I forgive Frye for all the wrongs he has done you andme. "

As for Uncle Terry he remarked, "Wal, he cost me four hundred, but I'llforgive him that now, an' mighty glad to do it. " Then he added with achuckle, "He must 'a' had a sudden change o' heart, and if the WidderLeach hears on't she'll swear 'twas the workings o' the Lord on asinner's mind. He looked as though he'd seen some awful sight. "

When the tragic end of Frye had been duly commented upon, Albert said toUncle Terry, "Take those valuables back with you, but leave me theletter and I will attend to the rest. " Then he added, "You are my guestas long as you can stay in Boston, and now we can go sight-seeing with alight heart. "

How earnestly Albert set about entertaining Uncle Terry, and howthoroughly the old man enjoyed it all, need not be enlarged upon. Whentwo days later he was ready to depart, Albert handed him a largepackage containing a silk dress pattern for Aunt Lissy, a woolen one forMrs. Leach, and a complete artist's outfit for Telly. "With thesethings, " he said, "go my best regards for those they are for, and amongthem are the photographs of two sketches I made when I was with you thatI want you to ask Miss Telly to paint for me. "

When she opened her package she found two sketches of herself, oneleaning against a rock with her face resting on her hand, and the othersitting beside a flower-decked boat with a broad sun-hat in her lap. 

CHAPTER XXXII

THE DEMNITION GRIND

Life should not be all work, neither can it be all play and beenjoyable, as Frank Nason found to his sorrow. Whether a realizing senseof the scant respect Alice Page had for an idler, or his own experiencein that role, opened his eyes first, is hard to say. It is likely thatboth had weight, and it is not to his discredit if the possibleapprobation of Alice was the sole cause of his changed ideas. That hewished her to feel it was, is certain, as the tone of his lettersshowed. In one which he wrote soon after his return to Boston he said, "My mother, and in fact all my people, seem to think so much more of mesince I have set about fitting myself for a profession. Father says heis growing proud of me, and that pleases me best of all, for he is andalways has been my best friend. Of course, I think the world of Blanch, and she seems to think I am the best fellow in the world. Little do anyof them know or even guess that it is you for whom I am working, andalways with the hope that you will deem me worthy of the great prizeyou well know I am striving for. How many times I recall every moment ofthat one short hour on the old mill-pond, and all that made it sacred tome, no one can tell. I go out little except to escort mother and thegirls to the theatre once in a while, and so anxious am I to be able topass an examination, I often go to the office and read law tillmidnight. "

When this effusion reached Alice the mountains around Sandgate were justputting on their autumn glory of color, and that night when she sat onthe porch and heard the katydids in the fast thinning foliage of theelms she had what she called an old-fashioned fit of the blues. And howlonely it was there, too!

Aunt Susan, never a talkative person, sat close, but as dumb as a gravenimage; no house near, and only the twinkling lights of several the otherside of the valley visible. On a knoll just below them she knew were afew score of white headstones, among them her mother's, and when therewas a moon she could see them plainly. It is during the lonely hours ofour lives that we see ourselves best, and this quiet evening--no morequiet than many others, perhaps, but seemingly so to Alice--she sawherself and her possible future as it seemed to be. Every word of herlover's letter had been an emissary of both joy and sorrow--joy that hewas so devoted to her, and sorrow because she felt that an impassablebarrier separated them. "He will forget me in a few months, " she said toherself, "and by the time he has won his coveted law degree his schemingmother will have some eligible girl all ready for him to fall in lovewith. As for me, she will never have the chance to frown at me, for evenif Blanch begs I would never set foot in her house!" When her feelingshad carried her up to this point she arose, and, going into the parlor, began playing. Her piano was the best and about the only companion shehad, and quickly responded to her moods. And now what did it tell? Sheplayed; but every chord was a minor one, full of the pathos of tears andsorrow. She sang; but every song that came to her lips carried the samerefrain, and told only of hungry hearts and unanswered love. And lastand worst of all, almost insensibly her fingers strayed to the chords ofone well-remembered song. One verse only she sang, and when the lastpathetic line was ended she arose and with a "What a fool I am to care, anyway!" muttered to herself, went back to the porch where her aunt wassitting. And then, as the moon came up from behind the mountain, flooding the narrow valley with pale light, in spite of herself her eyesstrayed to that little knoll where the white stones showed clear anddistinct. It was the last straw, and going to her aunt and kneeling, shebowed her head in that good old soul's lap, and burst into tears. It maybe that the hand which stroked her fair head at this outbreak recalledher mother's, for she only sobbed the harder. It did not last long, however, and when the storm was over she arose and said:

"There, auntie, I've been spoiling for a good cry all day, and now I'vehad it and feel better. "

But did she? Let those who can put themselves in her place, with herproud spirit and loving heart, answer the question. 

And here it is time and fit to speak of her brother, toward whom herheart had always turned when in trouble, and not in vain. Of the jestthat Frank had made regarding the island girl Albert had fallen in lovewith, she thought but little. That he might marry in due time sheexpected as a matter of course; that it would make any difference in hisfeelings towards her she did not for one moment consider. Now she fellto thinking what a void it would make in her life if his thoughts andaffection were centred elsewhere. Then she began wondering why he hadfailed to write as often as usual during the past six weeks. She hadknown his plans for the yachting-trip and imagined his letter announcingits failure and his return to work an expression of disappointment. Since then he had written but once, telling her that he was overwhelmedwith business and enclosing a check, but failing to enclose any but thebriefest expression of love. 

Life with Alice was at best a lonesome one, and Sunday, with its simpleservices in the village church, the singing in the choir, and pleasantnods from all she met, the only break in its monotony. Now during summervacation time it was worse than ever, and she began counting the daysuntil school opened again. Once, with Aunt Susan for company, she hadvisited the old mill-pond, and rowing the boat herself, had gathered anample supply of lilies, only to come home so depressed she did not speakonce during the four-mile drive. She had written Frank an account of thetrip, but failed to mention that she had landed at a certain point andsat on the bank and shed a few tears while Aunt Susan waited in the boatand sorted the lilies. She had enclosed a wee little lily bud in thisletter, but not a word by which he could infer that her heart was veryhungry for--some one. 

[Illustration: THE OLD MILL]

But all things, and all series of days, be they filled with joy orsorrow, come to an end, and so did the lonely vacation days of Alice. When the school gathered once more, and the daily round of simplerecitations began, she realized as never before how blessed a thing itis in this world that we can have occupation. And even more blessed toAlice Page, whose proud heart was a little hungry for love. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

OLD AND YOUNG

A week after Uncle Terry's return from Boston he asked Telly to go withhim on his daily drive to the head of the island. He had described theexciting incidents of his trip both to his wife and Telly, and, feelingobliged to do so, had told them that Mr. Page had taken charge of thecase and would communicate with him when anything definite was learned. He had noticed that Telly had seemed unusually cheerful ever since, andlikewise more affectionate. Also--a fact that did not escape hisobservant eyes--that she had at once set about painting the two sketchesAlbert had sent. 

"The leaves is turnin' purty fast, " he said to her that day, "an' Ithought mebbe ye'd like ter go with me an' take a look at 'em. Theywon't last long. "

When the two had jogged along in almost silence for a few miles he said, pointing to a small rock by the roadside, "Thar's whar I fust found Mr. Page, Telly. "

She did not know it, but he was watching her face closely as he saidit, and noted well the look of interest that came. 

"I told him that day, " he continued, chuckling, "that lawyers was mostlyall thieves, an' the fact that he didn't take it amiss went fur toconvince me he was an exception. It's a hit bird as allus flutters. Fromwhat he's done an' the way he behaves I'm thinkin' more an' more o' himthe better I know him, an' I believe him now to be as honest an' squarea young man as I ever met. "

He was covertly watching Telly as he said this, but her face remainedimpassive. "I think Mr. Page is very nice, " she answered quietly, "andhas a kind heart. Did you know he gave Aunty Leach ten dollars one daywhen he was here, and she hasn't done praising him yet? She says it's asure forerunner of 'a change o' heart, ' and when she got the dresspattern the poor old creature cried. "

Uncle Terry was silent a few moments while he flicked at the daisieswith his whip as they rode along. 

"Ye've had a couple o' letters from him sense he went back, hain't ye?"he asked finally. "I noticed they was in his writin'. " He was stillwatching her face and noticed this time that a faint color came. 

"Yes, he wrote me he was finishing a couple of sketches he made here andwanted to have me paint them for him, " she replied quietly. "They arethe ones I am working on now. "

"That's all right, Telly, " continued Uncle Terry briskly, "I'm gladye're doin' it fur him, fur he's doin' a good deal fur us an' is likelyto do more. "

Nothing further was said on the subject until they were on their wayback from the head of the island. The sun was getting low, the sea windsthat rustled among the scarlet-leaved oaks, or murmured through thespruce thickets, had almost fallen away, and just as they came to anopening where the broad ocean was visible he said:

"Did ye ever stop ter think, Telly, that Lissy an' me is gittin' purtywell 'long in years? I'm over seventy now, an' in common course o'things I won't be here many years longer. "

The girl looked at him quickly. "What makes you speak like that, father?" she said; "do you want to make me blue?" There was a littlenote of tenderness in her voice that did not escape him, but he answeredpromptly:

"Oh, I didn't mean it that way, Telly, only I was thinkin' how fast theyears go by. The leaves turnin' allus makes me think on't. It seems notime sence they fust came out an' now they're goin' agin! It don't seemmore'n two or three years sence ye was a little baby a-pullin' myfingers an' callin' me da-da, an' now ye'r' a woman grown. It won't belong afore ye'r' a-sayin' 'yes' to some man as wants ye, an' a-goin' toa home o' yer own. "

Telly turned to him again, and this time there was a decided note ofpain in her voice: "So that is what you are thinking of, father, is it?And you are imagining that some one by the name of Page is likely totake me away from you, who are and always have been all there is in lifefor me!"

She paused, and he noticed that two tears trembled on her long lashes, to be quickly brushed away. "Please do not think me so ungrateful, " shecontinued, "as to let any man coax me away from you, for no man can. Here I was cast ashore, here I've found a home and love, and here Ishall stay as long as you and mother live, and when you two are gone, Iwant to go too!" She swallowed a lump that rose in her throat and thencontinued: "As for this legacy that you have worried about so much, andI am sure has cost you a good deal, it is yours, every penny of it, andwhether it is big or little, you are to keep and use it as you need ifyou love me. You haven't been yourself for six months, father, and allfor this trouble. I have watched you more than you think, and wishedmany times you had never heard of it. "

She had spoken earnestly and truthfully, and when she ceased Uncle Terrylooked at her a moment and then suddenly dropped the reins and puttingboth arms around her, held her for a moment and then kissed her. It wasa surprise to her, and the first of its kind for many years. 

"I hain't bin thinkin' 'bout myself in this matter, " he observed as hepicked up the reins again and chirruped to the old horse, "an' only amwantin' ter see ye provided fur, Telly. As fur Mr. Page or any otherman, every woman needs a purtector in this world, an' when the right 'uncomes along, don't let yer feelin's or sense o' duty stand in the way o'havin' a home o' yer own. "

"But you are not anxious to be rid of me, are you, father?" asked Telly, smiling now and gladdened by his unusual caress. 

"Ye won't think that o' me, " he replied, as they rattled down the sharpinclines into the village, and the ride came to an end. 

But she noticed after that that he wanted her with him oftener thanever. 

Later when another letter came for her in a hand that he recognized, hehanded it to her with a smile and immediately left her alone to readit. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

FIRELIGHT FLASHES

The halcyon days of autumn, that seemed like the last sweet smiles ofsummer, had come, when one day Albert packed a valise and boarded theearly morning train for Maine. An insidious longing to see the girl thathad been in his thoughts for four months had come to him and week byweek increased until it had overcome business demands. Then he had alittle good news from Stockholm, which, as he said to himself, wouldserve as an excuse. He had told Frank what his errand was to UncleTerry, and to say to any that called that he would return in two days. Of his possible reception by Telly he was a good deal in doubt. She hadwritten to him in reply to his letters, but between each of the simple, unaffected lines all he could read was an undertone of sadness. That, with a vivid recollection of what Uncle Terry had disclosed, led him tobelieve there was some burden on her mind and that he had or was no partin it. 

When he grasped Uncle Terry's hand at the boat landing that old man'sface fairly beamed. 

"I'm right glad ter see ye, " he said, "an' so'll the folks be. Tharain't much goin' on at the Cape any time, an' sence ye wur thar it seemswussen ever. "

"How are your good wife and Telly these days?" asked Albert, "and thatodd old lady who asked me the first thing if I was a believer?"

"Wal, things go on 'bout as usual, " replied Uncle Terry, as the twodrove away from the landing, which consisted of a narrow wharf and shed, with not a house in sight. "Bascom does most o' the talkin' out o'meetin's, an' Oaks most on't in, 'ceptin' the widder, an' none on 'emsay much that's new. "

Albert smiled, glad to find Uncle Terry in such good spirits. "I thoughtI'd run down and stay a night or so with you, " he said, "and tell youwhat I've learned about the legacy. "

Uncle Terry's face brightened. "Hev ye got good news?" he asked. 

"In a way, yes, " replied Albert; "this firm of Thygeson & Company writeexpressing surprise that Frye should have given up the case after theyhad paid him over five hundred dollars, and ask that I file a bond withthe Swedish consul in Washington before they submit a statement of thecase and inventory of the estate to us. It is only a legal formality, and I have complied with it. "

"They must 'a' got skeery o' lawyers frum dealing with that dum thiefFrye, " put in Uncle Terry, "an' I don't blame 'em. Did ye larn the realcause o' his suicidin'?"

"Wheat speculation, " answered Albert. "He dropped over sixty thousanddollars in three weeks and it broke his miserly heart. I never want tosee such a sight again in my life as his face was that morning. Ithaunted me for a week after. "

When Uncle Terry's home was reached Albert found a most cordialreception awaiting him from Aunt Lissy, and what pleased him far more, awarmly welcoming smile from Telly. 

"I'm sorry we didn't know ye were comin', " said Aunt Lissy, "so't wecould be better prepared for company. "

"I wish you wouldn't consider me company, " replied Albert; "just think Iam one of the family, and let it go at that. "

The long ride in the crisp sea air, following the scanty railroad lunch, had given him a most amazing appetite, and the bountiful supper ofstewed chicken and cold lobster, not to mention other good things ofAunt Lissy's providing, received a hearty acceptance. To have thesepeople unaffectedly glad to see him, and so solicitous of his personalcomfort, carried him back to his own home and mother of years before ina way that touched him. He felt himself among friends, and friends thatwere glad to see him and meant to show it. Although it was dark whensupper was over, he could not resist going out on the rocks andlistening a few minutes to the waves as they beat upon them. There wasno moon, but the lighthouse gleam over his head faintly outlined theswells, as one by one they tossed their spray up to where he stood; backof him the welcome glow of Uncle Terry's home, and all around the wideocean, dark and sombre. What a change from the busy hive of men he hadleft that morning! Only a brief space was he left to contemplate it, when he heard a voice just back of him saying:

"Here's yer coat, Mr. Page; the night's gittin' chilly, and ye betterput it on 'fore ye ketch cold. "

When the two returned to the house Albert found a bright fire burning inthe sitting-room, and going to the entry way, where he had left hisvalise, to get a box of cigars for Uncle Terry, found that the valisehad disappeared. 

"I put yer things in yer room, " said the old man, and handing him a lamphe added, "ye know whar 'tis now, I hope, so make yerself tew hum. "

Later, when they were all gathered about the fire, both the "wimminfolks" with their sewing, and Uncle Terry enjoying one of the cigarsAlbert had brought him, the old man's face gleamed as genial as thefirelight. It was a genuine treat to him to have this young man forcompany, and he showed it. He told stories of the sea, of storm andshipwreck, and curious experiences that had come to him during the manyyears he had dwelt beside the ocean; and while Albert listened, stealingoccasional glances at the sweet-faced but plainly clad girl whose eyeswere bent upon her sewing, the neighboring waves kept up their monotone, and the fire sparkled and glowed with a ruddy light. 

"Don't you ever get tired of hearing the waves beat so near you?" askedAlbert at last. 

"Wal, there's suthin' curious 'bout that, " answered Uncle Terry; "I'vegot so uster 'em they seem sorter necessary ter livin', an' when I go'way it's hard fer me ter sleep fer missin' em. Why, don't yer like terhear 'em?" he added curiously. 

"Oh, yes, " replied Albert; "I enjoy them always, and they are a lullabythat puts me to sleep at once. "

It was but little past nine when Uncle Terry arose, and bringing in abasket of wood observed, "I guess I'll turn in middlin' arly so's to gitup arly'n pull my traps 'fore breakfast, an' then I'll take ye outfishin'. The mackerel's bitin' good these days, an' mebbe ye'll enjoyit. "

Aunt Lissy soon followed and Albert was left alone with Telly. It lookedintentional, but he was no less grateful for it. For a few moments hewatched her, still intent on her work, and wondered what was in hermind. 

"Have you finished my sketches?" he said finally, feeling that was themost direct avenue to her thoughts. 

"Not quite, " she replied, "I had to go up to the cove to work on one inorder to satisfy myself, and a good many days it was too rough to row upthere, so that hindered me. I have that one finished, though, and theother almost. "

The thought that this girl had rowed four miles every day in order topaint from the original scene of his sketch struck him forcibly. 

"May I see the finished one?" he asked. 

She brought it, and once more he was surprised. Not only was the pictureof herself sitting in the shade of a low spruce reproduced, but thefern-decorated boat near by, the quiet little cove in front, and a viewof ocean beyond. 

It was a charming picture, and vividly recalled his visit there withher. 

"There is only one thing lacking, " she said shyly, as he held it at anangle so the firelight would shine upon it, "and I didn't dare put thatin without your consent. "

"I do not notice anything left out, as I recall the spot, " he answered. 

"But there is, " she replied, "and one that should be there to make thepicture correct. Can't you guess?"

He looked at Telly's face, upon which a roguish smile had come, but itdid not dawn on him what she meant. 

"No, I can't guess, " he said; "tell me what is lacking?"

"Yourself, " she replied. 

It was a pretty compliment, and coming from any one except Telly hewould have doubted its sincerity. 

"But I do not want the picture to remind me of myself, " he answered, "Iwanted it so I could see you and recall the day we were there. " She madeno reply, and he laid it on the table and asked for the other one. Itwas all done except the finishing touches, but it did not seem to be areproduction of his original sketch at the cove. 

"I took the liberty of changing it a little, " she said as he was lookingat it, "and put in the background where you said you first saw me. "

"It was nice of you to think of making the change, " he replied quickly, "and I am very glad you did. I wanted it to portray you as I first sawyou. "

A faint flush came into her face at this, that did not escape him, andas she was watching the fire he for a moment studied the sweet faceturned half away. And what a charming profile it was, with rounded chin, delicate patrician nose, and long eyelashes just touching the cheek thatbore a tell-tale flush! Was that faint color due to the fire or to hiswords? He could not tell. Then they dropped into a pleasant chat abouttrifles, and the ocean's voice kept up its rhythm, the fire sparkled, and the small cottage clock ticked the happy moments away. 

"How is Mrs. Leach?" he asked at last; "does she pray as fervently atevery meeting?"

"Just the same, " replied Telly, "and always will as long as she hasbreath. It is, as father says, her only consolation. "

"I have thought of that evening many times since, " he continued, "andthe impression that poor old lady made on me with her piteoussupplication. It was unlike anything of the kind that I ever listenedto. I wonder, " he added musingly, "how it would affect a Boston churchcongregation some evening to have such an appearing figure, clad as shewas, rise and utter the prayer she did. It would startle them, Ithink. "

"I do not think Mrs. Leach would enter one of your city churches, "responded Telly, "and certainly not clad as she has to be. She has alittle pride left, even if she is poor. "

"Oh, I meant no reflection, " explained Albert, feeling that Tellythought the old lady needed defending, "only the scene was soimpressive, I wondered how it would affect a fashionable churchgathering. I think it would do them good, " he added candidly, "to listento a real sincere prayer that came from some one's heart and was notmanufactured for the occasion. Those who wear fine silks and broadclothand sit in cushioned pews seldom hear such a prayer as she uttered thatnight. "

Then as Telly made no response he sat in silence a few moments, mentallycontrasting the girl he had really come to woo with those he had met inBoston. 

And what a contrast!

This girl clad in a gray dress, severe in its simplicity, and soill-fitting that it really detracted from the beautiful outlines of herform, though not entirely hiding them, for that was impossible. Herluxuriant tresses were braided and coiled low down on the back of herhead, and at her throat a tiny bow of blue. Not an ornament of any nameor nature did she wear, not even a single ring. Only the crown of hersunny hair, two little rose leaves in her cheeks, and the queen-likemajesty of throat and shoulders and bust, so classic that not one womanin a hundred but would envy her their possession. 

And then, what was equally as striking, what a contrast in speech, expression, and ways! Timid to the verge of bashfulness, utterlyunaffected, and yet sincere, tender, and thoughtful in each and everyutterance; a beautiful flower grown to perfection among the rocks ofthis seldom visited island, untrained by conventionality and unsulliedby the world. "I wonder how she would act if suddenly dropped into theNasons' home, or what would Alice think of her!" Then as he noted thesad little droop of her exquisite lips, and as she, wondering at hissilence, turned her pleading eyes toward him, there came into his heartin an instant a feeling that, despite all her timidity and all her lackof worldly wisdom, he would value her love and confidence far above anywoman's he had ever met!

Then, recalling the hint as to her nature disclosed by Uncle Terry, heresolved to probe it there and then, or at least to draw her out alittle. 

"Miss Terry, " he said gently, "do you know I fancy that living here asyou have all your life, within sound of the sad sea waves, has woven alittle of their melancholy into your nature and a little of their pathosinto your eyes. I thought so the first time I saw you, and the more Isee of you the more I think it is so. "

Telly was looking at him curiously when he began this rather pointedobservation, and at its close her eyes fell and the two rose leaves inher cheeks increased in size. For a moment she hesitated, and then asshe answered he detected a note of pain in her voice. 

"The ocean does sound sad to me, " she said, "and at times it makes mevery blue. Then I am so much alone and have no one in whom to confide myfeelings. Mother would not understand me, and if father thought I wasn'thappy it would make him miserable. " Then turning her pathetic eyes fullupon her questioner she added: "Did you ever think, Mr. Page, that thesound of the waves might be the voices of drowned people trying to beheard? I believe every human being has a soul, and for all we know, ifthey have gone down into the ocean, their souls may be in the water andpossibly are trying to speak to us. "

"Oh, no, no, Miss Terry, " responded Albert hastily, "that is allimagination on your part and due to your being too much alone with yourown thoughts. The ocean of course has a sad sound to us all, if we stopand think about it, but it's best not to. What you need is thecompanionship of some cheerful girl about your own age and fewer hourswith only yourself for company. " Then he added thoughtfully, "I wish youcould visit Alice for a few months. She would drive the megrims out ofyour mind. "

"I should be glad to have her come and visit me, " replied Telly eagerly, and in her simple sincerity adding, "I am sure I should love her. "

Albert had hard work to restrain a smile, but he was none the lesscharmed by her frankness. "I wish she could, " he answered, "but she is aschool-teacher and that duty keeps her occupied most of the time. Ishall bring her down here next summer, " he added earnestly. Then feelingit unfair to conceal the fact that he knew her history any longer, hesaid, "I beg your pardon, Miss Terry, but I know what is at the bottomof your melancholy moods and I knew it the second night I was here lastsummer. Your father told me your history then. "

"He did?" she replied, turning her pleading eyes upon him in surprise;"you knew my unfortunate history that night?"

"I did, every word of it, " he answered tenderly, "and I should have toldyou I did if I had not been afraid it would hurt you to know I knew itthen. "

Her eyes fell and a look of pain came into her face. 

Then perhaps the quick sympathy she had shown regarding the pictures, orthe pathos of that look, or both, made him a trifle reckless. Suchthings are apt to have that effect upon a young man rapidly entering theillusion of love. 

"Please banish this mood from now on and never let it return, " he saidhastily; "I have come to tell you that in the near future the mystery ofyour life may be solved, and what is better, that a legacy awaits yourclaiming. The matter has been in the hands of an unprincipled lawyer forsome months, as no doubt Mr. Terry has told you, but now he is dead andI have taken hold of it, and shall not rest until you have your rights. We shall know what your heritage is and all about your ancestors in afew months. " Then he added tenderly, "Would it pain you to hear moreabout it, or would you rather not?"

"Father has told me a little of it, " she answered, "but I know he haskept most of the trouble to himself. It's his way. Since he came backfrom Boston he has acted like his old self, and no words can tell howglad I am. As for the money, it must and shall go to him, every penny ofit, and all the comfort I can give him as long as he lives as well. "

She spoke vehemently, and a look of pride came into her face. 

"I thank you for what you have said, " came from Albert quickly, "for nowI shall dare to tell you another story before I go back. Not to-night, "he added smiling, as she looked at him curiously, "but you shall hear itin due time. Up at the cove, maybe, if to-morrow afternoon is pleasant. I too am superstitious in some ways. "

An unusual elation came to him after this, and perhaps to keep Tellyfrom guessing what his story was he talked upon every subject that mightinterest her, avoiding the one nearest his heart. It came with asurprise when the little clock chimed eleven, and he at once arose andbegged her pardon for the possible trespass upon conventional hours. "You will go up to the cove with me?" he asked as he paused a moment atthe foot of the stairs. 

"I shall enjoy it very much, " she answered simply, "and I have a favor Iwant to ask of you, which is, to let me make a sketch of you just whereyou sat the time your boat drifted away. "

When he retired it was long after he heard the clock downstairs strikethe midnight hour before he failed to note the ocean's voice beneath hiswindow, and in his dreams he saw Telly's face smiling in the firelight. 

CHAPTER XXXV

THE "WIDDER" LEACH

"I'm goin' to give ye a taste o' mackerel fishin', " said Uncle Terry thenext morning after breakfast. "We'll go over to the fish house an' yecan put on some oilers an' save yer good clothes. " On the way they metthe well-remembered old lady Albert had first noticed at theprayer-meeting. She recognized him, and offering a rather soiled hand(for she had been spreading fish on the racks), exclaimed:

"In the Lord's name I thank ye, Mr. Page, for rememberin' a poor oldcreetur like me and sendin' that dress. I make sure the Lord's techedyer heart, an' if ye ain't a believer yet, ye will be. "

"I am glad my little remembrance pleased you, " answered Albertpleasantly, "it was only a trifle, and you need not feel obligated forit. " He kept on after Uncle Terry, not wishing to waste any time; butshe followed to add more thanks, ending with, "God bless ye, sir; an'may He warm the heart o' one good girl, fer ye desarve it. "

It struck him as a little curious that this eccentric old lady shouldhave so well read his feelings towards Telly, but it pleased him justthe same. When he had donned a suit of oilers, and Uncle Terry waspulling out of the little cove, Albert said, "That old lady is the mostpious person I ever met, and with her it seems entirely sincere. No onecould doubt she means every word she says. "

"Wal, it's about all the consolation she gits out o' life, an' 'twixtyou an' me she takes more'n all the rest o' the believers here, "answered Uncle Terry, "an' at times I 'most envy her fer it. She don'tairn more'n 'nough to keep soul an' body together, an' winters some onus allus helps her. She has nobody in the world that's near her, livesalone in a little shanty, an' is over seventy, and yet she thanks theLord three times a day for his many blessin's an's sure he'd never lether come to want. She's lived that way fer goin' on thirty year, an' noone ever heard her complain. Both her husband an' son went down in acoaster one winter's night, on Monhegan Shoals, an' tho' nachly she tookon 'bout it a spell, she believed it was the Lord's will, an' meant tobe a blessin'. "

"She is a monomaniac on the subject, I should imagine, " observedAlbert. 

"Wal, sorter cracked 'bout religion, " answered Uncle Terry, "leastwisethat's my notion; an' mebbe it's lucky she is, seein' she's poor, an'nothin' but that fer comfort. She's smart 'nuff other ways, though, an'there ain't nothin' goin' on here she don't know. She's kind-heartedtoo, an' if she had anything ter give, she'd share her last cent withye. If ennybody's sick, she's allus ready to help. Thar's lots o' wussfolks in the world than the Widder Leach. " And then as if that crownedthe sum total of her virtues he added, "Telly an' Lissy thinks lots o'her. "

He paused for breath, and turning to see if they were heading right, resumed his strong and steady pulling. The morning was wondrously fairand still; the sun, a round red ball, had been up not over half an hour, and a mile ahead of them lay Damriscove Island, green and treeless. Close by a flock of seagulls were floating on the still water, and awayout seaward the swells were breaking on a long and narrow ledge. 

"Thar, " observed Uncle Terry, pointing to this ledge, "is whar Tellystarted for shore all alone, just nineteen years ago last March. " Andthen adding, while he watched Albert's averted face, "'Twas an onluckyday fer the poor sailors an' a lucky one for us, fer she's been a heapo' comfort ever since. "

"Tell me, Uncle Terry, " said Albert, "why it is she feels so extremelysensitive regarding her romantic history, and what is the cause of thepeculiar moods you spoke of last summer? I noticed it last evening, andit pained me very much. "

"It's hard tellin', " was the answer, "she's a girl that's given terbroodin' a good deal, an' mebbe when she was told the facts she beganter suspect some o' her ancestors would be lookin' her up some day. Sheallus has been a good deal by herself sence she got her schoolin', an'most likely doin' lots o' thinkin'. But Telly's all right, " he addedbriefly, "an' the most willin' an' tender-hearted creetur I ever seen orheard on. She'll make an amazin' good wife fer some man, if she everfinds the right 'un. "

It is needless to say some one else in the boat echoed that belief inthought. When they reached the island Uncle Terry landed, and going tothe top of a cliff, scanned the sea for signs of fish. 

"Mackerel's curus fish, " he observed to Albert, who had followed. "They's a good deal like some wimmin: ye never know whar ter find 'em. Yesterday mornin' that cove jest inside o' the pint was 'live with 'em, an' to-day I can't see a sign o' one. We better sit here an' wait aspell till I sight a school. "

To a dreamer like Albert Page the limitless ocean view he now enjoyedlifted him far above mackerel and their habits. His mind was alsooccupied a good deal by Telly, and while he desired to please the kindlyold man who imagined fishing would entertain him, his heart was not init. 

"Don't let us worry about the mackerel, Uncle Terry, " he observed asthey seated themselves on top of a cliff, "this lone, uninhabited islandand the view here will content me until your fish are hungry. "

"It allus sets me thinkin' too, " was the answer, "an' wonderin' whar wecum from and what we air here for. An' our stay is so amazin' shortbesides! We air born, grow up, work a spell, git old and die, an' that'sthe end. Why, it don't seem only last year when I cum to the Cape, an'it's goin' nigh on to thirty now, an' I'm a'most through my spell o'life. What puzzles me, " he added, "is what's the good o' bein' born atall if ye've got ter die so soon! An' more'n all that, if life's theLord's blessin', as the widder b'lieves, why are so many only born tosuffer, or be crippled all their lives? An' why are snakes an' all sortso' vermin, to say nothin' o' cheatin' lawyers, like Frye, ever born atall?"

Albert smiled at the odd coupling of Frye with vermin. "There are a goodmany wiser heads than mine, Uncle Terry, that have never been able toanswer your question, " he replied, "and I doubt if they ever will. To mymind the origin of life is an enigma, the wide variations in matters ofhealth and ability an injustice, and the end a blank wall that none whoscale ever recross with tidings of the beyond. As some one has expressedit: 'Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of twoeternities! We strive in vain to look beyond the heights; we cry aloud, and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry. '"

"An' right thar, " put in Uncle Terry earnestly, "is whar I allus envythe believers, as the widder calls 'em, for they are satisfied what isbeyond and have it all pict'rd out in thar minds, even to what thestreets are paved with, an' the kind o' music they're goin' ter have. It's all guesswork in my way o' thinkin', but they are sure on't, an'that feelin' is lots o' comfort to 'em when they are drawin' near theend. I've been a sort er scoffer all my life, " he added reflectively, "an' can't help bein' a doubter, but there are times when I envy AuntLeach an' the rest on' em the delusion I b'lieve they're laborin'under. "

"But do you believe death ends all consciousness?" asked Albertseriously. "Have you no hope, ever, of a life beyond this blank wall?"

"Sartin I have hopes, " replied Uncle Terry at once, "same as all on ushas, but I wish I was more sure my hopes was goin' ter be realized. Oncein a while I git the feelin' thar ain't no use in hopin', an' then alittle suthin keeps sayin' 'Mebbe--mebbe--mebbe'--an' I feel morecheerful again. "

Albert looked at the roughly clad and withered old man who sat near, andin whose words lurked an undertone of sadness mingled with a faint hope, and in an instant back came a certain evening months before when theWidow Leach had uttered a prayer that had stirred his feelings as nosuch utterance ever had before. All the pathos of that simple petition, all its abiding faith in God's goodness and wisdom, all its utterself-abnegation and absolute confidence in a life beyond the grave, cameback, and all the consolation that feeling surely held for the old andpoverty-environed soul who uttered it impressed him in sharp contrast tothe doubting "mebbe--mebbe" of Uncle Terry. 

Then again he thought of all the sneers against faith and religiousconviction he had found in the writings of Paine and Voltaire; all thebrilliant epigrams and sharp sarcasms he had heard fall from the lips ofIngersoll, and how he had felt a growing belief that faith in the Biblewas but an evidence of ignorance and the ear-mark of superstition. Thenfollowing that came a contrasting comparison of the peace of mind thatwas the widow's and the lack of it that was Uncle Terry's, both of whommust feel that only a few short years were left them. And againfollowing the line of comparison, what had he to look forward to whenthe end of all things earthly drew near? Truly, as he had thought thenight that poor but devout old soul had clasped her hands and thankedGod for the blessed belief that was her comfort and staff, what availedthe doubt and distrust of atheism? All the epigrams of Ingersoll and thesneers of Voltaire served only to remove a hope and left nought to takeits place; a hope, the divine solace of which is and will be for alltime a blessed ray of light piercing the dark shadow of the beyond; abeacon beside which all the cold philosophy of sceptics will at the endfade away. 

Then as Albert looked out to where the waves were breaking upon a ledge, and back again to this old man, sitting with bowed head beside him, asincere regret that it was not in his power to utter one word that wouldaid in dispelling the clouds of doubt came to him. "Since I lack infaith myself, " he thought, "all I can say will only increase his doubt. I wish I had as much faith as the widow, but I have not, and possiblynever shall have. " For a long time he sat in silence, living over theyears during which scepticism had been slowly but surely growing uponhim, and then Uncle Terry suddenly looked up at him. It is likely theold man's keen eyes read at a glance what was in Albert's mind, for hesaid: "It don't do no good ter brood over this matter o' believin', Mr. Page; I've wished I thought different many a time, an' more so now I'mgittin' near the end o' life, but I can't, an' so thar's no use inworryin'. Our 'pinions 'bout these matters are a good deal due to ourbringin' up, and the experiences we've met with. Mine connected withthose as has perfessed religion has, to say the least, been unfortnit, but as I said afore, I wish I believed different. "

He paused a few moments, watching the ground swells breaking below themon the rocks, and then added sadly: "This hopin' ain't allus best fursome on us either, fur it's hopin' fur some one to cum year after yearthat's made Telly what she is, an' grieved Lissy an' me more'n she everknew. "

Albert looked curiously at the old man beside him, whose rough garb andstorm-beaten face gave so little evidence of the tender heart beneath, and a new feeling of trust and affection came to him. In some ways UncleTerry seemed so like his own father. Then following that came a suddenimpulse to be utterly frank with him. 

"Uncle Terry, " he said, "I have a little story to tell you, and as itcomes close to you, I believe it's right that you should know it. Thefirst time I saw Telly I said to myself, 'That girl is a prize any manmay feel proud to win. ' I asked her if I might write to her, and whatwith her few letters, and the little I have seen of her, I feel that sheis the one I want for a wife. I have not even hinted it to her yet, andbefore I do I would like to feel that you are satisfied with me. May Ihave your consent to win her if I can?"

Uncle Terry reached out and grasped Albert's hand, and shaking itcordially answered: "Ye hev my best wishes in the matter, an' I wouldn'tsay that if I didn't think ye worthy o' her!" Then he added with a drollsmile, "Lissy an' me sorter 'spected that Telly was the magnet that drewye down here!"

"I thank you for your confidence and consent, " replied Albertgratefully, glad that he had spoken. "I am earning an income that ismore than sufficient for two, and if Telly will say 'yes, ' I shall bethe happiest man on earth. And now, " he added, "let's go fishing, UncleTerry. "

"I guess it's 'bout time, " was the answer, "fur thar's two schoolsworkin' into the cove, an' we'll have some fun. "

Three hours after, when they landed at the cove, fairly sated withpulling in the gamy little mackerel, and happy as two boys, Telly metthem with a smile and the news that dinner was ready. 

CHAPTER XXXVI

A NAMELESS COVE

"We will go in my boat, " said Telly the next afternoon when she and heradmirer were ready to start on their trip to the cove, and unlocking asmall annex to Uncle Terry's boathouse, showed him a dainty cedar craft, cushioned and carpeted. "You may help me launch the 'Sea Shell'" (as theboat was named), she added smiling, "and then you may steer. "

"No, that is the lady's privilege in all voyages, " he answered, "and wemust begin this one right. "

It was a good four-mile pull to the mouth of the inlet, and when hehelped his fair passenger out he said, "Do you mean to say you rowed uphere alone every day to work on that picture, Telly?" and he addedhastily, "you will let me call you Telly now, won't you?"

"Why not? All my friends do, and I feel you are my friend. " Then sheadded, "Now I am going to have my revenge and make you pose while Isketch this time. It was the other way before. "

"I am glad it is, " he said, "for my arms are too tired to use for anhour. How do you want me, flat on the rock fast asleep, the way I waswhen my boat drifted away?"

"Oh, no, " she replied hastily, "that would look as if you were dead, andas this is to be my reminder of you, I want you very much alive. " Sheseemed in unusually good spirits, and in a far brighter mood than usual, and ready to jest and joke with unaffected gayety. As for the pose shewanted Albert to assume, she could not determine which she liked thebest. 

"I want to sketch you in the position most natural to you here, " shesaid finally, "and must ask you to choose that yourself. "

"Let us trim the boat the way mine was that day, " he suggested at last, "and I will sit beside it and smoke while you work. "

The idea was adopted, and while Telly sketched, he smoked, contented towatch the winsome face, so oblivious of his admiring glances. 

"There, " she observed, after a half hour of active pencilling, "pleaselay your cigar aside and look pleasant. I want to catch the expressionof your face. "

When the sketch was completed she asked if he had any suggestions tomake. 

"Only one, " he replied, "and that is, I would like you in the pictureand sitting beside me. "

She colored a little at this, for though utterly unused to the politeflatteries of society, she could not mistake his open admiration. 

"I would rather not be in it, " she replied soberly. "I only want to seeyou as you are here to-day. It may be a long time before you come to theCape again. "

It was an inadvertent speech, though quite expressive of her feelings, but she had no idea how anxious he was to obtain the insight it gavehim. 

"Would you like me to come often?" he queried. 

"Of course, " she answered, turning away her face; "it is so lonesomehere, and there is no one I care to talk with except father and motherand Aunt Leach and Mandy Oaks. "

Albert's heart began to beat with unusual speed. Never in his lifebefore had he felt the impulse to utter words of love to any woman, andnow he was face to face with the sweet though dreaded ordeal. For wealor woe, he could not go back and leave them unsaid. He had planned tosay about what he had to Uncle Terry, beginning with a brief history ofhis life, his income, his hopes, and ending with asking her to sharethem. But the fortress of a woman's heart is seldom assailed that way, and with the queen of his, alone there beside him in that peacefulnook, where only the tiniest pulse of the ocean rippled on the rocks, hequite forgot his address to this fair judge and jury. "Telly, " he said, "I promised to tell you a little story here to-day, but it's all said ina few words. I love you, and I want you to share my life and all that Ican do to make you happy. " A trifle incoherent, but expressive; and theanswer?

For a moment, while the tide of feeling surged through that queen'sheart, and into her cheeks, even to the tips of her ears, she wassilent, and then as both her hands went to her face, she almostwhispered, "Oh, no, no, I cannot! I can never leave father and motheralone here! It would break my heart!"

"But you do care a little for me, don't you, Telly?" he begged, tryingto draw her hands away from her blushing face. "Just a little, Telly, only say a little, to give me hope. "

And then, as one of the hands he was trying to gain was yielded, and ashe softly stroked and then raised it to his lips, she turned herpleading eyes to him and said, "You won't be angry, will you? And youwill come and see me once in a while, won't you? And let me paint apicture to give you when you come?"

It may have been the pain in his face added to her own desolation thatovercame all else, for now she bowed her head and the tears came. "Ithank you for so much, Telly, " he answered tenderly, "and God bless youfor it. I do not give you up and shall not, if I have to wait all mylife for you. I can be patient if I only have hope. " He brushed his facewith one hand, and still holding hers, arose and drew her up. Then thebold wooer slyly put his arm around her waist, and as he drew her to himhe whispered, "Just one, Telly, my sweetheart, to make this spot seemmore sacred. "

It was not refused. 

It is no harm for a man to be refused; instead it is a beneficial tonic, and inevitably makes him realize how serious a step he is asking somegood woman to take and how much it means to her. In Albert's case it wastempered by so many consolations, one at least of exquisite sweetness, that he did not really feel it a final refusal. That Telly's heart wasvery tender toward him he felt sure, and what is more, that in time hewould overcome her one objection. 

"Come out on the point, dear, " he said as she tried to draw herselfaway, "so we can see the ocean better. I will tell you the story Ipromised last evening. " He still held her a half prisoner, and when theywere seated where the waves were beating almost at their feet, he beganhis recital. When he came to that portion in which Frye played a part, and ending in such a ghastly denouement, she shuddered. 

"That is the one horrible part of taking your own life, " she said, "tothink how you will look and what those who find you will say. If I wereto do such a thing I should first make sure no one would ever find me. "

The remark startled him. "Telly, " he said soberly, "do not ever think ofsuch a thing. Would you, whose heart is so loving and tender, burden allthose who know you with a lifelong sorrow?"

"No, no, not that way, " she answered quickly, "only if those who love mewere taken I should want to follow them; that is all. Please forget Isaid it. " Then she told him her own brief history, and at last, aftermuch coaxing, a little of the one sorrow of her life. 

"Now I know, " he said, "why you avoided speaking about the picture ofthe wreck the first time I came here. " Then in a moment he added, "Telly, I want you to give it to me and let me take it away. I want itfor two reasons: one is, it gave me the first hint of your life'shistory. And then I do not want you to look at it any more. "

"You may have it, " she answered, smiling sadly; "it was foolish of me topaint it in the first place, and I wish I never had. "

When the sun was low and they were ready to return he said, "Promise me, sweetheart, that you will try to forget all of your past that is sad, and think only of us who love you, and to whom your life is a blessing. "

That evening he noticed Uncle Terry occasionally watched her withwistful eyes, and, as on the evening before, both he and Aunt Lissyretired early. 

"They wish me well, " Albert thought, and with gratitude. He had evenmore reason for it when the next day Uncle Terry proposed that Tellyshould drive to the head of the island in his place. 

"I'm sorry ye must leave us, Mr. Page, " he said, when Albert was readyto bid the old folks good-by. "I wish ye could stay longer; but cumagain soon, an' remember, our latch-string's allus out fer ye. "

When the old carryall had made half its daily journey, Albert pointed toa low rock and said, "There is a spot I shall always be glad to see, forit was there Uncle Terry first found me. "

Telly made no answer; in fact she had said but little since theystarted, and soon the hardest part of life and living, that ofseparating from those who seem near and dear to us, was drawing near. When they reached the little landing, no one else was there. No housewas in sight of it, and the solitude was broken only by the tide thatsoftly caressed the barnacled piles of the wharf and the weed-coveredrocks on either side. No boat was visible adown the wide reach thatseparates Southport Island from the mainland, and up it came a light seabreeze that barely rippled the flowing tide and whispered through thebrown and scarlet leaved thicket back of them. Over all shone the hazysunlight of October. It is likely that a touch of regret for thesacrifice she had made came to Telly as she stood listening and hopingthat the boat which was due would be late in coming, for a look ofsadness came over her face, and a more than usually plaintive appeal inher expressive eyes. "I am sorry you are going, " she said; "it is solonesome here, and it will seem more so now. " Then as if that was aconfession he might think unmaidenly, she added, "I dread to have thesummer end, for when winter comes, the rocks all around seem like somany tombstones. "

He was watching her as she spoke, and the little note of sorrow in hervoice gave him a hope that she might relent at the last moment, and givehim the promise he wanted so much. He put out his hand as if that wouldaid his appeal, and as his fingers closed over hers he said, "I amgoing away with a heavy heart, Telly, and when I can come back is hardto say. Will you not promise me that some time, no matter when, you willbe my own good and true wife? Let me go away with that hope to comfortme while I work and save for a home for us both. Will you, Telly?"

But the plaintive face was turned away, perhaps to hide the tears. Thenonce more an arm stole around her waist, and as he drew her close, shewhispered, "When I am no longer needed here, if you want me then I willcome to you. "

She was sobbing now, but her head was resting on his shoulder, and as hekissed her closed eyes and unresisting lips, a boat's sharp whistlebroke the sacred spell. 

"Go a little way back, my darling, " he whispered, "until the boat isgone. I do not want any one to see you have been crying. "

When her misty eyes could no longer see the boat that bore her heartaway, she turned, and all the long, lonely way back love's tearslingered on her lashes. 

CHAPTER XXXVII

AMID FALLING LEAVES

The mountains around Sandgate were aflame with the scarlet and gold ofautumn before life seemed quite as usual to Alice Page. The summer idyllhad passed, and though it left a scar on her heart, she had resolutelydetermined to put the sweet illusion out of her mind. "I was veryfoolish to let him see that I cared, " she thought, "for it can never be, and by and by he will forget me, or if he does think of me, it will beto recall me as one of his summer girls who had a fit of silliness. "

But for all that her heart ached at times, and in spite of allresolution her fingers would once in a while stray to the chords of "BenBolt. " She tried, and fairly succeeded in answering his letters in acool, matter-of-fact way. Occasionally when he referred to his hearthunger, and how hard he was studying in hopes that she might thinkbetter of him, she wished that he had no purse-proud and haughty motherto stand between him and a poor girl, and her next letter would be morechilly than ever. What perhaps was a bitter-sweet thought was the factthat the colder she answered him, the warmer his next letter would be. Unwisely, too, he happened to mention once that his mother had spoken ofa certain young lady who belonged to the cream of Boston society as aneligible match, and advised him to show her a little attention. It wasreally of no moment, yet it hardened Alice against his mother, and didnot help his cause. 

Every Sunday she took her wonted place in the choir, and after churchoccasionally walked alone to the cemetery and visited her mother'sgrave. Then, too, her brother's letters grew less frequent, and that wasa source of pain. With intuitive and feminine instinct she began toassume that some woman was winning his thoughts, and as it was butnatural, she could not and did not mention her belief to him. Howgrateful she was all through those melancholy autumn days that she had alarge school to absorb her thoughts, no one, not even Aunt Susan, guessed. She was having a long and hard fight with her own feelings andimagined she had conquered them, when Thanksgiving time drew near andher brother announced he would run up and spend the day with her. Shealmost cried for joy at the good news, for poor, pretty, andproud-spirited Alice Page was feeling very heart-hungry when the lettercame. He was just a little surprised at her vehement welcome. 

"Oh, I have been so lonesome, Bertie, " she said when they were alonetogether, "and the evenings drag by so slowly! Then you do not write meas often or such nice letters as formerly, and Aunt Susan never seems tonotice that I am blue. If it were not for my school, I should go crazy, I think. "

His heart smote him as he thought of a certain other blue-eyed girl whowas now occupying his thoughts to the partial exclusion of this lovingsister, and of whom he had meant to tell Alice. In an instant itoccurred to him that it would hurt her now to know it, and that he hadbest keep it to himself. 

"I am very busy these days, sis, " he replied, "and my mind is all takenup with work. Mr. Nason's business is increasing and I have a good manyclients besides him. " Then as if to draw her out, he added: "How did youlike Blanch Nason?"

"Oh, she was very nice, " replied Alice coolly, "and if she were a poorgirl and lived here I could easily learn to love her. As it is, it isuseless for me to think of her as a friend. It was good of her to pay mea visit, though, and I enjoyed every minute of it. "

"And what about Frank?" queried Albert, eyeing his sister with a smile;"did he not say a lot of sweet things to you?"

Alice colored. 

"Oh, he is nice enough, " she answered, "and tried to make me believe hehad fallen in love with me, but it won't do any good. I am sure hismanaging mamma will marry him to some thin girl with a fat purse, oraristocratic family, which, I imagine, is of more consequence to her. "

Albert gave a low and prolonged whistle. 

"So that is the way the wind blows, my sweet sister, is it?" heobserved; "and yet my possible future law partner has been humming 'BenBolt' nearly every day for the past two months! I made believe you musthave smiled on him very sweetly when he was here. "

The thought of one day when she had done more than smile at this youngman brought even a deeper color than before to her face. 

"Please do not say any more about him, Bert, " she answered with a littlepain in her voice; "he is all right, but I am too poor and too proud tosatisfy his mother, so that is all there is or ever will be to it. " Thenshe added in self-protection, "Tell me about the island girl I heard youfell in love with on the yachting-trip, and for whom you deserted thecrowd. " It was his turn to look confused, and he did, in a way thatsmote his keen-eyed sister with sudden dread. "It is true, Bertie, " shesaid quickly; "I can see it in your face. That explains your shortletters. " A little quiver passed over her lips and down the round chinlike a tiny ripple on still water, and she added pathetically, "I hatedto believe it, but it cannot be helped, I suppose. I shall feel moredesolate now than ever. " Then womanlike she said, "Is she very pretty, Bertie? She must be, or you would not have fallen in love with her sosoon. "

There was no use in concealment or evasion, and it was not like him toresort to either. "Alice, my sweet little sister, " he replied, resolutely drawing his chair near and taking her hand, "it is true, andI intended to tell you all about it, only I hated to do it at first, andso put it off. She is more than pretty, she is beautiful, and the mostunaffected and tender-hearted girl I ever met. But you need not worry. She is so devoted to the two old people who have brought her up as theirown that she will not leave them for me as long as they live. " Then headded regretfully, "So you see I must be a patient waiter for a longtime yet. " Then he frankly told Alice the entire story of his waif ofthe sea, and how even at the last moment she had refused to yield to hispleading. 

"And now, sweet sister, " he said at last, "I have a plan to unfold, andI want you to consider it well. I am now earning enough to maintain ahome, and I am sick and tired of boarding-house life. It is not likely Ishall marry the girl I love for many years to come, and there is no needfor us to be separated in this way. I think it is best that we close thehouse, or rent it for the present, and you and Aunt Susan come toBoston. I can hire a pretty flat, and we can take down such of thefurniture as we need, and store the rest. What do you think of theplan?"

"Oh, I shall be so glad of the change, Bertie!" she answered, brightening; "it is so desolate here, and you do not know how I dreadthe long winter. " And then she added quickly, "But what can I do inBoston? I cannot be idle; I should not be contented if I were. "

"Will not housekeeping for me be occupation enough?" he answered, smiling, "or you might give music lessons and study shorthand. I need atypewriter even now, and in a few months must have one. "

She was silent, considering the matter in its various bearings for a fewmoments, and then said: "But what will Aunt Susan think of the change, and it will be _such_ a change for her; like going into a new world!"

"Well, she will have to get used to it, " he answered; "at any rate, itis not wise for us to go on in this way solely for her comfort. "

Then, as Alice began to realize what it meant to bid good-by to thescenes of her childhood, the old home, the great trees in front, thebroad meadows, the brook that rippled through them, the little churchwhere every one greeted her with a smile, and the grand old hills thatsurrounded Sandgate's peaceful valley, her heart began to sink. Then shethought of the pleasant woods where she had so often gone nutting inautumn, the old mill-pond where every summer since babyhood she hadgathered lilies, and even those barefooted school-children of hers, every one of whom had come to love the pretty teacher, came into herthoughts. Life in Sandgate did not seem so desolate to her as it had, and the thought of going away grew less attractive. 

"I shall dislike to go, after all, " she said at last, "but perhaps it isbest. I shall cry when I leave here, I know, and be very homesick for aspell, but then I shall have you, and that is a good deal. " Then thismingled clouds and sunshine of a girl deliberately rose, and like a bigbaby, crept into her brother's lap, and tucking her sunny head under hischin, whispered, "Oh, if you were never going to be married, Bertie, Iwould leave it all and try to be contented. I could come up here everysummer, and go the rounds, could I not?" Then she added disconsolately, "But you will get married, and in less than a year, too. I know it. Yourbeautiful island girl cannot and will not keep you waiting so long. Icould not if I were she, I know. "

Then that big brother, blessed with such an adorable sister, raised herface so he could look into her blue eyes and said, "No sweetheart and nowife shall ever lessen my love for you, Alice, who have been myplaymate, my companion, and my confidant all my life. And if you arelikely to be homesick and unhappy in Boston, we will abandon the plan atonce. "

"Let me think about it a few weeks first, " she replied. "I could not goaway until this term of school is over, and that will not be tillChristmas. "

Then after those two good friends had discussed the proposed step in allits bearings for a half hour Albert said, "Come, now, sis, sing a littlefor me; I am hungry to hear you once more. "

She complied willingly, and as the mischievous heartbreaker never forgotto pay an old score, the moment she was seated at the piano she beganwith "Hold the Fort, " and singing every verse of that, followed it with"Pull for the Shore. "

Her brother never winced, and after she had inflicted two more of thosewell-worn gospel hymns upon him he quietly remarked, "My dear sis, youare not punishing me for what I once said half as much as you think youare. Sing some more of them; they sound like old times. " And it wastrue, too. 

The latest and most classic compositions are all very well for highlycultured ears afflicted with Wagnerian delirium; but for plain, ordinarycountry-born people, such as Albert was, there is a sweet association inthe old songs first heard in childhood that no classic productions canusurp. The "Quilting Party" will surely recall some moonlight walk homewith a boyhood sweetheart along a maple-shaded lane, when "on your arm asoft hand rested, " and "Money Musk" will carry you back to a lantern-litbarn floor with one fiddler perched on a pile of meal bags; and howdelightful it was to clasp that same sweet girl's waist when "balanceand swing" came echoing from the rafters. 

And so that evening, as the piquant voice of Alice Page trilled the listfrom "Lily Dale" to "Suwanee River" and back to "Bonny Eloise" and"Patter of the Rain, " Albert lazily puffed his cigar and lived over hisboyhood days. 

When the concert was ended he exclaimed:

"Do you know, sis, that an evening like this in Boston would seem like alittle taste of heaven to me, after I came back from the all-day grindamong hard-hearted, selfish men who think only of the mighty dollar! Andnow you see why I want you to come to Boston to live. "

It pleased that loving sister of his wonderfully, for as yet her brotherwas far dearer than any other living person. No lover had so far usurpedhis place or seemed to her as likely to. She gave him a grateful lookand smile that prompted him to say:

"Now I will look around before Christmas and see what kind of a flat canbe found, and then when your school closes you must come down and visitme and see how you like Boston. "

"Oh, that will be just delightful, " was the rejoinder, "only you mustpromise not to tell the Nasons that I am coming. "

"But if they find it out, Blanch and Frank would feel bitterly hurt, " hereplied; "remember, they did you the honor of coming up here to visityou, and Blanch has said to me several times that she hoped you wouldvisit her this winter. "

"I should love to, " replied Alice, hesitating, "but--well, I will tellyou what we can do: we will wait until the day before I am to return, and then we can call there one evening. They need not know how long Ihave been in Boston. "

Albert looked curiously at his sister. "I think I understand you, sis, "he observed, "and that is right; but is it not a little rough on Frank?He has settled down to hard study and sticks to it, and really is anexemplary young man and a good fellow. I am growing very fond of him, and should dislike to have you actually offend him. "

"I do not want to offend him, by any means, " said Alice soberly, "andneither do I want him or his haughty mother to think I am disposed toput myself in his way. If he wants to see me, let him come here. "

The next day Albert and Alice felt obliged to attend church, as all thegood people of Sandgate usually so observed Thanksgiving day, and he wasgladdened by many a cordial handshake and kindly inquiry from oldfriends. Alice as usual sang in the choir, and when the services wereover they returned, to find that Aunt Susan had the honored emblem ofthe day well browned and ready for the table. In a way the meal was atrifle saddened, for in spite of the good cheer, it brought back to allthree recollections of those who would never more be present. And thatevening both brother and sister called on Abby Miles, more to escapethe home mood than to enjoy her society. 

When morning and departure came Albert said: "I will do as you wish, sweet sister, and unless some of the Nasons should meet us at a theatre, I imagine it will work all right. Only it is a little rough on Frank, after all. "

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE OLD SONGS

Influenced by time, place, and the earnest pleading of her admirer, Alice Page had, on that summer afternoon by the mill-pond, stepped alittle from her pedestal of pride. In a way, too, her feelings weretouched, at least enough to give her many an hour's heartache afterwardswhile she was resolutely putting the sweet illusion out of her mind. Butno one, not even her brother, knew it, and only Aunt Susan suspected, and she wisely kept her counsel, hoping that all would come right in theend. 

The proposed change did not seem to disturb her much, although Alicenoticed that she was more quiet than ever and avoided that subject. 

"I'm ready an' willin' to go if you think best, " she said; "and I'll domy best as long as I can. I hain't got long to stay, and if I see youtwo happy, I'm content. "

It was the pathos of old age, and it touched Alice's heart. 

Two weeks before Christmas came a cordial letter from Blanch, remindingAlice of her promise to visit her during the holidays and insisting thatshe do so now. With it was enclosed an equally cordial but brief note ofinvitation from Mrs. Nason. Alice replied to both in due form and withprofuse thanks, also stating that she had promised her brother she wouldvisit him during her vacation, and hoped to have one or two eveningswith them at that time. 

"I will let them see I am not a deserted tabby-cat, " she said toherself, "waiting around in the cold until some one opens a door forme. " And then this proud little country girl enclosed both notes to herbrother and told him he had best inform the Nasons of her intended visitin a matter-of-fact way. "But mind, " she added, "you do not let on thatyou know they have invited me to visit them. We will do just as wetalked, go there and spend one or two evenings, or perhaps I may meetthem at a theatre, which would be much better. "

By return mail came his assurance of obedience and a sizable check. "Useit all, my dear sis, " he wrote, "and for your own needs, too. I do notwant you to feel ashamed of your gowns when you come to Boston. "

"Bless his dear heart, " said Alice, when she read the letter, "what aprize that island girl will get in him!" And then she came near cryingat the thought of that possible outcome. But when Christmas came and shekissed Aunt Susan good-by, she was near giving up the trip altogether. It may have been the sad face of her aunt that brought the irresolution, or a feeling that meeting Frank would re-awaken the little heartache shehad for five months been trying to conquer; for this proud girl hadfirmly made up her mind that she would utter a very decided "no" ifFrank proposed again. When she reached Boston she was met by herbrother, and for three days he devoted his entire time to her. 

"I have not told Frank, even, when you were coming, " he observed, "andshall not let them know you are here until we call. " Then he added, smiling, "I want you to myself for a few days, because after Frank knowsyou are here I am sure to be one too many most of the time. "

"Not on his account, you'll not be, " replied Alice with a snap, and itis likely that moment she meant it too. 

And what a gallant escort that brother was! And what a change from thedull monotony of her home life those days were to Alice!

They hunted for houses and visited art galleries mornings, lunched atParker's at noon, and devoted the afternoons and evenings to theatres. Then after that usually a _tête-à-tête_ supper at a cozy place where thebest was to be had, and a little chat in his or her room beforeretiring. It was during one of these brief visits that she noticed someof the pictures that hung in his room. 

"Who painted that shipwreck scene?" she asked, looking at one. "It is agem, and those poor sailors clinging to the ice-covered rigging areenough to make one shiver. And those awful waves, too, are simplyterrifying. And what a pretty scene is this wild tangle of rocks with agirl leaning on one and looking out on the ocean where the sun issetting or rising, " she continued as she viewed the next one. Then asshe examined it a little closer she added, "Who is E. T. ?" Albert madeno answer and she passed to a third one showing a little rippled covewith the ocean beyond and a girl seated in the shade of a small sprucetree. 

"Why, this is by E. T. Too, " she exclaimed, and turning to her brothershe repeated, "who is E. T. ?"

"Well, " he answered, "I will take you down to the island some time andintroduce you to her. She will be glad to meet my sister, you may becertain. "

Then it all flashed over Alice, and the brief history of this girl, asher brother had told it, came back to her in an instant. "So that wasthe wreck she floated ashore from, was it, Bert?" she asked; "and canshe paint like that? Why, I am astonished! And who is the girl leaningon the rock?" she added; "and what an exquisitely molded figure! Andwhat a pretty pose! Who is she?"

"That is your possible sister-in-law, " answered Albert with a touch ofpride, "and the pictures were done by her from sketches I first mademyself. They are true to life so far as all details go, only I failed tocatch her expressive face in the one that shows a front view of her. "

"And so that was the way you wooed your island goddess, was it?"observed Alice with a roguish look; "made her pose for a sketch whileyou said sweet things to her. " Then with a woman's curiosity she added, "Have you a picture of her?"

"No, I am sorry to say I have not, " he replied; "remember, she has beenhidden away on an island all her life, and I doubt if she ever had apicture taken. "

"And when will you take me to see her?" asked Alice. "I am so anxious tomeet this fairy of the shore who has stolen my brother's heart. Can't wego down there before I return home?"

"We can, " he added, "but I think we'd better wait until spring. "

The next day he informed her he had secured a box at the Tremont forthat evening, and had invited the Nasons to join them. "I thought itwould relieve your mind a little, Alice, " he added, "to meet your bogieon neutral ground. " And it did. 

But Mrs. Nason was a long way from being the haughty spectre Alice hadconjured up, and like many excellent mothers was simply interested tosee that her only and impetuous son did not make a mésalliance. Whileshe had wisely made no comment regarding her son's apparentdisappointment, what Blanch had said, together with that fact, had wonfor Alice a respect she was totally unaware of. That a poor and prettycountry schoolma'am was proud enough to discourage that son's attentionsbecause of the difference in their positions was an unusual experienceto her and one that awakened her curiosity. "I should like to meet MissPage, " she said to Blanch when the latter had asked if she might inviteher to visit them, "and see what she is like. A girl that shows thespirit she does is certainly worth cultivating, and as she entertainedyou so nicely, by all means let us return the obligation. "

When Alice's cool but polite note reached Mrs. Nason, she was piqued toeven a greater degree of curiosity, and when Albert's courteous letter, inviting "Mrs. Nason and family to share a box at the Tremont for thepurpose of meeting my sister" was received, she returned a cordialacceptance by bearer. 

To Alice the proposed meeting was a source of dread, and when thecarriage called for Albert and herself she was in an excited state ofmind, and maybe it was not all on account of Mrs. Nason either. They hadbarely taken their seats in the box, and the orchestra had only justbegun the overture, when the usher knocked and Blanch, followed by therest of the family, entered. That young lady greeted Alice with aneffusive kiss at once, and the next instant she found herself shakinghands with a rotund and gray-haired lady of dignified bearing, but ofvery kind and courteous manner. An introduction to Edith followed, andthen Frank acknowledged her polite "How do you do, Mr. Nason?" with hisvery best bow. 

Their meeting was the most formal of any, as Alice evidently wished itto be, since she did not offer her hand, and then she insisted that Mrs. Nason and her two daughters occupy the front chairs. 

"You are our guests this evening, " said Alice with quiet dignity, whenBlanch urged her to take one, "and so must pardon me for insisting. "

Then the play began, and by the time the first act was over Alice hadtaken a mental inventory of her "bogie" and made up her mind that shewas no bogie at all. When the curtain fell, Mrs. Nason began chattingwith Alice in the pleasantest way possible, and with seemingly cordialinterest in all she said, while Blanch wisely kept quiet and Edithdevoted herself to Albert. It was after the second curtain when Mrs. Nason said: "I must insist that you divide your visit with us, MissPage, and allow us to return a little of your hospitality. Of course Iunderstand that your brother comes first, and rightly too, but we mustclaim a part of your time. "

"I had promised myself one or two evenings at your home, " Alice answeredquietly, "but I do not feel that I ought to desert Bertie more thanthat. "

Then for the first time Blanch put in her little word: "Now do not offeryour brother as an excuse, " she said, "for it will not do a bit of good. I have been anticipating your promised visit for a long time, and nobrother is going to rob me of it. I shall come around to-morrow forenoonwith the coachman, and if you are not ready to go back with me, bag andbaggage, I will take your baggage, and then you will have to come. "

Alice smiled at this vehement cordiality. 

"I do not see why you cannot see your brother and visit with him just aswell at our house, " put in Mrs. Nason; "he is always welcome there, andhe knows it, I am sure. "

Alice turned to her brother, remarking: "It is nice of you to insist, and I am more than grateful, but it must be as he says. " Then she addedprettily: "He is my papa and mamma now, and the cook and captain bold, and mate of the 'Nancy' brig as well. "

"I will stir up a mutiny on the 'Nancy' brig if he does not consent, "laughed Blanch, "so there is an end to that; and you must be ready atten to-morrow. "

"Well, what do you think of the 'haughty mother' now?" observed Albert, after the Nasons had rolled away in their carriage. "Is she the awfulspectre you imagined?"

"Oh, she's nice enough, " answered Alice, "only it is just as well to lether see I need a little urging. "

CHAPTER XXXIX

SOCIETY

Three more days of Alice's visit in Boston had passed, and quickly toher. Blanch had kept her threat, and literally taken possession of hernew friend, and installed her in the guest room of the Nason residence. Then she set out to entertain Alice to the best of her ample ability. Tobe taken in hand, as it were, by a highly cultured and wealthy younglady, and to have a liveried and obsequious coachman on duty to conveythem anywhere and everywhere, was a new experience, and a decided changefrom Sandgate. The two went shopping mornings, and to matinées or madecalls afternoons, or discussed styles and effects with modistes;evenings it was a theatre or else a quiet evening at home, when Mr. Nason was in evidence. As for Frank, he was barely allowed the privilegeof procuring tickets and buying bonbons, or else making one of a rubberof whist. "Don't you dare to say any sweet things while she is here, "Blanch had cautioned him at the outset. "In the first place it is notgood form, and in the second it would offend her. Be as gallant as youknow how, but do not let mamma see that you are any more attentive toAlice than to Ede and I. If you hope to win your pretty schoolma'am youmust pay your court in her own home, not here. " It is needless to sayFrank obeyed. It was not long ere Alice began to feel herself quite athome in the Nason family, and to notice that Mrs. Nason treated her in amotherly way which was both nice and kind. That excellent lady alsoexpressed a warm sympathy for Alice in her orphaned condition, andshowed an interest in her occupation at home. 

"I see that you are fond of your little charges, " she said, after Alicehad described her school and some of the peculiarities of her pupils whowore out-grown roundabouts or calico pinafores, "and I suppose they growfond of you as well. "

"I try to make them, " replied Alice, "and I find that is the easiest wayto govern them. I seldom have to punish any one, and when I do it hurtsme more than the culprit. In a way, children are like grown people and alittle tact and a few words said in the right way are more potent thanfear of punishment. "

"And do you not find life in so small a place rather monotonous?" askedMrs. Nason. 

"Oh, yes, " replied Alice, "it is not much like city life as Iunderstand it; but having lived in the country all my life, as I have, Iam accustomed to it and do not mind. It is delightful to have theatresand the excitement of social duties, as I imagine you have all the time, and yet I am not sure I should like it. I fancy once in a while I shouldsigh for a shady spot in the woods in summer where I could read a bookor hear the birds sing. It is only in winter that I should like to livein the city. "

But the pleasant days of Alice's stay in Boston passed rapidly untilonly two were left, when Blanch said to her, "I have invited a few of myfriends here to meet you to-night, and I want you to do me a favor, andthat is, sing for me. "

"Oh, please do not ask that, " replied Alice hastily. "I do not sing wellenough, and fear that some of your friends might be critics, and thatwould quite upset me. "

"But you sing in church, " assented Blanch, "and that is much harder. "

"That is nothing, " answered Alice, smiling; "not one in ten of thosecountry people know one note from another, and that fact makes meindifferent. Here not only all your people, but all your friends, hearthe finest operatic singers, and poor I would cut a sorry figure incontrast. "

"But you will sing just once to please me, won't you?" pleaded Blanch. 

"I will not promise, " was the answer; "I will see how many are here andhow my courage holds out. "

When that evening came Blanch waited until Alice had become somewhatacquainted with the little gathering and the reserve had worn away, whenshe went to her and putting one arm around her waist, whispered, "Come, now, dear, just one little song; only one to please me. " At first Alicethought to refuse, but somehow the pride that was in her came to therescue, and the feeling that she would show her friend that she was nota timid country girl gave her the needed courage, and she arose andstepped across the room to the grand piano that stood in one corner. Hercheeks were flushed, and a defiant curl was on her lips, and thenwithout a moment's hesitation she seated herself and sang "The Last Roseof Summer. " She had sung it many, many times before, and every trill andexquisite quiver of its wondrous pathos was as familiar to her as themusic of the brook where she had played in childhood. I am not certainbut some of that brook's sweet melody came as an inspiration to her, fornow she sang as she never had before, and to an audience that listenedentranced. When the last sweet note had passed her red lips she arosequickly and returned to her seat; and then, had she not been so modestthat she dared not look at any one, she would have seen two little tearssteal out of Mrs. Nason's eyes, to be quickly brushed away with apriceless bit of lace. Sweet Alice, the motherless little country girl, had from that moment entered the heart of Mrs. Nason and won a regardshe hardly realized then; in fact, not at all until long afterward. Whenthe applause had subsided it was Frank that next pleaded. 

"Won't you sing one for me now, Miss Page?" he asked. "I bought the songI wanted to-day, " and going to the piano he unrolled and spread upon themusic rack--"Ben Bolt"!

"But I only consented to sing once for Blanch, " Alice replied, "andthere are others here who I am sure can do much better. "

"Come, please, " he said coaxingly, "just this one for me. " And then oncemore Alice touched the keys. 

Back to a simply furnished parlor in Sandgate, with its lamp on thepiano and open fire burning brightly as it had one year ago, went two ofthat company in thought, and maybe others there, whose youth had beenamong country scenes, were carried back to them by the singer's voice, and saw a by-way schoolhouse "and a shaded nook by a running brook, " infancy; or perhaps a little white stone in some grass-grown corner, where, "obscure and alone, " lay a boyhood's sweetheart! For all thepathos of our lost youth trilled in the voice of Alice Page as she sangthat old, old song of the long ago. And not one in that little audiencebut was enthralled by the winsome witchery of her voice, and for themoment was young again in thought and feeling. As for Mrs. Nason, whenthe guests had departed she turned to Alice, and taking her face in herhands exclaimed, "I want to kiss the lips that have brought tears to myeyes to-night. "

Sweet Alice had won her crown. 

The last evening of her visit she decided to spend with her brother, andwhen she came to bid adieu to her hostess, that much dreaded haughtymother had resolved herself into a charming old lady, who said: "Now Ican see why my daughter went into raptures over some one who I hope willvisit us again and stay much longer. " It was a graceful tribute, and onethat touched the motherless girl as few words could. 

"It is odd, Bertie, " she said to her brother that evening, when theywere alone together, "how different people seem when one comes to knowthem. Now from one or two things which you have said, and an admissionthat Frank made a year ago, I felt I should be sure to hate his mother, and now I think she is perfectly lovely. "

"So she is to those she likes, " answered Albert, "but if you had notshown the tact you have, my dear sis, I am not sure you would now bepraising her. You carried her heart by storm last evening, as well asthe rest of the company, and you deserved it, for I never heard you singso well. "

"I am glad I didn't break down, anyway, " she replied, "for when Itouched the piano my heart seemed in my mouth. "

"Yes, and in your voice, too, " he replied with pride, "and that is whatcarried us all away. "

For an hour they discussed the Nasons, while Albert noticed his sisteravoided any mention of Frank, and then he said: "Well, sis, which of therents we have looked at do you think I best engage and when will you beready to move?"

Alice was silent and for a few minutes she pursed her lips and looked atthe chilly shipwreck scene near her as if it contained a revelation. 

"I am not so sure, " she answered finally, "that we should make thechange at present. If I were certain your beautiful waif of the seawould adhere to her filial resolution, it would be different, but I amnot. If you secure this legacy for her that you told me about and shedonates it to those old people, as you say she intends to, why the nextthing will be an invitation to my dear brother's wedding, and that isone reason why I hesitate to make this change. Another is that I do notthink it would be good for Aunt Susan. She says she is ready andwilling, but when she has left all the associations of her life behind, she will just sit and grieve her poor old heart away in silence. "

Albert did not and could not answer all these surmises, and to a certainextent he felt that his sister was right. He certainly meant to coaxTelly to marry him, even if she insisted on spending most of her timewhere she felt her duty called her. Then he had felt all along thatAlice might be persuaded to become one of the Nason family, though hisThanksgiving visit had about dispelled that idea. As for Aunt Susan, ifthe proposed change was not likely to be a permanent one, it would notbe best to make it at all. Deliberating thus he sat in silence for atime, and leisurely puffed smoke rings in the air as he studied theceiling. Finally an idea came to him. 

"My dear sister, " he said, "have you considered or do you considerFrank in your calculations? and if so, where does he come in, may Iask?"

Alice's blue eyes assumed an expression like unto a pansy, and her facethe placidity of a mill-pond as she answered, "I had quite forgotten hisexistence!"

CHAPTER XL

"YES OR NO"

A woman's heart, as transitory as the wind, as evanescent as therainbow, and as tender as spring violets, is hard to portray with pen, and for that reason the summer-day nature of Alice Page is but faintlyoutlined. When on the morning of her departure from Boston she stoodbeside the train exchanging the usual good-by words with her brother, she was surprised at being joined by Blanch and Frank. The formerbrought her a tasty basket of lunch, sent with her mother's compliments, and the latter an elaborate bouquet of flowers. 

"I want to kiss you good-by, " said Blanch, and when the two had embracedand Frank had uttered a suitable speech, Alice kissed her brother andtook her seat. No one apparently noticed that Frank was not on theplatform when the train started, and when it was well under way Alicewas astonished to see him enter the car. She was, as may be expected, feeling rather blue, and the sight of his cheerful face was a pleasantsurprise. 

"You will not object to my company home, will you?" he asked at once; "Ithought you might be lonesome, and as I have not had a chance to talk toyou since you came to Boston, I decided to go up with you. I can comeback on the night train, " he added rather apologetically, "or if youprefer to ride alone, I can get off at the next station. "

"Oh, no, I am very glad of your company, " she replied sincerely, "and itwas good of you to think of it. It is a long ride and I have had such anice time I should have been disconsolate. You did not know, " she addedarchly, "that one reason I came to Boston was to look at rents. Bertwants us to come here and keep house for him, Aunt Susan and me. "

"And are you going to do it?" put in Frank, with sudden interest; "Ihope so, for that would give me a chance to take you to the theatres. "

"No, the plan is off for the present, " she answered; "not but that Iwould like to, but for many reasons, one of which is Aunt Susan, wethink it is not best. "

Frank was a little ill at ease, and in a way did not feel certain he waswelcome. Even without his sister's advice he would not have consideredit good taste to press his suit while Alice was their guest. But now itoccurred to him that to escort her home would be a wise move. "By allmeans go back with her, " Blanch had replied when he broached his idea, "and by the time you have reached Sandgate you will know where you standin your schoolma'am's feelings. She knows, too, how mamma feels towardsher, so that obstacle is removed. And if there is any hope for you, youwill know it soon; only as I told you once before, wait until the rightmoment comes, and then woo her quickly and courageously. "

For an hour they trundled along through the snow-clad country chattingcommonplaces, and then Alice said: "Did you meet the island girl lastsummer that you told me Bert had fallen in love with?"

"Only once, " he replied. "Bert invited her and the old lady on board the'Gypsy' and introduced them. They remained only long enough to look theyacht over. I left that day for Bethlehem, and as you know, came toSandgate. " His eyes were on her as he said this, and he noticed that anadded color came to her face. 

"What did you think of this girl?" asked Alice hastily; "tell me whatshe looks like--is she handsome?"

It is a woman's usual question, and a hard one for a man to answer, especially if the one who asks it is the girl he adores. 

"She has a beautiful figure, " he answered, "and eyes like yours, whichyou know are what I admire; only they are not so full of mischief. Theyhave a far-away look that makes you think her thoughts are a thousandmiles away. "

"How was she dressed?" was the next query. 

"Oh, I haven't the least idea, " was the answer; "she might have worncalico for all I could tell. The only thing I can remember is that herdress was tight-fitting and very plain. "

Alice smiled. 

"Those far-away eyes must have entranced you, your description is solucid, " she replied sarcastically. Then she added: "How long did Bertstay there after you came away?"

"Only a few days, " replied Frank; "I never asked him. I told him to keepand use the 'Gypsy' as long as he wanted and then I cut stick for Blanchand--Sandgate. "

He seemed to dwell upon the little outing, and Alice, noticing it, andevasive ever, fought shy of the subject. She saw also that he was notaware of her brother's infatuation and from motives of delicacy forborefurther questioning. 

"Well, how do you like my haughty mother now?" he asked, "if that is afair question. "

It was not exactly a fair question, but conscious of the fact that shehad tried to quiz him, Alice answered it frankly. 

"I think she is the most gracefully charming hostess I ever met, " shereplied, "and you ought to be proud of her. In a way, I think youconveyed a wrong impression of her to me the first time I met you, andit has lasted ever since. "

"I am sorry if I did, " replied Frank honestly, "I did not mean to. Mother knows how to be very nice to any one she likes and very freezingto any one she doesn't. She fell in love with you the night you sang, and I knew she would. That is why I almost begged you on my knees tosing, " he added earnestly, "so please do not scold me for, as you say, giving a wrong impression. "

"I did not mean to scold you, Frank, " she replied, "and if I hurt you, please forgive me. " It was the first time she had ever used his firstname and it made his heart beat high with hope. He would have there andthen whispered of that hope, had it not been for his sister's advice towait for the right moment, and it was wise that he heeded that advice. When noon came he bought a pitcher of coffee all prepared, at a railroadlunch counter, and a cup and saucer, then spread a newspaper betweenthem, and over it a napkin, and while she ate he held the cup and sharedthe edibles. It was not a gracefully eaten lunch, and yet it served tobrush away much of the restraint that lay between them. When the hillsof Sandgate were visible he said, "I have an hour before the returningtrain, and just time enough to see you safely home. "

Alice looked at him with surprise. 

"And that is your idea of my hospitality, " she exclaimed, "to let you goaway like that? The morning train is the earliest one you can escape on, and if I am not good enough company for you this evening, you can go andcall on Abby Miles. "

And what a surprised and glad old lady Aunt Susan was when the twostepped off the train, and how vividly Frank recalled one year ago whenhe and Albert met Alice at this same cheerless depot with its one smallwaiting-room and adjoining shed! The same staid horse was hitchedoutside, and as he bundled his two charges into the sleigh andofficiously took the reins, while Aunt Susan lamented because she hadnot known he was coming, "so's to hev suthin' fit to eat in the house, "he felt he was master of the situation. 

"Don't mind me, Aunt Susan, " he said with easy familiarity; "I am not avisitor, I am a big brother escorting a lone sister home. "

And how kindly that wrinkled face beamed on him behind her spectacleswhile he insisted that she stand by and let him unharness and see to thehorse as she directed! And how willingly he carried baskets of wood inand started the parlor fire, and joked and jested with her regarding hisability as an assistant!

It warmed her old heart in a wonderful way, for her husband and only sonhad long years ago been laid at rest in the village "God's acre, " and itseemed so nice to her to be noticed at all. 

Then the best blue china was none too good for this event, and the hotbiscuits must be made and a jar of peach preserves opened, some coldtongue sliced, and by the time Alice had changed her garb and appearedin a house-dress, he and Aunt Susan were the best of friends. It was allan odd and new experience to him, and so anxious was he to win the favorof those two people that he did not even stop to think what any of hisclub friends would say could they have peeped into the old-fashionedcountry home and seen him helping Aunt Susan. Even Alice had to laughwhen she saw what he was doing. 

"I did not know you could make yourself so useful, " she observed, "foreven my beloved brother was never known to help aunty set the table. "

But she knew well enough what inspired him, and when supper was over hebegan asking her all manner of questions about her school, and when shemeant to open it again, how the old miller was, and what had become ofthe boat, and how the mill-pond looked in winter, and had she been theresince the day she gathered lilies. "Always back to that spot, " shethought, and colored a little. 

Then later when she opened the piano she knew just what songs heexpected, but, disposed now to tease him, sang just their opposites, andall the while the clock ticked the happy hours away. 

It was ten ere he could coax her to favor him with one that suited hismood, and when he asked her for "The Last Rose of Summer" she exclaimedwith a pretty pout:

"I do not want to sing that, Frank; it reminds me how scared I was whenI sang it last. "

"But you brought tears into most of our eyes that night, " he answered, "so you may well feel proud of your effort. "

"Do you want to weep again?" she asked archly, looking up at him andsmiling; "if you say you do, I will sing it. "

"No, " he answered, and then hesitating a moment added, "I do not feelthat way to-night. I may when train-time comes to-morrow. "

Her eyes fell, for she saw what was in his thoughts, and rising quickly, like a scared bird anxious to escape, turned away. 

But a strong hand clasped one of hers, and then she heard him say, "Am Ito go away to-morrow happy or miserable? You know what I came up here toask. You know what I have worked and studied and waited for all the longyear since first I saw you, and for whom I have tried to become a usefulman in the world instead of an idler. It was to win you and to ask thisthat I came here to-day. "

Then she felt an arm clasp her waist, and a voice that trembled a littlesay:

"Answer me, sweet Alice, is it yes or no?"

And then he felt her supple form yield a trifle, and as he gathered herclose in his arms her proud head touched his shoulder. 

He had won his sweet Alice. 

CHAPTER XLI

AN HEIRESS

The winter had passed and March returned when one morning Albertreceived a bulky envelope bearing the Stockholm postmark, and containingnumerous legal papers and a lengthy letter, all of which impartedinformation both surprising and pleasant. So interesting was it that hedid not notice Frank when he came in, or even hear his greeting, andwell might Albert be keenly absorbed in those documents, for they madehim the emissary privileged to lay at the feet of the girl he loved--afortune!

No more need she devote herself to her foster-parents for many years tocome, and no more need Uncle Terry putter over lobster traps in rain orshine, or good, patient Aunt Lissy bake, wash, and mend, year in andyear out. 

Here was enough and more than they could spend in all the years thatwere left them, and what a charming privilege it would be to him toplace in her loving hand the means to make glad and bless those kindlypeople who, all unasked, had cared for her as their own; and what asweet door of hope it opened for him! He could hardly wait for themoment when he should say to her, "Here is the golden key that unlocksthe world for you and yours. "

Then for the first time he noticed Frank watching him with smilinginterest. 

"Well, " remarked that cheerful young man, "I'm glad to see you emergefrom your trance and return to earth again. I've said good morningtwice, and watched you for half an hour, and you didn't even know I wasin the room. "

When Frank had perused the most interesting of the documents he gave alow whistle, and with his rather startling faculty for jumping atconclusions, said:

"Now, methinks, somebody will be taking a wedding-trip to the Land ofthe Midnight Sun in the near future. I congratulate you, my dear boy, and you can have the 'Gypsy' when you are ready. " Then he added shyly, "Maybe it can be arranged so that there can be four in the party. "

The next morning Albert, bearing the legal evidence of Telly's heritage, and with buoyant heart, left for Southport. The day was dark, and when, late in the afternoon, the little boat bearing him as sole passengerhalted at the head of the island and he saw the smiling face and muffledform of Uncle Terry standing on the wharf alone, he could hardly wait toleap ashore. 

"Bless yer heart, Mr. Page, " exclaimed Uncle Terry, grasping both ofAlbert's hands in his, "but the sight o' ye is good fur sore eyes. "

"And how are Aunt Lissy and Telly?" responded Albert, smiling into theglowing face of the old man. 

"Oh, they're purty middlin', an' they'll be powerful glad to see ye, too. It's been a long time since ye left us. "

And how vividly at this moment came to Albert every detail of his lastparting from Telly, framed as she was then in a background of scarletand brown foliage! He could see her as he last saw her, standing therewith bowed head and tear-wet face, and feel a tinge of the keen painthat pulled at his own heart-strings then. He could almost hear the sadrustle of the autumn winds in the dry leaves all about that had added apathos to their parting. 

And now only a few miles separated them!

But the way was long and Uncle Terry's old horse slow, and the road inthe hollows a quagmire of half-frozen mud. Gone were all the leaves ofthe scrub oaks, and beneath the thickets of spruce still remained awhite pall of snow. A half gale was blowing over the island, and whenthey reached the hilltop that overlooked the Cape, it was so dark thatonly scattered lights showed where the houses were. When they halted infront of Uncle Terry's home the booming of the giant billows filled thenight air, and by the gleam of the lighthouse rays Albert could see thespray tossed high over the point rocks. 

"Go right in, " said Uncle Terry, "an' don't stop ter knock; ye'll findthe wimmin folks right glad ter see ye, an' I'll take keer o' the hoss. "

With Telly it had been a long, dreary, desolate, monotonous winter. Heronly consolation had been the few letters from the one and only man whohad ever uttered a word of love to her, and how eagerly they had beenread again and again, and then treasured as priceless keepsakes, helittle realized. Neither did he know how many times she had lived overeach and every hour they had passed together, and recalled every wordand look and smile. 

At times, when the cold desolation of winter was at its worst, she hadhalf regretted the sacrifice she had made, and only maidenly reserve hadkept her from writing him that her loneliness and heart-hunger were morethan she could bear. 

She had no inkling of his coming on that dark and tempestuous evening, and when Uncle Terry bade him enter the house, she was alone in thesitting-room laying the table, while Aunt Lissy was in the kitchencooking supper. And then, just as she paused to listen to the thunder ofthe giant waves, so near, she heard the click of the front door latch, and stepping quickly into the little hall, as the door slowly opened, she met the man who for five long months had never been absent from herthoughts one moment. 

A glad cry escaped her, and then--

But such a moment is too sacred for words; only it must be said it wasfortunate for both that Aunt Lissy was in the kitchen. 

When that worthy soul came in and greeted Albert as cordially almost asa mother, if she noticed Telly's red face and neck no one was the wiser, and maybe it was due to the cheerful open fire after all. 

And what a happy little party that was when Uncle Terry came in, andafter Telly, as usual, had brought his house coat and slippers, and theywere seated at the table! What mattered that the ocean surges thunderedso near, and at times tossed their angry tears against the windows!Inside was light, and warmth, and love, and trust, and all that isholiest and best in human emotions. 

And when the meal was eaten, Uncle Terry and Albert smoked and talkedwhile the fire burned bright, and the little clock on the mantel tickedthe time away as clocks are bound to do, no matter how content we are. 

When Albert had asked about the Widow Leach and Bascom, Deacon Oaks andMandy, heard all the little gossip of the Cape, and given his isolatedfriends a brief synopsis of current events in the great world of whichthey could hardly be considered a part, and the evening was two-thirdspast, he said:

"Now, my good friends, I have a little surprise in store for you, " anddrawing from an inside pocket a bulky envelope, rising and crossing theroom to where Telly sat, he handed it to her with the remark:

"I have the honor and exquisite pleasure of presenting to you, MissEtelka Peterson, sole surviving heiress and descendant of one EricPeterson, of Stockholm, your paternal grandfather, these legal documentscertifying to your inheritance of about one hundred and thirty thousanddollars, besides various pieces of real estate as yet unappraised. "

The effect of this announcement upon the three listeners was unique andnot exactly what Albert had anticipated. For an instant they seemeddazed, and Telly, holding the big envelope gingerly, as if it mightbite her, stared at Albert with a look of fright. Aunt Lissy was thefirst to speak, and "Good Lord-a-massy" came from her in an awedwhisper. 

"Thank God, little girlie, you've got yer dues at last, " was UncleTerry's remark, and then, as the probable end of Telly's life with themcast its shadow athwart his vision, he bowed his face upon his hands andadded in a pained voice: "I knowed it'ud come an' we'd lose ye, soon orlate. "

The pathos of his act and words, with the overwhelming disclosure, seemed to force upon Telly the belief that in some unknown way it meantthe ending of her present home life. For one instant she looked at him, and then the tide of emotion swept her to his side and kneeling thereshe thrust the envelope into his hands and clasped his arm. 

"I won't take it, father, " she said quickly, "not one penny of it! It'sall yours, and I'll never leave you so long as you live, and no one canmake me!" Then as the tide ebbed, her head sank upon his knee and shebegan to sob. 

"Thar ain't no cause fur worryin' 'bout that yit, girlie, " he answered, placing one hand on her bowed head, "an' no need fur ye to leave us'thout ye mind to. We want ye allus, long as we kin keep ye, make sure. "Then noting the dumfounded look on Albert's face he added, "Ye mustn'tmind Telly's ways, Mr. Page, it's upset her a little an' made herhisteriky. She don't quite understand, yit, what it all means. She ain'tmuch used ter havin' a fortin drapped in her lap. "

To Albert the climax was not what he anticipated. If this heritage didnot relieve her sense of filial duty, he thought, what chance would hislove have? But Uncle Terry was wiser than the rest. 

"Don't mind what I said, girlie, " he continued, stroking her bowed headand looking into the slowly dying fire as if it contained a prophecy. "It was an inadvartance. " And then rising and lifting the girl tenderly, he added, "We'd best go to bed now, Lissy, an' mebbe Mr. Page, bein' alawyer, can 'splain matters to Telly. "

When they had left the room Albert seated himself on the sofa to whichthe girl had gone, and said: "I am a trifle puzzled and a littledisappointed, Telly, at the way you feel about this inheritance. It isrightfully yours and will enable you to do much for the future comfortof those you are devoted to. I had hoped, also, it would relieve yourfeeling of obligation a little. "

"No money can do that, " she answered quickly, "and all this won't beworth to father the care he has grown accustomed to from me. It was hisfeeling that I was likely to leave him, though, that upset me, and thenthat name you called me by hurt a little. "

"Still the same Chinese wall of filial duty, " thought Albert, andgrowing desperate at the prospect of possible years of waiting andheart-hunger he continued:

"But won't this money do more for them than you can, Telly? Is there anyneed of his remaining here to putter over lobster traps and drive awagon, rain or shine? He is getting too old for that, anyway. Why notbuild a home for them in Boston, or better still, share ours there?"

It was the first suggestion of what was nearest his heart, and a flushcame over Telly's face. 

"We haven't a home there yet, " she answered, turning her face away. 

"But we will have, darling, " he answered quickly, seizing the opening, "and as soon as you consent I shall begin to make it ready. It isfolly, " he added hurriedly, as if to forestall any negation, "for us togo on this way any longer. I want you, darling, and I want a home. Lifeto me, with you buried here, is only desolation, and how much so to you, the past five months can only tell. I know how you feel toward thesegood people, and your care for them shall be my care. "

Once more Telly hid her face behind her hands, the better to think, perhaps, or to hide rebellious tears. And now she felt herself gatheredwithin strong arms and a hand making both hers prisoners, and as sheyielded a little to his clasp he whispered: "Do not say 'no' again, Telly! Do not rob yourself and me of love and home and happiness anylonger! Make what plans for them you wish; do as you will with yourheritage; all I plead for is you. Must I be deprived of my hoped-forhappiness. " It was an eloquent plea, and the last suggestion of themorrow's parting won the victory, for as he paused, holding her closewhile he waited for her answer, only listening love heard it whispered. 

And outside, the billows that years before tossed her ashore, and hadwoven their monotone of sadness into her life, still tolled theirrequiem, but she heard them not. She had entered the enchanted castle ofillusions. 

CHAPTER XLII

THE PATHOS OF LIFE

When June had again clad Sandgate's hills and village with green, andspangled its meadows with daisies, there occurred two events of sacredimport to four young people, but of little interest to the rest of theworld. 

The first was a wedding in the village church where the sweet voice ofAlice Page had oft been heard, and where now as a bride she walkedtimidly to the altar. 

Her pupils, aided by their parents, had turned the church into a bowerof green, brightened by every colored flower that grew in field orgarden. Even the old mill-pond contributed its share, and the altar waswhite with lilies. Almost every resident of the town was present, andthe aged miller sat in one corner and watched with wistful eyes. TheNason family, with Aunt Susan and Albert, shared the front pew, and thelittle girl who once upon a time had said, "Pleath may I kith you, teacher, " was accorded the proud privilege of strewing roses andviolets along the aisle in front of the bride. 

When the parting came, Aunt Susan made a brave effort to bear up untilthe train carried the wedding-party away, and the little miss whoscattered flowers was inconsolable after Alice kissed her good-by. Theold miller returned to his toil with a heavy heart, for he had knownAlice since, as a child, he held her up that she might see the wheel goaround and laugh and crow at its splashing. Many times each summer shehad come there to gather lilies, and now she had gone, perhaps never toreturn. One by one the summer days would come and go, the mill-stonerumble, the big wheel splash, the old boat float idly beneath itswillow, and the water-lilies bloom and fade; for sweet Alice would comeno more to pluck them. 

Two weeks later occurred the other event, when the 'Gypsy' steamed intothe Cape harbor and a select party became the guests of honor at UncleTerry's home. Long tables decked with flowers and loaded with the bestthat Aunt Lissy could prepare stood under the trees in front; the littleporch was a bower of ferns and clusters of red bunch-berries, and everyman, woman, and child that dwelt on the island was there. 

Then after Albert and Telly had halted in the fern-covered porch toutter the simple but sacred words that bound them for life, the gladsomeparty gathered and made merry at the tables. 

The sun was low in the west ere Telly kissed the tear-wet faces of UncleTerry and Aunt Lissy and the 'Gypsy' sailed away. Far to seaward thepurple line of coming night was slowly creeping in, and side by side onthe little knoll where stood a low white headstone, those two sat andwatched her pass out of their lives. When only the wide ocean wasvisible and the line of shadow had crept up to the wave-washed rocksbeneath them, Uncle Terry arose. 

"We'd best go in, Lissy, " he said. 

And looking into his saddened face she saw that she must lead him, forhe was blinded with tears. 

THE END.