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University of California Berkeley 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
A PRINCESS OF 
 ARCADY 
 
 BY 
 
 ARTHUR HENRY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO. 
 1903 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY 
 DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY. 
 
 Nortooob 
 
 J. S. Gushing & Co. - Berwick & Smith 
 Norwood Mass. U.S.A. 
 
tfjts storg 10 
 ANNA T. MALLON 
 
 ON WHOSE ATTITUDE TOWARD HER OWN CONVENT 
 LIFE WAS FOUNDED THE CONVENT OF " OUR LADY 
 
 OF PEACE" 
 
A PRINCESS OF 
 ARCADY 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 AN island of a hundred acres Pilliod's 
 Island. He called it his little France. On 
 one side it rose abruptly eight feet from the 
 river, and on the other, the water, when at 
 high tide, rippled over its green surface. 
 From this marshy border rose a tangled 
 growth of reeds and swamp grasses, elder- 
 berry bushes, and flaming weeds and wild 
 flowers. It was a great opal of an island, 
 rich in colour, that changed not only with 
 the seasons, but with every hour, as the sun- 
 shine or the clouds passed over it. The 
 high banks of the river swept in a wide 
 circle about it. There was a suggestion of 
 pride and protection in the lines of the sur- 
 rounding shores, as if they were saying to 
 any one who could interpret their language, 
 "Would you see a few acres of Paradise? 
 
2 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 Then look over at our little island here. 
 Even God can make nothing more beau- 
 tiful." 
 
 At one end was the vineyard where every 
 year the grapes swelled to great purple 
 globes of juice. In the early spring, as 
 soon as the snow vanished, the whole island 
 donned a garment of light green while the 
 fields of the surrounding high lands were 
 still cold and bare. Then, day by day, just 
 by going to the edge of the bluff and look- 
 ing down, you would see the lines forming 
 which divided the corn, the wheat, the oats, 
 and the hayfields into squares of different 
 shades. As the harvest approached, you 
 could see a counterpane of gorgeous patches, 
 for then the wheat was a mass of shining 
 yellow, except where the shadow of a cloud 
 was moving ; the oats had a russet tinge, the 
 corn was a deep rich green, and in the 
 motley of the hayfields purple and grey 
 prevailed, with here and there a patch of 
 wild mustard or a stalk of mullein. 
 
 On the west side of the river stands the 
 village of Maumee, and directly across, a 
 mile away, is Perrysburg. These villages 
 lie close to the river and watch each other 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 3 
 
 across the island with a drowsy jealousy. 
 It is the kind of jealousy that harms no 
 one. 
 
 When the Angelus is sounded at morning, 
 noon, and sunset, the bell-ringers of the two 
 villages so time their strokes that the chime 
 of one seems like the far-off echo of the 
 other. 
 
 One morning in early spring, Minot Alex- 
 ander stood upon the bluff overlooking the 
 island. He saw old Jean Pilliod carefully 
 picking his way along the well-worn path 
 down the hillside. His feet were bare, and 
 his blue jean trousers were rolled part way 
 to his knees. His thick hair, perfectly white, 
 fell to his shoulders. Although he walked 
 with the precaution which comes with age, 
 he seemed a sturdy figure. Mr. Alexander 
 watched him until he reached the raft 
 moored to the bank, which took him to and 
 from his island, and then, upon an impulse, 
 he called to him. Receiving no response, 
 he remembered that old Pilliod was growing 
 deaf. He looked at the steep bank before 
 him, with the first intention of scrambling 
 down it, and laughed as he remembered that 
 he, too, was growing old. He hurried to the 
 
4 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 path, and descending as rapidly as possible, 
 came upon old Pilliod just as he was push- 
 ing off. 
 
 " Take me with you," he called. 
 
 The other, hearing him, now looked up 
 and peered at him a moment from a pair of 
 bright eyes that twinkled from beneath his 
 heavy grey brows. 
 
 " Well, well," he said, " you are here again. 
 You come as regularly in the spring as the 
 swallows." 
 
 He pushed back to the shore and helped 
 his old friend aboard. 
 
 Any one noticing the hands of the two 
 as they clasped would know at once how 
 far removed were the worlds in which 
 they toiled. 
 
 Old Jean Pilliod's were twisted and hard 
 as a well-seasoned apple bough. He seized 
 his pole and skilfully pushed the raft from 
 the island. He knew all the tricks of the 
 current, and they no longer seemed malicious 
 to him, but more like the eccentricities of a 
 friend whom we have learned to live with. 
 
 Minot watched him in silence for a 
 moment, and then he said : 
 
 " This is a fine life you lead. When I 
 
A PRINCESS OF A&CADY 5 
 
 come to the country, I wish that I might 
 never leave it." 
 
 " Would you like to have fingers like these ? " 
 said old Jean Pilliod, holding out one of his 
 hands, bent and stiff. " And then, too, you 
 see my back is crooked. That's what comes 
 from working in the fields." 
 
 Minot smiled, but said nothing. No one 
 could be more careful of his personal appear- 
 ance than he, and yet it signified nothing to 
 him. Every day he conducted the affairs of 
 his business carefully, adding something to 
 his fortune ; but this was a matter of course, 
 and he had long since ceased to take any 
 interest in it. It meant nothing to him. 
 The money that he accumulated he had no 
 desire to spend, for he was alone in the 
 world. 
 
 When they reached the island, they sepa- 
 rated, and Jean Pilliod trudged off to his 
 fields. Minot Alexander had no other pur- 
 pose than to spend an aimless, pleasant day. 
 As he was walking along the marshy border, 
 his attention was caught by a bright pink 
 blossom which seemed unusual to him. 
 
 " I will get that," he said, " and ask Chris- 
 topher Mott what it is." 
 
6 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 The blossom, however, was just out of his 
 reach. He could approach no nearer with- 
 out sinking into the marsh. 
 
 He cut a stout branch from a bush, and 
 with a swift stroke severed the blossom from 
 its stalk and brought it to his feet. It hap- 
 pened that at that moment a bee was delving 
 in the blossom, and outraged by the death 
 of its mistress, it flew fiercely about his head. 
 
 Mr. Alexander, surprised at the sudden 
 attack, attempted in vain to defend himself, 
 but the bee would not be frightened off. 
 Mr. Alexander took to his heels. He sped 
 across the field, waving his arms with the 
 most undignified vehemence. Freed from 
 his pursuer, he continued his flight for a few 
 moments in pure enjoyment of the exhila- 
 ration it brought him. The adventure had 
 made him feel something of a boy again. 
 He stopped abruptly, however, when he saw 
 immediately in his path two children in an 
 attitude of fright. A slender little boy was 
 standing boldly upright, courageous and ter- 
 ror-stricken, while crouching behind him was 
 a little girl. Her hands were clutching the 
 boy's coat desperately, and her bright eyes 
 were fixed in an agony of alarm upon what 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 7 
 
 must have seemed to her a destroying mon- 
 ster. Mr. Alexander stood quietly before 
 them for a moment, and looked down upon 
 them, smiling kindly. 
 
 u Don't be frightened, little ones," he said ; 
 " I would not harm you for the world." 
 
 He looked as he spoke into the eyes of 
 the little girl, and her face at once brightened, 
 flushed with the colour that was natural to 
 it, and broke into dimples as she smiled. 
 
 " That's right," he said ; " you must not be 
 afraid of me, for I was just looking for some 
 one to play with." 
 
 The child laughed, a little nervously, it is 
 true, and, stepping nearer, she looked up into 
 his face and said : 
 
 " You would not hurt us, would you ? I 
 really wasn't very much afraid, but you were 
 so big, you know, and you did look terrible." 
 
 " I wasn't afraid at all," said the boy. " I 
 knew you were only trying to frighten us." 
 
 " Oh no, it wasn't that," said Mr. Alexander. 
 " I was only running away from a great big 
 bee ; so you see I am the only coward here." 
 
 "Are you afraid of bees?" said the boy ? 
 contemptuously. " They won't hurt any one." 
 
 " Sometimes they do," said the little girl, 
 
8 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 as if trying to make matters more easy for 
 her new friend. The boy seemed to catch 
 the spirit of this apology, and said, with a 
 touch of patronage, that he was afraid of 
 snakes. The girl, as if recognizing that this 
 was a good time to drop the subject, cried 
 with a pretty air of affected grief : 
 
 " See, I have dropped all my flowers." 
 
 " So you have," said Mr. Alexander, and 
 they all three began hastily to gather the 
 scattered buttercups and dandelions and 
 spring beauties that lay upon the ground. 
 
 " I have never seen you before," said the 
 little girl. " Where do you live ? " 
 
 " In the city," he replied; " in the big city 
 down the river." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed the boy, in a long note 
 of awe as he looked toward the steeples and 
 the vague outlines of the tall buildings that 
 could be faintly discerned in the distance. 
 
 Mr. Alexander caught the expression of 
 his face, and it sent a pang through his heart. 
 He looked toward the city, and for a moment 
 as if seeing it through the eyes of the boy, its 
 outlines, softened through the blue mist, took 
 fantastic shapes. It became to him also a 
 mirage of fairyland. Oh, he thought if he 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 9 
 
 could but again see the world with the wist- 
 ful eyes of his youth. 
 
 The little girl said, with a sigh of relief: 
 " I am so glad. I thought when I first saw 
 you that you had at last come from that big 
 house way over there," pointing to a distant 
 building on the mainland ; " for that, you 
 know, is where the ogre lives." 
 
 " The ogre ! " exclaimed Mr. Alexander. 
 " What makes you think that ? " 
 
 u Oh," said the girl, looking at him gravely, 
 " my mamma says so, and she says if ever I 
 am out alone at night, that he will get me." 
 
 " Humph ! " was all that Mr. Alexander 
 answered, for he did not know how far he 
 could venture with a mother's discipline, but 
 it seemed to him a pity that so sunny a little 
 soul should be unnecessarily troubled with 
 fears. " I should think," he said to himself, 
 " that there are enough real cares to contend 
 with without creating imaginary ones." 
 
 " I have been to the city once," said the 
 boy, " and some day when I am big I will 
 live there, too." 
 
 " Would you rather " he stopped, say- 
 ing to himself that he would not be the one 
 to destroy an illusion. Turning to the girl, 
 
10 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 he asked, " Would you like to live in the 
 city, too ? " 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " if ever the prince 
 should come to marry me. Pierre says he is 
 going to be the prince some day when he is 
 big, and then I will go and live with him in 
 one of those palaces there." 
 
 " But ar'n't you happy here in these pretty 
 green fields, with so many flowers for you to 
 pick, and the birds to sing to you ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," she said, " but I am only a little 
 girl now, and Pierre is here to play with me, 
 but when he goes, I must go too." 
 
 Mr. Alexander learned that the boy was a 
 grandson of old Jean Pilliod, and that the 
 man following sturdily behind the plough in 
 one of the fields was his father. The girl 
 was a daughter of a fisherman who occupied 
 a little hut at one end of the island. Her 
 mother was sick, and it was for her the flowers 
 had been gathered. He knew at once how 
 poor and commonplace must be the life await- 
 ing her, and he looked with pity upon her 
 bright and eager face as he thought what 
 desolate realities would come to her in place 
 of her fancies. It could only be some worth- 
 less fellow who would lead the life of a fisher- 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY n 
 
 man along this river, which had long since 
 ceased to supply a product sufficient for the 
 market. Her father must be some ne'er-do- 
 well, who, by occasional jobs that could be 
 handled without too much effort, and the 
 small catch which would come from a day's 
 fishing, managed just to live. He thought of 
 his own wealth, and how useless it was, and 
 wondered vaguely if it would be possible for 
 him, had he a little girl like this, to make her 
 dreams come true. 
 
 At noon, the Angelus again sounded, and 
 the bells from the two villages floating over 
 the island blended in an indescribably soft 
 melody. 
 
 Mr. Alexander heard the voice of Jean 
 Pilliod calling to him as he trudged toward 
 the house for dinner. 
 
 The little girl took his hand and said 
 eagerly, " Don't go away. Won't you come 
 with me ? " 
 
 " But," said he, hesitating, " if your mamma 
 is sick, I shall trouble her." 
 
 " Oh no," she said, " I will have two little 
 fish for my dinner, and you may have one of 
 them." 
 
 He sent word by the boy, and went with 
 
12 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 the little girl to the hut. He found it to be 
 a place of two small rooms. A pan of fish 
 was sputtering upon the stove, and by it, on 
 a rough hand-made chair, sat a woman very 
 pale and thin. He was startled by her appear- 
 ance. Her eyes were closed, and her hands 
 were hanging listlessly by her side. She did 
 not seem to breathe, and her lifeless face wore 
 the fixed and yet tranquil expression which 
 sometimes follows death. The little girl 
 ran to her, and laying the flowers in her lap, 
 whispered : 
 
 " Look, mamma, at the man I brought 
 you. He lives in the city." 
 
 The woman, a little startled, looked up, 
 and her cheeks became flushed for a 
 moment. 
 
 " Your little daughter," said Mr. Alexan- 
 der, "and I have been playing together all 
 the morning, and she has promised me one 
 of her fish for my dinner. I hope I shall not 
 trouble you." 
 
 He paused for a moment in some embar- 
 rassment, hardly knowing what excuse to 
 offer for his intrusion. 
 
 He had thought it possible that he might 
 receive a rough welcome, and, if so, he 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 13 
 
 had hoped to make amends with a little 
 money. 
 
 He found himself in the presence of gen- 
 tleness and misery, which seized powerfully 
 upon his sympathies, and yet made him al- 
 most ashamed of being there. 
 
 " I am Mr. Alexander," he said presently, 
 as the woman still looked at him in some 
 confusion, " a friend of Jean Pilliod's. I 
 hardly know why I came, except that your 
 little girl seemed anxious to have me." 
 
 " Oh, yes," she answered brightly. " I was 
 afraid at first he was the ogre, but he turned 
 out to be the nicest man." 
 
 " I am sure," said the mother, " I am glad 
 that you came with Hilda." She added with 
 a pitiful laugh, which seemed to be the 
 shadow of a once merry temperament : 
 " You see, you are really too late to put me 
 to any trouble, for my dinner is all ready to 
 serve." Turning to Hilda, she said gently, 
 " You will have to hurry, daughter, for the 
 fish are almost done, and the table isn't set." 
 
 Hilda went at once to one corner of the 
 room which was evidently devoted to her own 
 use. Here was a little box that served as a 
 toilet table. It was covered with bright, 
 
14 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 clean paper, tacked neatly to the sides. On 
 the top was spread a clean towel which had 
 been elaborately fringed and bordered with 
 a faded ribbon. On it was a small basin and 
 pitcher of tinware, painted blue, and above 
 was a fragment of a mirror suspended by a 
 crocheted net that partially enclosed it. 
 There was something, at the same time, 
 very dainty and very pitiful in the aspect of 
 this corner. Odds and ends of different col- 
 oured ribbon, bits of cheap lace and embroid- 
 ery that might have been picked from a scrap 
 basket, had been utilized as adornment. 
 
 " If you would like to use it," said the 
 woman, " there is a wash-basin on the bench 
 outside." 
 
 " No, no," cried the little girl, who had 
 already finished her toilet, " I want him to 
 use mine." She seemed, in fact, to look 
 upon Mr. Alexander as her own guest. 
 
 There was something very childlike and 
 yet very old in her manner toward him. 
 She led him to her corner, with a sort of 
 gracious eagerness. She poured the water 
 for him, got him a clean towel from the box, 
 and then stood by to see him wash. 
 
 " I thought," she said confidentially, " that 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 15 
 
 you had rather do it here. Don't you think 
 it is pretty ? I made all these things ; my 
 mamma showed me how." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Alexander; "I think it's 
 very pretty. I don't think I ever saw a 
 looking-glass in such a curious frame before." 
 
 " We made that up," said Hilda, looking 
 at it critically. " At first, I was very sorry 
 that I could only have a broken one." 
 
 " I wish I had a little girl who could make 
 such nice things for me. I am sure that is 
 much prettier than anything I can buy." 
 
 "And I wish," said the little girl, "that you 
 were my papa. My papa don't seem to care 
 for anything I do, and he don't " 
 
 " Daughter," came the reproving voice of 
 her mother very softly; and Mr. Alexander 
 felt a little confused. 
 
 The girl took an apron from her box, and 
 asked Mr. Alexander to tie it on for her. 
 
 In another corner of the room stood a 
 larger box which served as a china closet. 
 From this she took a tablecloth, and, with 
 the aid of a chair, proceeded to set the table. 
 
 " The little one," said the mother, u is my 
 housekeeper. It is wonderful what she has 
 learned to do. Even when we eat alone and 
 
1 6 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 have just fish for dinner, we have the table 
 set. I want to teach her all I can." She 
 paused a moment, and then added as if to 
 herself, " I am sure I don't know whatever 
 will become of her when I am gone." 
 
 All during the meal, the little girl chatted 
 with the curious, nervous incoherence of 
 children when first moved by the desire to 
 please. Her cheeks were flushed. She 
 hardly ate. Her bright eyes were fixed con- 
 stantly upon her guest, and whenever he 
 looked at her, she smiled in her happiness. 
 
 When he left, she seemed taken entirely 
 by surprise. It had not occurred to her that 
 this great new pleasure was such a temporary 
 affair. It takes children a long time to 
 anticipate. No wonder that a little grief 
 assumes the proportions of a tragedy; for 
 them it has no end. I think if we could 
 realize how absolutely the present moment 
 is the child's forever, there would be less 
 punishment, for who would willingly consign 
 one to an eternity of torment and despair ? 
 
 They were again in the field when the end 
 came. 
 
 Their companionship had been an unusual 
 experience to each of them. In this case 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 17 
 
 the child and the man of sixty felt something 
 of the emotions of young lovers when they 
 first meet. This was so because Mr. Alex- 
 ander, reserved and conventional in his out- 
 ward appearance, in reality lived most in that 
 world of ideals and dreams where youth is 
 perpetual and where time and customs are 
 unknown. His very gravity and all his courtly 
 manners had been acquired from the instinct 
 which moves all such men to place a barrier 
 between themselves and the world as they 
 realize that if they would preserve the spirit 
 of their youth, and protect it from the cyni- 
 cism of others, they must conceal it. In his 
 little companion he had chanced upon a per- 
 fect type of the purely feminine. Here were 
 all the traits in embryo which, when preserved 
 and developed, make the ideal woman who is, 
 above all things, sympathetic and receptive, 
 one in whom the very assumption of an in- 
 terest possesses a more seductive charm than 
 the violent passion of others ; whose sins 
 seem more innocent than the virtues of aus- 
 terity. Such women have inspired, without 
 design, the achievements which have made 
 epochs and kingdoms famous when the pat- 
 ronage of the throne alone would have failed. 
 
1 8 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 It is in the eyes of such that the poet must 
 look for his revelations. They seem to be 
 the unconscious repositories of nature. Their 
 souls are her secret laboratories, her studios, 
 her hidden places, wherein, undisturbed, she 
 works her masterpieces. 
 
 Mr. Alexander felt the tenderest and purest 
 delight in the effort to become one with the 
 little girl. And she, less conscious of them, 
 perhaps, than he, was prompted by the same 
 design, and felt something of the same emo- 
 tions. He was a little less pompous, and she 
 was much more so. It was curious to see 
 how, as she walked with him, she attempted 
 vainly to follow his longer stride. Her man- 
 ner was a quaint reflection of his. In all 
 that she said there was a very apparent effort 
 to voice what she fancied must be his point 
 of view. She looked about her for new 
 impressions, carefully selecting the longest 
 words in her vocabulary, and sought con- 
 stantly to repress the vagrant impulses that 
 had never before been restrained. She at- 
 tempted to express herself judiciously. The 
 fact that her little mind was unusually excited 
 and alert at the very moment when she was 
 attempting to subject it to the control of 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 19 
 
 unaccustomed influences, produced at times 
 the most astonishing results. 
 
 Everything she saw was enlarged or con- 
 torted because of this very excitement of 
 her senses. Yielding to her first impulse, 
 she would call his attention to what she saw 
 or fancied with the extravagant gestures and 
 exclamations of a child, but remembering 
 the new part she had to play, she would 
 instantly subdue her manner and seek to 
 qualify her statements, becoming involved 
 at times in a hopeless tangle of words. Some- 
 times she would hesitate in her embarrass- 
 ment, and look furtively up into his face. 
 He would nod his head as if assuring her 
 that he understood and finish her sentence 
 for her, and while it might be as illogi- 
 cal as her own, since there was really no 
 thought to express, his manner reassured her, 
 and she was again composed. She wished 
 to please him, that was all. Suddenly was 
 heard the voice of Jean Pilliod, about to 
 return to the mainland. 
 
 " And now," said Mr. Alexander, " I must 
 
 go-" 
 
 She stopped abruptly, and looked question- 
 ingly up into his face. The little artificial 
 
20 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 smile which she had been rapidly acquiring 
 in her effort of politeness was suspended as 
 it were amid the wreck of her happiness. 
 Then as he held out his hand to her, and 
 said good-by, all her assumptions vanished, 
 and she became at once a woe-begone little 
 child, protesting and anxious. 
 
 " Don't go," she said, her lips trembling, 
 and the tears rising quickly to her eyes. 
 
 " But I must," said he, picking her up in 
 his arms. " You must not cry. Just think 
 what a nice day we have had, and I will come 
 and see you again." 
 
 She threw her arms about his neck and 
 clung to him, repeating over and over again, 
 with all the unreasonable persistence and 
 impatience of her age : " Don't go ! Don't 
 go ! I don't want you to go. Please, please 
 don't go." 
 
 He put her down as gently as he could, 
 and then, into her troubled heart there crept 
 a feeling of humiliation. The memory of 
 what she had tried to be made her ashamed 
 of her tears. 
 
 There was a mingling of anxiety, pleading 
 apology, and shyness in the smile that trem- 
 bled on her lips and in her tearful eyes as 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 21 
 
 she stood looking at him. She put her finger 
 to her mouth and, turning her body this way 
 and that, said slowly, with an effort not to 
 cry, " Please don't go." 
 
 He did not know what to say to her. 
 He realized that argument would be thrown 
 away. His heart responded to the affection of 
 the child, and it was with an unwonted mois- 
 ture in his own eyes that he turned away. 
 
 When she saw that in spite of everything 
 she could do, he had left her, she turned 
 abruptly and ran as fast as she could in the 
 opposite direction. She did not know where 
 she was running. She did not care where 
 she went. She wanted only to get away from 
 the mysterious trouble that beset her. 
 
 When Mr. Alexander was again upon the 
 raft with Jean Pilliod, he asked him concern- 
 ing the little girl and her parents, and found 
 that her father was all that he had feared. 
 He was not harsh or positively evil. He 
 rather lacked good qualities than possessed 
 vices. Among the loungers around the hotel 
 of the village or in the society that gathered 
 on the sidewalk of a summer's evening before 
 the stores, he was the best of company. He 
 seldom drank to excess, and if he did, it only 
 
22 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 served to liberate a merry and good-natured 
 spirit. At other times, he was quiet and 
 rather subdued. He could sit all day in his 
 boat, anchored in the midst of the stream, 
 beneath a blazing sun, and fish, taking his 
 good fortune and his bad with indifference. 
 If his catch were good, he would take it to 
 the village, spend his money liberally as long 
 as it lasted, and return to his hut late at night, 
 troubled with a genuine regret that he had 
 not had enough for the things he knew were 
 necessary to the comfort of his family. His 
 wife had married him when she was a young 
 girl, affectionate and simple-minded, and had 
 lived her life apparently without even a 
 thought of discontent. She was by nature 
 a good wife and mother, one of those who 
 respond quickly to whatever surrounds them; 
 who give without any consideration of self- 
 interest all they possess to the first love 
 that is offered. Had this come to her in 
 the person of a noble lover, she would have 
 become a beautiful woman. She was dying 
 from privation of soul and body, but she had 
 no anxiety for herself ; no complaint against 
 her lot. She never compared her life with 
 what it might have been. It was not her 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 23 
 
 imagination that made her fear for her daugh- 
 ter, but the tender heart of a mother quaking 
 at a thousand threatening evils rising half 
 formed and scarcely recognized from her own 
 experiences. 
 
 When the two men had crossed the river 
 and ascended the bank upon the other side, 
 they turned of one accord to look back upon 
 the island. This final glance backward had 
 become a habit with Jean Pilliod. His eyes 
 were still very bright, but his sight was grow- 
 ing dim, so that he could scarcely distinguish 
 an object fifty feet from him. 
 
 " I will wait here," said Mr. Alexander, 
 "until the vespers ring." Jean Pilliod smiled 
 and shook his head. 
 
 " I don't need to wait for the bell-ringers 
 any longer. Since I have grown deaf, I hear 
 them all the time." 
 
 " Can you still see across your island ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I can see much farther than that 
 now. It becomes clearer every day, and I 
 seem to see much that escaped me when my 
 sight was good." 
 
 They laughed together, for Minot Alexan- 
 der understood what he meant. 
 
 Jean Pilliod trudged away between the two 
 
24 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 lines of thorny locusts that lined the path 
 leading to the village, and Mr. Alexander 
 found a comfortable slope on the edge of the 
 bluff, where he might recline while waiting 
 for the vespers. It was that time of the day 
 when two-thirds of the earth lies in shadow. 
 The sunlight seen in patches seemed even 
 more brilliant than when falling in an un- 
 broken flood upon the earth at midday. At 
 this time, the light, no longer glaring, glows, 
 wherever it touches, with a pure, soft brill- 
 iance. The shadow of the banks slowly 
 extended across the river; the green of the 
 island grew softer, deeper, and more alluring. 
 All the light left the valley, except far down 
 the river where it shone and sparkled like 
 some radiant creature just poising for its 
 flight. 
 
 Then from the village behind him came 
 the first solemn peal of a bell, full and mel- 
 low, a deep and fitting voice for the twilight 
 and the scene. As it floated over the river, 
 it gave expression to the beauty everywhere, 
 and brought him satisfaction and content. 
 He closed his eyes and listened. A peace- 
 ful silence followed, and then came the answer 
 from a bell across the river. It was only a 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 25 
 
 single note that reached him, dying with the 
 spent breeze that bore it. It was faint and 
 clear, and of so pure and sweet a tone, that 
 it might have been struck from a bell in the 
 belfries of fairyland. Again and again the 
 deep voice behind him filled the air with its 
 melody, and the faint reply fell from the 
 silence that followed like a pearl of sound. 
 When it was over, he remained for a moment 
 watching the last of the light as it blazed on 
 the point of the spire of the Church of Our 
 Lady, standing near the bluff of the river 
 in Perrysburg. When this had passed and 
 twinkling lights began to appear in the vil- 
 lage, he rose to leave. As he walked along 
 the bank, he saw, close to the edge, the tall 
 figure of a young priest. His arms were 
 folded, his head was bowed. He was repeat- 
 ing a poem, but so softly that only the pleas- 
 ant murmur of his voice could be heard. 
 Mr. Alexander recognized Father L'Amora, 
 the curate of the Church of Our Lady. 
 
 " Good evening," he said. The priest 
 looked up and smiled. 
 
 " Do you just happen to be here," he said, 
 " or have you also come on purpose ? " 
 
 " I have walked all the way from the city, 
 
26 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 twelve miles, to look at the island and the 
 river, and to hear the bells." 
 
 " The strange thing is," replied the priest, 
 " that your doing so should seem strange. 
 To think that you alone from a city of a 
 hundred thousand should have come ! " 
 
 " But why are you here ? " asked Mr. Alex- 
 ander. " Do you find this view better than 
 your own from Perrysburg? " 
 
 " When the wind is blowing from the east, 
 I must come over here to get the full effect 
 of the bells. I often wonder what need the 
 church can have for its priests. These bells 
 are the true ministers of religion." 
 
 He turned again to the view before him, 
 and, stretching his arm toward the glowing, 
 dark water of the river and shadowy island, 
 added, as if forgetting the presence of 
 another : 
 
 " Oh, how can men live in the midst of 
 such beauty and still do evil? Even here, 
 there is suffering and want." 
 
 During the long walk home, Mr. Alexander 
 thought, now and then, of these words of the 
 priest, for they expressed something of his 
 own reflections. The woman dying in her 
 hut and the fate of the little girl troubled 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 27 
 
 him. It seemed to him that there, of all 
 places, life should be joyous. The child with 
 her flushed cheeks, her bright, expressive 
 eyes, her sunny and sympathetic nature, 
 haunted him. He could almost fancy that 
 she was still walking by his side, her hand 
 in his. He found himself smiling at the 
 memory of some quaint observation she 
 had made. He saw her in the midst of the 
 fields, surrounded by the sunlight and the 
 flowers, her hair stirring in the wind, and 
 he thought: 
 
 " I wish this little soul could be kept pure 
 and untroubled and childlike ; that this one 
 life, at least, could be always joyous. She is 
 a true human flower, a very blossom of that 
 fertile island, fresh and lovely with the dew 
 of the morning still upon it." 
 
 When he reached the city, he went to his 
 apartments at the club. He ate his dinner 
 alone, as was his custom. When it was 
 finished, he lighted his pipe and sat for a 
 long time with the light turned low, thinking 
 and smoking. 
 
 At last he took an envelope from the 
 desk beside him and thoughtfully addressed 
 it to 
 
28 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 SISTER PELAGIA, 
 Mother Superior, 
 
 Convent of our Lady of Peace. 
 
 Then, taking some fine note paper from 
 one of the drawers, he placed it carefully 
 before him with something in his manner 
 suggestive of a caress, and resting his head 
 upon his hand, wrote the following letter : 
 
 " DEAR BETTY : I have this day met with a little girl, 
 a child of the fields. She is as fresh from the heart of 
 nature as the tender pink and white anemones she was 
 gathering. Her world has, so far, been bounded by the 
 placid river that surrounds the island where she lives. 
 The winds, the birds, the wild flowers, and a boy about 
 her own age, as innocent as she, have been her play- 
 mates. 
 
 " I write to you after several years, because I have 
 again spent a happy day and my heart is again filled with 
 the impulses, the dreams of youth and of hope, which, in 
 me, must always belong to you. 
 
 " My own experience has taught me, and all that I see 
 adds to the belief, that sensitive and affectionate beings, 
 who alone might experience perfect happiness, are de- 
 prived of their birthright by the haphazard habits of the 
 world the carelessness of destiny which allows them to 
 become entangled with the passions before they are wise 
 enough to understand them. For such natures love is a 
 flame that may either illuminate or consume the soul. It 
 separated you and me and rendered our lives lonely and 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 29 
 
 desolate. It has brought to others even greater disasters. 
 It is the greatest of all the dangers that threaten the inno- 
 cent and the pure in heart. Those who are capable of 
 love are exposed to its influence at an age when the civi- 
 lization to which they are accountable is a vast mystery, a 
 thing of unknown laws and customs. Love is as real as 
 the world is strange. It is as foreign to the laws and 
 customs of the world as their own souls. It is a master, 
 also, that takes no account of any other needs of those 
 whom it visits. It possesses the heart before the judg- 
 ment is formed, while the mind is still ignorant of itself, 
 when the fancy is still busy with its far-away flights, before 
 the country close about us has been explored. We are 
 then like young birds caught in a tempest. That which 
 should be the source of our happiness becomes the cause 
 of our disaster. If, thirty years ago, you and I had known 
 ourselves or understood anything of life or the world, we 
 would not have been separated by a misunderstanding 
 which was significant only because of the intensity of the 
 love that caused it. Perhaps you have found as great a 
 joy in religion as love would have brought you. The 
 church may be more to you than a home could have 
 been. But I doubt it. As for me, I am lonely and my 
 life is empty. 
 
 " If I could, in some way, become a part of another life 
 and be an instrument in its happiness, I might then find 
 some satisfaction in my own. I fancy that if this child I 
 found to-day could be surrounded by gentle and wise af- 
 fection, her life freed from anxiety and filled with interest 
 and simple pleasure, and her heart protected from the 
 dangers of a too youthful passion, she would become a 
 beautiful and a happy woman, a creature to delight in. 
 
30 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " I would like to try this experiment, but how can I, an 
 old bachelor, undertake such a thing? A young child 
 must feel a thousand needs that I would not understand. 
 How could I secure an education for her without subject- 
 ing her to all that I would avoid ? But my day's adven- 
 ture has been good for me if nothing more comes from it. 
 I have been happy. I have had a pleasant dream. Hope 
 has revisited my heart for a moment at least, and I have 
 once more been able to talk to you." 
 
 As Hilda was running from her trouble at 
 the departure of Mr. Alexander, she came 
 upon the boy, who was busily carrying the 
 loose stones from the water's edge and laying 
 them in rows on the summit of a little knoll. 
 
 She stopped abruptly when she saw him 
 and watched him for a few moments in 
 silence. Then she slowly approached and 
 said, " What are you doing, Pierre ? " 
 
 " I am building a city," said the boy. 
 
 " Can I help you ? " she asked wistfully ; 
 for although Pierre was gentle and affection- 
 ate toward her always, and glad when she 
 joined him at his play, he seemed also to be 
 perfectly happy alone, and she was never 
 quite sure that he loved her or needed her 
 until she had asked. , 
 
 " Here is your palace," he replied. " I 
 made that first. You sit there and watch 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 31 
 
 me while I bring the stones. This is to be 
 our own city where we will be Prince and 
 Princess. Anything you want I will build 
 for you." 
 
 He led her to the knoll, and they stepped 
 over the wall of the city. Her palace was a 
 little heap of rocks that he had arranged like 
 a seat. 
 
 " How nice ! " cried the girl as she looked 
 proudly about and arranged herself, on the 
 throne provided for her, as best she could, 
 considering the shortness of her skirts and 
 her lack of a purple robe. 
 
 How she wished and wished and wished 
 that her dress were long and full and flowing ! 
 
 In fact, she wished so hard for this that 
 the good fairy who attends to the wishes of 
 children heard and, behold ! presently, as she 
 sat upon her throne in the midst of the fields, 
 her short gown of patched cambric was 
 changed into a trailing robe of silk as green 
 as the fresh grass at her feet. A cloak of 
 purple velvet fell from her shoulders. A 
 golden girdle was about her waist and, 
 though she never once looked at her feet, she 
 knew that the ugly, thick, black shoes with 
 holes in the toes had been whisked away and 
 
32 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 in their place had come two crimson slippers 
 with satin bows, and silk stockings to match. 
 She was very happy. She smiled content- 
 edly upon Pierre, as he brought more 
 stones, extending the long rows or building 
 little heaps. 
 
 " Shall I sing to you," she asked, " or shall 
 I play for you upon my lute ? " 
 
 " Come on," said Pierre, joyfully, " we will run 
 down to the marsh and make us each a lute." 
 
 She jumped up from her throne and began 
 to scamper away with him, at first forgetting 
 the length of her green gown. When she 
 remembered this, she stopped and, catching 
 up the dragging train, fastened it with a 
 jewelled clasp to her girdle. This done, she 
 chased with all her might after Pierre. 
 
 When they reached the marsh, Pierre took 
 off his shoes and stockings and splashing 
 bravely through the wet grass and a little 
 way into the water, gathered a handful of 
 reeds and brought them to the land. These 
 were quickly converted into perfect lutes, the 
 kind that need neither knowledge nor expe- 
 rience to play, but which, when placed to the 
 lips of children, send forth, of their own 
 accord, those divine melodies and fantastic 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 33 
 
 airs that art and maturity, with their more 
 conventional instruments, are forever trying 
 to recall. 
 
 Slowly they returned, a long procession of 
 knights and ladies, dwarfs and pages, fal- 
 cons flying over-head, hounds straining at the 
 leash, their steeds champing at the bits and 
 dangling the golden chains of their trap- 
 pings. This glorious cavalcade wound along 
 the edge of the island and entered the city 
 on the hill to the sound of the lu^e, just as 
 the sunlight was lifting from the fields. 
 
 " Oh dear," said the girl as the green 
 gown and purple cloak, the girdle, the slip- 
 pers, and the stockings vanished with the sun, 
 " I suppose I must go home." 
 
 " I am coming back here to-night," said 
 the boy, " and be a watchman at the gate." 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE garden and greenhouses of Christo- 
 pher Mott had once been on the outskirts 
 of the city in a hollow near the old cemetery. 
 The little enclosure still left to him was all 
 that retained any likeness to the region as it 
 was when he established himself there. The 
 hills that had surrounded him had been 
 levelled, and buildings had sprung from the 
 meadows. The cemetery itself had disap- 
 peared, except a few graves in the immediate 
 vicinity of a chapel still standing. All the 
 rest had been removed a few miles fur- 
 ther out, and on the property, stores and 
 dwelling houses had been built. The chapel 
 was never used, the graves about it were 
 seldom visited, except by the curious or the 
 idle. A tall iron fence separated it from the 
 noisy, brazen world that drove its bargains 
 and pursued its pleasures on either side. 
 
 In the old days when the open fields sur- 
 rounded him and his nearest neighbours were 
 
 34 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 35 
 
 the silent people of the cemetery, Christo- 
 pher Mott was as comfortable and prosper- 
 ous as he wished to be. You might fancy 
 that this encompassing of the great city 
 about him would have made him rich. It 
 was his ruin. The princes of nature have 
 ever been the paupers of civilization. Chris- 
 topher Mott was one of those human beings 
 who seem to be related to the soil, not by 
 their occupations alone, but by the ties of 
 a natural and deep affection. He was not 
 the slave of the earth, but its child. The 
 creatures of his own garden were those 
 younger members of his household left in 
 his charge. When he looked over his fences 
 or strolled occasionally through the fields, 
 all that grew about him appealed to him as 
 the more distant members of his family. He 
 did not feel the sense of responsibility, nor 
 the same degree of personal interest in them 
 that he did in the plants of his garden, but 
 his affection for them was of the same nature. 
 He lived alone with his daughter. His wife, 
 whom he had loved as happily as though she 
 had been a geranium of his own raising, had 
 died when Primrose was a child. Since her 
 mother's death, Primrose had so completely 
 
36 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 grown into her place, making the house 
 always comfortable, working by her father's 
 side in the garden and greenhouses, that old 
 Christopher Mott really forgot that he had 
 ever had any other mate than she. She 
 looked like her mother, was quiet and cheer- 
 ful and busy as she had been. In the old 
 days his wife had stood every Sunday, from 
 morning until night, in the summer-house, 
 making prim bouquets of garden flowers for 
 visitors at the cemetery. Now, thirty years 
 later, he would sometimes look in the 
 summer-house and see what might very well 
 have been the same slender little woman, 
 with the same sweet, homely, wrinkled 
 face, making exactly the same kind of bou- 
 quets, stiff and uncompromising in form, 
 but a gorgeous mixture of colours. No 
 wonder he was a little confused as to her 
 exact identity, for time passes on tiptoe 
 by such as he. He did not realize that 
 he, himself, was older than he had always 
 been. The city grew about him. His three 
 acres were enclosed by brick buildings. 
 Trucks and delivery wagons constantly rum- 
 bled and clattered over the pavement past his 
 gate. At first all this had been a great 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARC AD Y 37 
 
 trouble to him. As the years passed, he 
 adapted himself to the new conditions. There 
 was still quite a patch in the centre of his 
 garden where such flowers as required sun- 
 light would grow, and he utilized the borders 
 for shrubs and vines and plants that would 
 thrive in the shade. He planted ivy near 
 the foundations of the buildings as they rose 
 about him, and the walls, covered with the 
 green leaves whose movements and whisper- 
 ings he could understand, no longer annoyed 
 him. He became accustomed to the cries of 
 teamsters, the rumbling and clattering of their 
 wagons, all the clamour of the street. It was 
 some distance from him and was concealed 
 by hydrangea, syringa, and lilac bushes. He 
 could now sit on the porch of his cottage in 
 the twilight and look upon his garden, or he 
 could work over his beds all day, unconscious 
 of the life and confusion about him. 
 
 When the city was still but an overgrown 
 town, with homely tastes and manners, and 
 he was the only florist, he was able to endure 
 the demands of trade, for he could compel 
 them to his own notions. His customers 
 were all good housewives who cared for their 
 plants with their own hands, and only came 
 
38 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 to him now and then to secure some little 
 addition to the family of geraniums, fuchsias, 
 and begonias, dwelling comfortably, as he 
 knew, in the sunny south window of the 
 sitting-room. When such purchasers called, 
 he could enjoy wandering through his green- 
 houses with them, discussing the ailments of 
 this mutual friend, and the best way of plant- 
 ing or pruning or making cuttings from that 
 one. This kind of neighbourly accommoda- 
 tion was not commerce. He only sold what 
 he could best spare, and he knew just where 
 every plant he parted with was going, and the 
 good care it would receive. If some upstart 
 entered his premises, plainly ignorant of plants 
 or considering them only as things for show, 
 Mr. Christopher Mott had nothing to sell, and 
 would hastily slip away, leaving the brisk pur- 
 chaser alone with his astonishment or wrath. 
 He had once been prevailed upon to rent 
 out some hundred plants to a lady who was 
 among the first to introduce formal recep- 
 tions with decorations and light refreshments. 
 The reception was on Saturday evening, and 
 he did not get the plants back until Monday. 
 The house was heated by a furnace, and the 
 dry, hot air and rough handling had pro- 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 39 
 
 duced sad effects. The earth in the pots 
 was hard and dry, and the blossoms and the 
 leaves had been damaged. This offence was 
 never repeated. More and more he learned 
 to dread the sound of the gate as it opened, 
 and when he heard feet upon his gravel walk, 
 he would spy out upon the intruder, ready 
 to disappear if he should look to be a mere 
 purchaser. 
 
 The property increased to many times its 
 original value. He could have sold it on 
 frequent occasions and realized a comfortable 
 fortune. When a place has once become a 
 home to such a nature, it no longer has a 
 price. The soul seems in some mysterious 
 manner to be rooted there. Poverty, sick- 
 ness, all manner of sorrows, and even death, 
 will be endured more calmly than the 
 thought of removing from that particular 
 plot of ground, that one house which has 
 become home, even though to move would 
 bring relief. Christopher Mott saw the 
 fields receding from him with regret. But 
 he would rather sit in his accustomed place, 
 surrounded as it was by a thousand enemies, 
 and dream of the sights and sounds he loved, 
 the broad, open meadows, the distant line 
 
40 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 of the woodland, the wind, the changing hues 
 of the clouds, the birds, than to follow 
 them and fix his tabernacle in new places. 
 
 When men came to him with offers to buy, 
 he was both indignant and alarmed. He did 
 not listen to their terms. He could not have 
 told if he had been offered one or a hundred 
 times a thousand. He looked upon these 
 offers as some threat, some treacherous and 
 terrible design upon him. He was one of 
 those who, much alone and silent, live in their 
 feelings and their speculations, a life entirely 
 independent of judgment. Their emotions 
 are in no way influenced by what they know. 
 If any one should ask this old eccentric why 
 his taxes increased from year to year, he 
 would answer that it was because the value 
 of the land increased. But, at once for- 
 getting this sane conclusion, he would still 
 feel the same vague apprehension of the city 
 and look upon its growing levy as a deliber- 
 ate design to take his home from him. 
 
 It became more and more difficult to meet 
 the necessary expenses. First, one of his glass 
 houses and then another became dilapidated 
 and was abandoned ; for what with defective 
 pipes, missing panes of glass, and widening 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 41 
 
 crevices, it was no longer possible to keep 
 them warm in winter. The benches, as they 
 decayed, could not be replaced, for lumber 
 was much more expensive than it was once, 
 and the stream of money that used to trickle 
 naturally into the leather pool he called his 
 purse, had for some reason ceased to flow. 
 As these changes occurred, his habits also 
 changed. Living always among his plants, 
 he had become so familiar with them that all 
 their habits and needs were as plain to him 
 as his own. They were real beings that con- 
 stantly needed his care and grew into his af- 
 fections. His old plants were his old people, 
 who sedately occupied their tubs and peace- 
 fully relied upon him for protection, suste- 
 nance, and the gratification of their increasing 
 whims. His young plants were gay little 
 beings, brought into the world with his assis- 
 tance, ignorant of the thousand dangers 
 awaiting them. How carefully he watched 
 over them, giving them the sunlight, the 
 shade, the water, the nourishment they 
 needed, and taking every day a pleasure in 
 their innocent enjoyment. He saw them 
 grow, he noted how their little leaves laughed 
 in the breeze and how their blossoms popped 
 
42 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 open when he had planted them safely in 
 the garden beds, and his heart grew tender 
 toward them like that of a wise and watchful 
 father as he sees the happiness of his rosy- 
 cheeked children at their play. 
 
 For years he had done all this, noting 
 many things that would escape most peo- 
 ple. His knowledge was not made known, 
 for he lived with these creatures as a mem- 
 ber of a family and not as an observer with 
 theories to exploit. The revelations that 
 came to him constantly concerning the 
 nature and ways of his plants were of ab- 
 sorbing interest to him because he loved 
 them. It never occurred to him to make 
 known what he learned. As the houses 
 were abandoned and the labour of caring for 
 the plants grew less, the conduct of the busi- 
 ness, such as it was, fell gradually to Prim- 
 rose, and he devoted himself more and more 
 to the pursuit of special interests. He took 
 some of the framework and glass from the 
 abandoned houses and built for himself a 
 small place in the midst of the garden, its 
 glass sides exposed to the sun, where he 
 could doctor his invalids and follow any 
 experiment that might lead him. 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 43 
 
 Primrose had but one small house to at- 
 tend to. This was heated by a stove at each 
 end, and by a row of large lamps suspended 
 down the centre. In this house was gathered 
 all that her father had kept from his former 
 stock. A century plant, two huge rubber 
 trees, and a phoenix palm, an orange tree, 
 two sicas, an oleander and an abutilon, all 
 in monstrous tubs, that could scarcely be 
 lifted by four men. These and some fifty 
 other patriarchs, utterly worthless as com- 
 merce, occupied most of the space. They 
 would stand there forever and bring not a 
 penny for their keep, but to Christopher 
 Mott they furnished the only real necessity 
 for maintaining this remaining house. He 
 still grew a small supply of young gera- 
 niums, fuchsias, and begonias, for a few old 
 customers who maintained the south win- 
 dow families. Every fall Primrose made 
 thousands of cuttings from salvia, sweet will- 
 iams, petunias, mignonette, and verbenas for 
 the next year's beds of these housewives, 
 and for her father's garden. She sowed the 
 seed of pansies, forget-me-nots, and daisies, 
 in little pans, transplanted them in boxes, and 
 finally placed them in rows about three inches 
 
44 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 apart in the cold-frames between the green- 
 houses and the kitchen. Her father was 
 willing for her to sell such of these in the 
 spring as he did not need, because he knew 
 they would, of course, be bought only for the 
 garden. 
 
 One day, however, as he was passing a 
 grocery store, during one of his rare walks 
 through the city, he saw a display of young 
 pansy plants, primroses, and daisies, on the 
 sidewalk. They were packed loosely into 
 shallow boxes and left exposed to the dust 
 drifting in from the street, the sweep of 
 women's dresses, the sticks of small boys, 
 and the insults of every dog that passed. 
 The dirt about them was very dry. They 
 drooped dejectedly. Blossoms hung in 
 shreds from their wilted stocks, or, com- 
 pletely severed from them, blew to the walk 
 and were crushed under foot. This was a 
 horrible sight to Christopher Mott. 
 
 " How do I know," he thought, " but that 
 such scoundrels as this grocer are among 
 my customers ? " 
 
 He returned hastily to his own neighbour- 
 hood and investigated for several blocks in 
 all directions. Here and there he saw a simi- 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 45 
 
 lar unfeeling treatment of the young plants, 
 and hurried home in great distress. 
 
 " Primrose," he called, " Primrose," as soon 
 as the gate was closed behind him. It was 
 some distance down a gravelled walk from 
 the gate to the house. The garden spread 
 in all directions. Here was a group of flower 
 beds, here a patch of shrubs, there an arbour 
 covered with grapevines or clematis, and 
 there a clump of fruit trees. The only lawn 
 was about these small orchards. The re- 
 mainder of the ground was divided into 
 flower and vegetable beds of all shapes and 
 sizes. He looked here and there for Prim- 
 rose. He found her in the greenhouse with 
 a stranger. He had evidently bought a few 
 plants that were standing in a little group 
 by themselves, and was now concluding an 
 arrangement with her. 
 
 " Of course," he was saying, " it will be 
 quite a trouble for you, and I will expect to 
 pay for that; or I will have a messenger from 
 the club call every morning for it, if you 
 would prefer. That would cost me a quarter. 
 If you would rather deliver it yourself, I will 
 pay thirty-five cents." 
 
 Christopher Mott had now joined them, 
 
46 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 and was looking inquiringly from his daughter 
 to the stranger. 
 
 " This gentleman," said Primrose, in reply 
 to his look, " wishes me to send him a car- 
 nation every morning." 
 
 " May I ask your name ? " said Mr. Mott, 
 casting an anxious glance at the plants he 
 was about to lose. 
 
 " Minot Alexander. I live at the City Club." 
 
 " Are these some plants you have selected ? " 
 
 " Yes, I wanted a few for my room." 
 
 " Do you have furnace heat ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, I am afraid I can't spare these 
 plants just now." 
 
 Mr. Alexander looked the astonishment 
 he felt. 
 
 "The carnation, of course we could give 
 you, but it is quite a distance to the club." 
 
 " I was just saying to your daughter that 
 I would either send for it or pay thirty-five 
 cents for it delivered." 
 
 " Oh, that is too much. You can get one 
 for five cents at a store that has lately opened 
 just opposite you." 
 
 " But I would rather buy of you," said Mr. 
 Alexander. " The fact is, that I have often 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 47 
 
 walked by here just to look in upon your 
 flower beds, and your arbours, and pretty 
 cottage, and cool fruit orchard." 
 
 He did not add that the signs of distress 
 about the place had at last prompted him to 
 investigate. He began, however, to appreci- 
 ate something of the true situation. The 
 sympathy and interest awakened by the gen- 
 tle manners and pleasant simplicity of Prim- 
 rose was increased by the little glimpse he 
 had caught of the curious character of her 
 father. 
 
 "Of course," said Mr. Mott, doubtfully, 
 "if you wish to send for it, I suppose you 
 may." 
 
 " All right," replied Mr. Alexander, delighted 
 by this concession. " And now about the 
 plants ? " 
 
 " That is out of the question. I really 
 could not think of that. You see, they 
 would not do well with furnace heat. I am 
 afraid, if you are not accustomed to plants, 
 they would last only a very short time, any- 
 way." 
 
 " Then you don't sell to every one ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. I must know they will be taken 
 care of. I could not endure to think of my 
 
48 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 plants when they leave me unless I am sure 
 they are doing well." 
 
 This reminded him of the cause of his 
 anxious return. 
 
 " Primrose," he asked eagerly, " do you sell 
 anything to the grocers and storekeepers 
 about here ? " 
 
 " I have sold quite a good deal to them 
 this spring," she replied. 
 
 " Heavens ! " he cried, in considerable agi- 
 tation. " You must never do it again. You 
 don't know how they handle them. I have 
 just seen thousands of young pansies covered 
 with dust, torn and drooping, in dry dirt, with 
 the sun blazing on them, dying for want of 
 water and food." 
 
 Odd as was this appeal, Mr. Alexander 
 was affected by it. Whatever he might 
 think of the notions expressed, there was no 
 doubt about the sincerity of the strange old 
 fellow who held them. His distress was real. 
 His devotion, his purity of heart, and unself- 
 ishness shone in his face. This was the first 
 visit of Mr. Alexander, but in the years that 
 followed he was a more and more frequent 
 visitor. It became his custom to sit upon 
 the porch with Mr. Mott and Primrose for an 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 49 
 
 hour or so summer evenings, quietly contem- 
 plating the garden, breathing in the sweet 
 odours, and listening to the hum of the bees 
 and insects that hovered here until the dark- 
 ness came. 
 
 Poor Primrose had a sorry time of it in 
 the effort to meet such expenses as were 
 necessary. Fortunately, their table cost 
 them very little, living, as they did, almost 
 entirely on the vegetables and fruit they 
 grew. Now and then she would have to speak 
 to her father when some pressing need arose 
 and there was no money to meet it. The 
 first occasion of this sort occurred just after 
 Mr. Alexander's first visit. 
 
 "Dear father," she said, "the taxes are due, 
 and I have only a little of the amount. If I 
 can't sell to the storekeepers, what will I do ? 
 They were my best customers." 
 
 He made no reply, but during the day he 
 thought the matter over. The next morning 
 he rose early, and going to the shed, brought 
 forth a long push-cart that he used in his 
 garden. This he loaded with crates of pan- 
 sies, forget-me-nots, daisies, and sweet alyssum, 
 and a few boxes of primroses in pots. He 
 looked up at his daughter, who was stand- 
 
50 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 ing in the kitchen door, smiled cheerily, and 
 passed out upon the street with his load 
 before him. All the morning he trudged 
 through the streets, avoiding the teams, and 
 paying no heed to those who hailed him in 
 passing. He would not sell at hap-hazard. 
 He stopped only at homes in the quiet resi- 
 dence streets. If the woman who came to 
 the door pleased him, he would ask her a 
 few pointed questions to convince himself 
 that she knew a daisy from a dandelion, and, 
 if all was satisfactory, he would offer her his 
 wares in so persuasive a manner that he sel- 
 dom failed to sell when he wished to. He 
 left amused customers behind him, but car- 
 ried with him a heart that was satisfied. He 
 returned at night with empty boxes'. This 
 he repeated every day until he had placed in 
 his daughter's hand the money she needed. 
 After this, as often as Primrose came to him, 
 he resorted to his push-cart and the streets. 
 When, however, the season for planting out 
 of doors was past, it was not so easy a task. 
 It was more difficult to find customers, and, 
 worse still, it was harder to make a selection 
 to sell. The few hundred house plants he 
 still had room for were dear to him. If he 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 51 
 
 made cuttings and grew young ones, by the 
 time they were old enough to sell they were 
 hard to part from. He made a whimsical 
 and pathetic figure as he laboured over the 
 filling of his cart. Fine, thrifty creatures, 
 with gay blossoms, he was tempted to reject 
 because of his pride in them and his fear of 
 their misfortunes. It was like sending one's 
 handsome, wayward daughters into a world 
 where their very beauty and headstrong 
 innocence would tempt disaster. The less 
 shapely or defective plants he wished to 
 keep with him in pity. It usually became 
 necessary for him to call Primrose to his 
 help, on some pretext or another. Then he 
 would watch her, as it were, through half- 
 closed senses while she hastily seized this 
 plant and that, the very ones, perhaps, that 
 he had before placed upon the cart and 
 removed. 
 
 At last, however, even the trade of the 
 push-cart was not enough. The taxes in- 
 creased, the house must be repaired, clothes 
 that had been many times remade and 
 mended were worn out. 
 
 There was a mortgage of three thousand 
 dollars on the place, given to a loan com- 
 
52 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 pany when the greenhouses were first built. 
 It had been three years since the interest on 
 this had been paid. 
 
 Matters came to a crisis one evening with 
 a letter from the secretary of the loan com- 
 pany, informing him that something must be 
 done at once or the mortgage would be fore- 
 closed. The secretary appreciated the old 
 florist much more than might be expected 
 from so shrewd a man of business, and had 
 stood between him and the company for over 
 two years. There was to be a meeting of 
 the directors on the following morning, and 
 he knew that the Mott mortgage would be 
 one of the matters looked into. The taxes 
 for the half-year had not been met in Decem- 
 ber, and were still unpaid. This would be 
 discovered by the directors, and unless he had 
 something better to offer than persuasion or 
 excuses, they would direct him to foreclose. 
 
 " I want to help you," the secretary wrote, 
 "and you may be sure I will do my best. 
 Come down in the morning early and talk it 
 over. We may hit upon some plan, and 
 even if we don't, I can at least tell my board 
 that you have been to see me, and that we 
 are trying to." 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 53 
 
 Primrose read this letter to her father and 
 quietly resumed her sewing. He went into 
 the garden and walked slowly up and down 
 the paths, his hands behind him, his glance 
 fixed upon the ground. The full moon was 
 about an hour above the buildings and more 
 than half the garden was flooded by its 
 light. The dew sparkled like jewels on the 
 tips of the crisp leaves of the plants he had 
 that day set out. He walked over to see if 
 they were comfortable. He stood for a while 
 near his fruit trees, and it seemed to him that 
 the mere stirring of the wind in their branches 
 could not create the peculiar impression of 
 an awakening life they gave to him. 
 
 " It must be," he thought, " that the un- 
 folding of the leaves, though I can neither 
 hear nor see the process, is recognized by 
 some sense I am unconscious of." 
 
 This was a most important thought to 
 him, and he stood for a long time near his 
 trees, pondering, experimenting with him- 
 self, listening and examining closely. When 
 he returned to the house he had forgotten 
 the letter, nor did he think of it again until 
 the next morning, when Primrose reminded 
 him of it. 
 
54 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " You had better go down and see him," 
 she said. " I have grown a great many 
 verbenas, petunias, and geraniums for this 
 spring, and perhaps if we can pay them 
 something, they will wait." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I will go," replied her father, 
 cheerfully, for it was a warm, sunny morn- 
 ing. 
 
 He stood for a moment looking over his 
 garden complacently, and then started briskly 
 down the street toward the loan office. He 
 had only gone a little way when he met Mr. 
 Alexander, who stopped him, saying: " I was 
 just going to you. What a wonderful spring 
 this is. I was up the river yesterday and 
 spent the whole day on Pilliod's Island. 
 Come, I must tell you about it." 
 
 He began at the beginning, and at the 
 mention of the strange pink flower he had 
 tried to secure, Mr. Mott exclaimed : 
 
 " Was it a sweet pogonia ? Do you sup- 
 pose it could be ? " 
 
 "I don't know what it is. I have never 
 seen one like it before." 
 
 " Was the blossom shaped something like 
 a ladyslipper ? " 
 
 " Yes, but it was a beautiful, clear pink." 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 55 
 
 "Well, well," said Mr. Mott, intensely 
 interested. " I believe it was a sweet 
 pogonia. That is one of the finest of the 
 orchids, although it has never been talked 
 of much. It is certainly very rare around 
 here. I have never heard of one before, 
 though it might very well grow here. I 
 must certainly go up and see." 
 
 "But, that is not all I found," said Mr. 
 Alexander. " I think I have discovered what 
 I have wanted for many years, a child that 
 I can love and make happy." 
 
 They walked on together without any 
 conscious end in view, while Mr. Alexander 
 described his day on the island, his experi- 
 ences with the child, and his speculations 
 concerning her. 
 
 " Why don't you adopt her ? " asked Mr. 
 Mott, eagerly. 
 
 " I would like to. What do you think is 
 necessary for a young girl's happiness ? I 
 would certainly take her if her mother should 
 die and I were sure to make her happy." 
 
 " A nature that is simple and healthy," 
 replied Mr. Mott, "will be happy in the mere 
 act of living. The truest life is the most 
 natural one. Real happiness is a part of 
 
56 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 healthy growth. I doubt any one can expe- 
 rience a greater happiness than that of a 
 plum, if it is allowed to ripen and fall un- 
 molested." 
 
 " That is the trouble," said Mr. Alexander. 
 " Very few plums escape the worm or the 
 greedy bird, the rough wind or the hand of 
 the marauder. If I were to adopt this child, 
 I would want her to grow into womanhood, 
 learning to know herself, but ignorant of the 
 world. If she could hold to her ideals until 
 they were sufficient unto themselves, so that 
 she would afterward judge all that she met 
 by them, and not them by what she met, the 
 world could not harm her. I would like to 
 take her now while her heart and mind are 
 free, before she has begun to love and to 
 remember, and to give her an opportunity to 
 mature, free from the dangers of idealizing 
 some chance lover and making a hero of 
 him. That is what ruins the lives of the 
 fanciful and the affectionate." 
 
 "For my part," said Mr. Mott s "it seems 
 to me very easy to be happy. Life is a won- 
 derful thing. There is always some mystery 
 just about to be revealed, some long-pondered 
 question almost settled. Just last night a 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 57 
 
 marvellous possibility whispered to me as I 
 stood in the moonlight by my fruit trees. I 
 found myself suddenly listening to sounds 
 'I could not hear, looking at what I could not 
 see. I am certain now that all my life I 
 have been receiving impressions through 
 mediums unnamed as yet by our philoso- 
 phies. I often suddenly become conscious 
 of a communication between unknown things 
 and a being, perhaps many beings, within 
 myself, equally unknown. Here is a mys- 
 tery intense and alluring. I could never be 
 dull with such a thought to pursue." 
 
 As they walked and talked, the last houses 
 of the city were passed, and before they 
 knew it they found themselves upon a coun- 
 try road. Now, by common consent, con- 
 versation ceased. They lifted their heads a 
 little higher and looked silently far over the 
 fields. They took long breaths, and a 
 curious gleam of expectation lighted their 
 eyes. They were hunters just entering 
 upon familiar preserves; they were sailors, 
 long penned inland, just headed for the 
 sea ; they were two faithful old courtiers 
 in pursuit of an ancient coquette, ever 
 young. They were, in fact, two lovers of 
 
58 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 nature, who found themselves, unwittingly, 
 just over the borderland of spring. 
 
 A bird, evidently the first real songster to 
 have arrived, perched upon the fence near 
 them, shook its feathers briskly, picked once 
 or twice at its wing, tossed a gay, sweet song 
 into the air, and flew swiftly away through 
 the sunlight. 
 
 Here and there a tree or bush was bris- 
 tling with tiny green points where the leaves 
 were beginning to appear. The dull grey 
 of the fields was giving way to the green 
 of the new grass blades. They came to a 
 bridge, and the warm, smooth tops of the 
 stone supports tempted them. Here they 
 sat, their old legs dangling over the stream, 
 as happy as truants. So the hours passed. 
 It was late in the afternoon when Christopher 
 Mott, happy and hungry, reached home. As 
 soon as he appeared, Primrose bestirred her- 
 self. He was tired with his long trudge, 
 and was glad to drop into his rocker on 
 the porch. The odour of carrots and 
 turnips, and the sound of dried beef friz- 
 zling in hot butter in the frying-pan, came 
 cheerily from the kitchen. He heard the 
 oven door open and close and thought 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 59 
 
 perhaps there would be biscuit. And there 
 were. It was as rare a dinner, in fact, as he 
 had eaten in years. 
 
 " I have had a fine day," he said as he 
 leaned back in his chair, almost satisfied, 
 while Primrose poured his second cup of 
 tea. 
 
 " I am glad," she said. " Did you manage 
 everything all right with the loan company ? " 
 
 "What do you mean?" exclaimed Mr. 
 Mott, aghast. He knew well enough, but 
 the remembrance of his neglected mission 
 came so suddenly from such a complete 
 and blissful forgetfulness, that he cried out 
 as one might dodge a blow that has already 
 been dealt. 
 
 "About the mortgage," replied Primrose, 
 wondering what the trouble could be. 
 
 " I did not go," he said, in confusion, trying 
 to recall just how he had come to forget. 
 
 " But, father," said the girl, anxiously, " I 
 am afraid they will not wait any longer." 
 
 He noticed the distress in her eyes, and 
 suddenly his own soul was plunged in misery. 
 He was, all at once, without a moment's 
 weighing of the matter, as sure of the loss 
 of his place as if he were already torn from 
 
60 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 it. A vision of the bedraggled and suffering 
 plants he had seen exposed to the mercy of 
 the streets appeared to him, and he imagined 
 himself already in a similar plight. It was 
 not poverty he feared. He did not think of 
 that. He did not even consider that the 
 place, if sold, would bring enough to establish 
 him in luxurious quarters for life and give 
 him an independent income. To leave his 
 home, to see his trees cut down, his shrubs 
 uprooted, his flower beds trampled upon and 
 destroyed, would be his death. All his terror 
 of the city returned to him. While he had 
 been discoursing on the beauty of life with 
 his friend, the tragedy of life had caught him 
 by the coat tails. He rose from the table 
 and went mechanically into the garden. He 
 stood in the midst of his flowers, seeing 
 nothing. His heart was full of fear. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 FOR the first time in his life, Christopher 
 Mott spent a sleepless night. Just before 
 morning he fell into a doze, but at five 
 o'clock, his hour for rising, he woke with a 
 start. He lay quietly, for a moment, wonder- 
 ing what had happened. He seemed to be 
 in a strange place. He could hardly distin- 
 guish the objects about him ; they were 
 vague of outline and unreal. His head hurt 
 him and he wished to rub it, but his hand 
 was too heavy to lift. " I must get up," he 
 thought. 
 
 He again opened his eyes, and this time he 
 was very much startled. It was about mid- 
 night. He could tell that by the stillness, 
 by the tones of the ticking clock, by the 
 look of the world through the window. A 
 moment before, the pale light of the morning 
 had been about him, and now it was night 
 again. That was very strange. His head 
 felt better, but he was weak. Perhaps he 
 
 61 
 
62 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 was dreaming. He was certainly passing a 
 very restless night. He would try and sleep 
 and not dream. He heard a movement in 
 the room, and his heart stood still. He 
 listened and was sure that some one was near 
 him. He turned his head slowly, silently, on 
 the pillow and looked. He could distinguish 
 a dim figure near the window. There was a 
 man sitting in his rocker. 
 
 He tried to speak, but it was some time 
 before he could hear himself say, " Who are 
 you ? " 
 
 His voice was too feeble. It could not be 
 heard. He remembered now that he had 
 tried to speak before in his dreams and no 
 one heard him. 
 
 " I will sleep," he said, " and not dream." 
 
 He tried to recall what he had been so dis- 
 tressed about before going to bed. Then he 
 remembered that it was because he could not 
 make the young salvias and coleus he was 
 planting stay in the ground. It had been ter- 
 rible. As fast as he put them in their holes 
 they popped out again. If by dint of great 
 quickness and exertion he managed to finish a 
 row, he would look back when the end was 
 reached and see them all stretched upon the 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 63 
 
 ground, with every fibre of their roots shaken 
 free from the moist dirt, dry and wilting in 
 the sun. He shuddered again to think of it. 
 
 " But look," said the wind in the cherry 
 trees above him, for he was now standing in 
 the cool shade of an orchard, "why do you 
 worry ? There are all your young plants 
 standing upright and stiff. They are 
 already fast rooted. You can see how fat 
 with sap their stalks and stems are. And 
 look at the branches of these cherry trees ! 
 Did you ever see such a mass of blossoms ? " 
 He noticed then how fragrant was the air 
 and how fresh and green the grass. He 
 lay down under the blossoms and, closing 
 his eyes, passed into a happy, dreamless 
 sleep. When he awoke, the sun was shining 
 brightly into his room. He was surprised 
 to find himself in bed. He saw Primrose 
 sitting by the window, sewing. 
 
 " How did I come to be here ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh, father,'* cried Primrose, jumping 
 from her chair. Then, as if recovering 
 from a great surprise and as if remembering 
 a part she had learned, she resumed her 
 seat and began to rock and sew. " Have 
 
64 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 you slept well ? " she asked pleasantly, as if 
 nothing had occurred. 
 
 " It must be very late," said her father, 
 feebly, trying in vain to raise himself in bed. 
 She put her sewing down quietly and went 
 over to him. She pressed him gently back 
 upon the pillow, kissed him, and stroked his 
 hair. 
 
 " Don't worry about getting up," she said ; 
 " you are weak, and must be very quiet for 
 a while yet." 
 
 "What is the trouble?" he asked anx- 
 iously. "Am I sick?" 
 
 " You are nearly well now," she said cheer- 
 fully. " The doctor says that in a few days 
 more you will be better than ever." 
 
 " Has the doctor been here ? I didn't 
 know it." He remembered the man by the 
 window in the night, and wondered if it 
 were he. 
 
 " It was foolish of me," he said, partly to 
 himself, " to go to sleep on the ground. How 
 did you bring me in ? " 
 
 Primrose was startled. She thought he 
 must be still delirious. 
 
 " You must have dreamed that," she said. 
 
 " Perhaps I did. Of course I dreamed 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 65 
 
 it, for the cherry trees are not in blossom 
 yet." 
 
 He closed his eyes, and Primrose, thinking 
 he would again fall asleep, went noiselessly 
 back to the window. But he was not sleep- 
 ing. He said presently: 
 
 " Primrose, what was I worried about last 
 night? It could not have been about the 
 verbenas and coleus I must have dreamed 
 that, too." 
 
 He laughed to himself at the thought of 
 the queer tricks they had played on him. 
 
 " It is not even time to plant them yet." 
 
 " There is nothing to worry about," said 
 Primrose. " All you need do is to be quiet 
 and comfortable and get well." 
 
 Suddenly Mr. Mott opened his eyes wide 
 and sniffed the air. 
 
 " What do I smell ? " he asked eagerly. 
 " It can't be cherry blossoms. And yet I 
 surely smell them. Am I still dreaming? 
 Tell me, Primrose." 
 
 Primrose looked out of the window a 
 moment, and then coming again to the 
 bedside said gently : 
 
 " You are awake, father. The trees are in 
 bloom. If you will just rest quietly and not 
 
66 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 worry for a few days, you will be up and see 
 them for yourself." 
 
 " How long have I been sick ? " 
 
 " Almost two weeks." 
 
 " Almost two weeks ? " he repeated. He 
 lay for a long time with his eyes closed, 
 while Primrose lightly rubbed his forehead 
 and temples. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Mr. Alexander passed very little of his 
 leisure in the general rooms of the club. 
 He preferred a quiet evening with his books 
 by his own lamp and table. In the company 
 of his pipe and Sir Walter Scott he felt much 
 more sociable and at home than with most 
 of his acquaintances. Men thought him 
 rather cold and reserved, but they held him 
 in profound respect, for he was both honour- 
 able and rich. 
 
 " He knows how to make money," they 
 said, " but his heart is a dried apple." 
 
 They did not hear him chuckle nor see 
 the moisture in his eyes when alone up there 
 in his room with his invisible companions. 
 
 The evening after his stroll into the coun- 
 try with Mr. Mott, he stopped for a few 
 moments in the library of the club. This 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 67 
 
 room was called the library, and, in fact, 
 there were a number of books in orderly 
 rows, securely locked in richly decorated 
 cases along one side of the room. The keys 
 to these cases had been lost several years, 
 but no one had missed them. It was a com- 
 fortable room, however, and the rack on 
 which the daily papers hung was well pat- 
 ronized. When Mr. Alexander entered, two 
 gentlemen were lounging comfortably in big 
 leather chairs, reading their papers and smok- 
 ing. They were Mr. Nathan and Mr. Alden, 
 the one a director of the People's Loan Com- 
 pany, the other its secretary. 
 
 " Hello, Alexander," said Mr. Alden. " I 
 see you were on the right side of the wheat 
 excitement, as usual." 
 
 "Was I?" replied Mr. Alexander, indif- 
 ferently. " I told my boys to buy this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 He looked over the other's shoulders and 
 saw a long report of the day's doings on 
 'Change. He was reported as among the 
 heavy operators and his profits were enor- 
 mous. 
 
 " It was a good day for you," said Mr. 
 Nathan, pleasantly. 
 
68 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " Indeed, it was," replied Mr. Alexander. 
 " I spent it along a country road with my 
 old friend Mott. I wonder that they don't 
 adjourn the board for a few weeks in the 
 spring. I will propose it to-morrow." He 
 indulged in a grim smile at the thought 
 of the reception such a proposal would 
 receive. 
 
 "That Mott," said Mr. Alden, "is a queer 
 fellow. I don't understand him. He has 
 always pretended to me that he would not 
 part with that place of his at any price. But 
 from what you say I should judge our fore- 
 closure of his mortgage has worried me more 
 than it has him." 
 
 " How is that? " said Mr. Alexander, very 
 much interested. 
 
 " Oh, we have held a mortgage against him 
 for twenty years and foreclosed it to-day." 
 
 " Does he know it ? How much is the 
 mortgage ? " 
 
 " Three thousand. It don't amount to any- 
 thing on that place, of course, but he has 
 seemed so anxious to keep it, and convinced 
 me at least that he could not pay, that I have 
 tried my best for two years to hold things 
 off. I wrote to him yesterday to come and 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 69 
 
 see me, but I begin to think I could have 
 spared my pains." 
 
 " Do you know," said Mr. Alexander, 
 uneasily, " that I believe he was on his 
 way to see you when I met him, and that 
 he forgot his errand ? " 
 
 "Well, well," laughed Mr. Alden, "that 
 would be just like him. If that is so, how- 
 ever, it can't distress him much." 
 
 " I don't know about that." 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you what I think about 
 Mott," said Mr. Nathan. " He is a crazy fool, 
 and I can't see for the life of me why we put 
 up with him as long as we did. You can't 
 run a loan company on sentiment, I tell you." 
 
 Mr. Nathan was a self-made man who had 
 spent thirty years in an active, unceasing 
 effort to get rich, and had succeeded. He 
 was now nearly fifty, and could look from the 
 window where he sat and contemplate the 
 tall, solid evidence of his wealth and energy 
 in the form of a few of the buildings he owned. 
 He was not thinking of them, however; these 
 were now only half-forgotten achievements, 
 more of a care, in fact, than a pleasure. His 
 mind's eye was fixed eagerly upon other and 
 taller buildings he hoped yet to possess. 
 
70 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 "What good is a man like Mott in the 
 world?" said he. " That land of his remains 
 an eyesore in the middle of the city. I tried 
 to buy it of him five years ago for a tin can 
 factory, and you would have thought I was 
 trying to steal it by the way he treated me. 
 It's a good thing for others when such fellows 
 go under. There is no progress with them 
 in the way." 
 
 Mr. Alexander looked at the speaker 
 through half-closed eyes. 
 
 " Alden," he said, after a little pause, " just 
 hold that proceeding over for a day or two. 
 I'll guarantee that the mortgage will be paid 
 or renewed and the interest all met in good 
 order." 
 
 He went up to his own room, read a few 
 chapters in " Old Mortality," and went to 
 bed. 
 
 The next afternoon he walked out to Mr. 
 Mott's. Primrose, pale and anxious, met him 
 at the door. 
 
 " He is very sick," she said. " He is un- 
 
 conscious." 
 
 Mr. Alexander, alarmed, waited to see the 
 doctor, who was then in the sick chamber. 
 " It is brain fever," said the doctor. " He 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 71 
 
 is old, and it will go hard with him ; but he is 
 well seasoned and strong for his years, and 
 will come through all right." 
 
 "What was it, Primrose?" asked Mr. 
 Alexander, as he took her hand and led her 
 to the bench on the porch. 
 
 " We will lose this place and it will kill 
 him. I don't know why he failed to go to the 
 Loan Company yesterday. It might not have 
 done any good, for they have lost patience ; 
 but, of course, there is no hope now." 
 
 " Primrose, let me talk with you about this 
 frankly. Do you know that this place is 
 worth a fortune? Its value only makes it 
 expensive for your father and you because 
 you can make no use of it ; but if you sold it, 
 you could pay off all you owe and never 
 want for anything again." 
 
 " I don't believe my father would know 
 what you meant by that." 
 
 " Perhaps not, but if the thing were done, 
 and he should find himself with a beautiful 
 little house, with another few acres around 
 it, where he could work and experiment as 
 he does here, he would grow used to it, and 
 you, Primrose, don't you understand that 
 your life would be different ? " 
 
72 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " How would it be changed ? " 
 
 " If you had a little fortune in securities, 
 with a good interest coming to you regularly, 
 you would not need to work as you do now, 
 but could fix up your house handsomely, 
 make fine friends, visit and travel and enter- 
 tain. You could have beautiful dresses and 
 more lovers than you* would know what to 
 do with." 
 
 Primrose laughed in spite of her anxiety, 
 but though she assured him that she knew 
 how plain and unattractive she was, and that 
 no amount of ornament could make her beau- 
 tiful, she looked wistfully down the garden 
 paths as she spoke, as if half hoping for some 
 long-expected one. 
 
 " Perhaps you do not care for lovers ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh, I would not want many,"she answered, 
 a little confused, and yet a little pleased, half- 
 nervous and half -am used. " What I would 
 like is impossible." 
 
 " And what is that, Primrose ? " 
 
 " A lover, young and handsome, romantic 
 and noble, who would come to me just as I 
 am, and worship me and think me the most 
 beautiful woman in the world." 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 73 
 
 " Have you never loved any one, then, nor 
 had a lover ? " 
 
 k * Do you think I would tell you that ? " 
 she answered. 
 
 He smiled and took her hand. 
 
 " Then you are not tempted by an invest- 
 ment, fine dresses, and the world ? " 
 
 " Not the world as it really is," she said. 
 " I love to take journeys and wear very gay 
 costumes, and I am constantly doing so. 
 You have no idea where these gravel walks 
 can take you on a fine afternoon or a bright 
 summer night. And I often discover the 
 most wonderful people in our arbours. It will 
 not distress me, of course, as much as it will 
 my father, but when I go from here it will be 
 like leaving a lovely world that has grown 
 used to me and given me place, that knows 
 me for what I hope and fancy, and going 
 into a world that is strange and indifferent. 
 You think my father would grow used to 
 the change ? He never would. I doubt if 
 he would make it. It is the familiarity, the 
 friendliness of the things about him that 
 keeps youth in his old body. He could not 
 really be old. If he were to begin to grieve 
 and think of his age, and realize that the 
 
74 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 associations of his life were over, he would 
 die at once, as a pod, when it is picked and 
 emptied, dries and is blown away." 
 
 " Primrose," said Mr. Alexander, patting 
 her hand, " I will buy this mortgage and will 
 hold it without interest. But I would rather 
 your father did not know it. I may wish to 
 ask a favour of him some day and I want him 
 to be free." 
 
 And so, when Mr. Mott, after his two 
 weeks' illness, sitting in his rocker by the 
 window, looking again over his garden now 
 green and blooming, remembered the danger 
 that menaced him, he was quickly reassured 
 by Primrose. 
 
 " That was all a foolish mistake," she said, 
 lying complacently ; " they will never trouble 
 us again. It was all explained and settled 
 the very next day, but you could not know 
 it then. They are so secure, you see, that 
 it doesn't matter if we never pay them." 
 
 This seemed like perfectly good logic to 
 Mr. Mott, and he was contented and happy. 
 He looked over his beds and his arbours and 
 orchards, planning how to improve them. 
 
 " I think," he said, " I will take down those 
 poor, tattered houses. They are only ex- 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 75 
 
 posed to the weather as they are, and I can- 
 not repair them." 
 
 " We can take the room they occupy," said 
 Primrose, " for flower and vegetable beds, and 
 use all this space between the cottage and the 
 flats for lawns and shrubbery. I would like 
 a bower in the midst of it, with a little foun- 
 tain near it, and enclosed with syringa bushes 
 and hydrangeas." 
 
 All her life Primrose had dreamed of such 
 a bower, in the midst of a smooth, green lawn, 
 shut away by flowering shrubs and lightly 
 shaded by a few graceful trees, where she 
 could hold occasional receptions for the de- 
 lightful people she was always meeting in her 
 rambles along the extending gravel paths. 
 
 One day, during Mr. Mott's convalescence, 
 Mr. Alexander was sitting with him on the 
 porch. 
 
 " When I am strong again," said Mr. Mott, 
 " I will remove those houses that are falling 
 down. I wish I were well, for I am impa- 
 tient to get at my garden. There are a hun- 
 dred things I have planned to do while sitting 
 here." 
 
 " It is very beautiful as it is," said Mr. 
 Alexander. 
 
76 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " You will see what a paradise I will make 
 of it when I am strong again. All that 
 patch over there I will sod with white clover 
 turf. I will plant a little group of four elms. 
 There will be a fountain in the centre, from 
 which a little stream will run through the 
 grass. I will cut a narrow way for it in the 
 sod, and line it with pebbles. Near the foun- 
 tain I will build a summer-house and cover 
 it with climbing roses. All this will be en- 
 closed with flowering shrubs, and will be 
 our drawing room. Then, when you come 
 for the afternoon, we can sit in the summer- 
 house and listen to the cool sound of the 
 water. Perhaps Primrose will read one of 
 your books for us, or Father L'Amora will 
 tell us one of his stories. In the evening we 
 can stretch ourselves on the grass, when there 
 is no dew, and look up at the stars." 
 
 " How much easier you could do all that," 
 said Mr. Alexander, " if you had money, and 
 could hire a few good men to help you." 
 
 " I have never understood how to get 
 money," said Mr. Mott, with a quaint smile. 
 " But I have never missed it much." 
 
 " My friend," said Mr. Alexander, " I would 
 like to see those things done that you describe, 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 77 
 
 and all the affairs of this pleasant haunt of 
 mine running as merrily as the little brook 
 you will make. I am to enjoy these delights 
 with you, and will help to realize them 
 speedily. If you will let me manage your 
 affairs, you will have, without bothering about 
 it, what money you need." 
 
 "How is that?" 
 
 " I will invest five thousand dollars for 
 you." 
 
 " But I haven't five thousand dollars," said 
 Mr. Mott, with the greatest surprise. 
 
 " I will lend it to you." 
 
 Mr. Mott looked at his friend a moment, 
 wondering. He then asked in all serious- 
 ness, " But would that be quite business- 
 like ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied Mr. Alexander, gravely ; 
 " you can give me a second mortgage on 
 this property, which will be good security. 
 Anybody will tell you that." 
 
 Entirely reassured by his manner, Mr. 
 Mott complacently agreed. The next after- 
 noon, Mr. Alexander came with a lawyer. 
 The mortgage was drawn, read over to Mr. 
 Mott, who listened with the elaborate atten- 
 tion of total incomprehension, interrupting 
 
78 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 now and then to inform Mr. Alexander and 
 the lawyer of some new detail of the little 
 eden he was preparing, which had come to 
 him overnight. 
 
 They told him where to sign, and Prim- 
 rose brought his spectacles, which he care- 
 fully polished and adjusted with the rare 
 dignity that came to him on great occasions. 
 He fixed his attention upon the paper long 
 enough to write his name. 
 
 He now felt himself intimately connected 
 with those vast and mysterious influences 
 which control the world, and the simple, un- 
 questioning confidence he felt in his friend 
 made him able, for the first time, to think 
 of them without terror. Even the lawyer 
 seemed to be a pleasant, companionable sort 
 of man, and when Primrose brought to them 
 each a cup of her delicious tea, Mr. Mott 
 leaned comfortably back in his chair, revel- 
 ling in the novel delights which his venture 
 in business had brought him. 
 
 A new existence began for Mr. Mott and 
 Primrose. It was at first difficult for them 
 to make use of their money. Mr. Alexander 
 himself was constantly obliged to suggest to 
 them ways in which it could be spent. Mr. 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 79 
 
 Mott now began to think of the great city 
 about him with a friendliness, which more 
 and more grew into a positive affection. It 
 took for him the character of its representa- 
 tive, Mr. Alexander. He could never get 
 over his surprise in the fact that the money 
 he used, which seemed very large to him, did 
 not exhaust the supply. The greenhouses 
 were removed, and workmen had already 
 begun to lay the sod before Mr. Mott had 
 himself been able to take any active part in 
 the labour. He had directed the work from 
 his chair on the porch, where, every even- 
 ing, Mr. Alexander joined him to watch the 
 proceedings. 
 
 One day Mr. Alexander took the mortgage 
 from his pocket and laid it on Mr. Mott's 
 knee. 
 
 " You may destroy that now," said he. " It 
 has been paid from your profits." 
 
 " It is wonderful," said Mr. Mott. " I 
 would like to know how you did it." 
 
 " It is easy enough to make money," re- 
 plied his friend. " The problem lies in know- 
 ing what to do with it, so that it will become 
 a pleasure instead of a burden. It tempts 
 men to its pursuit with great promises, 
 
8o A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 which it seems to forget as soon as it is 
 gained." 
 
 * # # # * * 
 
 During these weeks Mr. Alexander had 
 often thought of his day on Pilliod's Island, 
 and the child. He had intended to see her 
 again before this, to find some way, if possi- 
 ble, of helping her mother. Mr. Mott and 
 his affairs had occupied his leisure, however, 
 and this other interest had been allowed to 
 drift. He had almost forgotten the matter, 
 when he received this answer to his letter to 
 Mother Pelagia: 
 
 " MY FRIEND : I have been so long in writing to you, 
 because at first I was in great trouble over your letter. 
 To answer you in sympathy with your own feelings would 
 be to hearken to voices in my heart long since silenced 
 by prayer and penance. 
 
 " The ' Betty ' you once knew should be forgotten by 
 us both, and yet I am afraid she will not be altogether 
 still. Ever since our convent postman rode in, bringing 
 your letter to me, this same old Betty has been following 
 me everywhere, whispering so loudly I feared she would 
 be overheard. She has never left me, going even to mass, 
 refusing to kneel, and even tempting me to snap a little 
 holy water on one of the sisters who met me at the font 
 in the chapel. I tell you this that you may see how wise 
 it was to suppress so incorrigible a creature as this Betty. 
 
 " Dear friend, believe me when I say that, lonely as 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 8 1 
 
 you are, it is far better for both you and me that we were 
 so early separated. In such a nature as yours only the 
 virtues grow, and so I know that I have become for you 
 a far nobler woman than I could have been had I re- 
 mained with you in the world. Betty in my hands would 
 ever have been a vain and malicious vixen, delighting in 
 the torture of those who loved her. Abandoned by me, 
 and left wholly to the protection and guidance of your 
 tenderness and charity, she has become all that is gracious 
 and womanly. 
 
 " You doubt if religion has brought me as great a joy 
 as would love, or if the church is as much to me as a 
 home would have been. I doubt if either love or religion 
 can bring joy to such a nature as mine. But I do know 
 that the church has brought me to an understanding of 
 myself and made me of some use in the world. 
 
 " Here in our little convent world there is nothing to 
 encourage the kind of vanity that was mine. It required 
 years of humble service and the most unbending discipline 
 to conquer the worthless pride and petty desires that once 
 controlled me. But during all those years, even while I 
 was still wilful and restless at heart, the solemn chapel 
 bells, and the bells that tinkle their messages and their 
 appeals from hour to hour, were speaking to me of holy 
 and peaceful things. The sisters coming and going on 
 missions of love and mercy were the only mediums be- 
 tween me and the world of men. The paintings and 
 books about me spoke only of those who were seeking 
 the ideal. Here in the midst of these beautiful woods 
 and fair lawns, in this temple dedicated to Our Lady of 
 Peace, there seemed to be no evil except what my own 
 stubborn heart contained. I became ashamed and peni- 
 
82 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 tent. Now that the years have passed and my life is 
 nearly over, I find myself in authority the mother of a 
 divine household. I know how solemn, how tender, and 
 potent are the influences at work here, for they have 
 given me a soul. When I think, then, that I am now 
 their mouth-piece, the medium through which they must 
 reach others, I am filled with a wonder that is well-nigh 
 fear. To be free from earthly passions, to empty my life 
 of all personal desires, to listen only to these holy voices, 
 and repeat their counsels and direct the life of this house- 
 hold in harmony with them, this is my duty. Do you 
 think if this does not bring me joy, that love would ? 
 
 " I hope you will see the child you speak of again. 
 Although you said very little of her, I seemed to see her 
 as clearly as if I had been with you. Why don't you give 
 your fancy a reality ? If you will take her for your own 
 and will trust her to me, I will make a place for her here 
 in our school. The education she will receive cannot be 
 excelled, and the very beauty of our gardens and groves, 
 the innocence and simplicity of the life here, the gentle 
 natures of those who will instruct her, can influence her 
 only toward the ideals you wish her to possess. I believe 
 that such an interest as this charge would bring you, is all 
 that your noble heart needs to fill your life with happi- 
 ness. Do this and let me help you. I will watch over 
 her for her sake, for yours, and for my own." 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 LITTLE Hilda, having so much of the care 
 of the household put upon her while so 
 young, had learned many things that chil- 
 dren seldom know. Before she was seven 
 years old she could tell the time by the 
 round wooden clock on the wall. She was 
 a very busy and contented little housewife. 
 There were many days when her mother did 
 not leave her bed. Hilda was up with the 
 sun to help her father with the breakfast. 
 She knew how to make corn bread, could 
 boil or fry or poach eggs, and was now learn- 
 ing how to make an omelet. Corn meal 
 they always had, for Jean Pilliod saw to this. 
 There were times in the winter when corn 
 meal and potatoes were their only food. But 
 in summer, a little vegetable garden supplied 
 them with carrots, parsnips, turnips, onions, 
 and beets. Jean Pilliod allowed them, also, 
 all the eggs that were laid in the haystack 
 and grassy hollows near their hut. Hilda 
 
 83 
 
84 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 learned to care for the garden, to cook the 
 meals, to sweep with a little broom, to wash 
 up the dishes and put things to rights. All 
 this kept her busy. Light-hearted and 
 happy as she was, her childish fancy con- 
 verted these tasks into a form of play. Every 
 vegetable of the garden had its name to her. 
 She would chatter to the dishes as she washed 
 them and imagine that the meal she was 
 preparing was the wedding feast of her 
 favourite daughter Alice, a poor little apple- 
 faced creature with one arm pulled off and 
 a wide crack in one of her glossy china 
 cheeks. This wonderful wedding had been 
 taking place for so long and so many amaz- 
 ing features had been added each time, that 
 the occasion had become a magnificent affair. 
 Amid what fantastic scenes do children 
 move ! It would be interesting to know 
 at what age these images of feasts and fes- 
 tivals begin to form. We pass so uncon- 
 sciously through this glorious period into 
 the humdrum world of real men that no 
 record has ever been kept, and the prat- 
 tling of babes astonishes us. A word or a 
 look escapes them and we dimly realize that 
 they are dwelling in another world than ours. 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 85 
 
 This feeling of surprise is not softened by 
 memory with most of us, for we have forgot- 
 ten the fairyland of childhood. 
 
 Hilda's mother had once been able to 
 repeat to her the songs and stories of her 
 own girlhood. She had taken her part in 
 all the merry, active life of the child. Now 
 that she could hardly leave her chair during 
 her best days, and was more and more fre- 
 quently confined to her bed, the heartsick- 
 ness she felt was not for her own pains and 
 weakness, but for the dread of her little 
 daughter's loneliness. Hilda, however, with 
 the ease of a child was able to turn even this 
 misfortune into a means of delight. The 
 mother did her part in the mere desire that 
 her suffering should not become a shadow on 
 her child's life. True love is the wisest of 
 all teachers, for it opens the ears of the soul 
 to the voices of nature. There is nothing 
 more natural than joyous industry. A loving 
 mother will rear good housewives as a faith- 
 ful duck a brood that can swim. No one 
 who has not experienced and remembered it 
 can know with what pride Hilda did the work 
 of the house. She felt an almost delicious 
 ecstasy in the knowledge that her mother 
 
86 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 was helpless and dependent on her. One 
 of the village doctors, paid by the town to 
 look after the poor, came now and then and 
 left medicine. One day when he was giving 
 his instructions to the invalid, Hilda said a 
 little shyly, but with determination in her 
 voice, " Why don't you tell me, doctor, what 
 to do ? I am taking care of mamma, now." 
 
 The doctor and the mother smiled, but 
 after this she was told, and the doctor soon 
 learned that he could well trust her. Once 
 he taught her how to feel the pulse and let 
 her hold his big silver watch in her hand 
 while she counted. She was too much ex- 
 cited to notice either the time or the pulse, 
 but she counted over and over, as fast as she 
 could, from one to twelve, for this was all 
 she knew. 
 
 "A little girl like you," said the doctor, 
 " ought to count a hundred at least." 
 
 She became silent at once and moved a 
 little way from him. There she stood, glad 
 to be forgotten in her shame, until he left. 
 
 " Mamma," she whispered, coming close 
 to the bed, " please teach me to a hundred." 
 
 In a few days she had learned this lesson, 
 for she studied it in all she did. She counted 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 87 
 
 the dishes as she washed them, the strokes 
 of her broom as she swept, and her mother, 
 listening from her bed, would correct her. 
 When the work inside was done, she would 
 go to the garden if her mother was able to 
 sit in the doorway, or, if not, she would sit 
 by her side and play with dolls or sing her 
 to sleep or pretend to be the doctor and 
 count her pulse. This she learned to do 
 accurately. 
 
 Her father came and went, almost unno- 
 ticed. He seldom spoke when he was there, 
 but sat in his chair, smoking and looking 
 stupidly at his boots. He was forgotten 
 when he was away. Sometimes he fright- 
 ened her a little when he came home in the 
 night, laughing and talking to himself. 
 
 Alone with her mother, she was, from sun- 
 rise until three o'clock, a happy, busy little 
 housebody, with seemingly no desire unsatis- 
 fied. In the afternoon, when the round-faced 
 clock struck three, she would listen a mo- 
 ment, counting the strokes, her head held as 
 a robin's when it notes a sound. She would 
 drop her little hoe in the garden, or her dolls 
 upon the floor, and, running to her mother, 
 cry eagerly, " I must go now, mamma. It is 
 
88 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 three o'clock. Oh, I must hurry and meet 
 Pierre." 
 
 There had never been any opposition to 
 this. Hilda's joy was her mother's. The 
 invalid never thought herself deserted. She 
 would close her eyes and listen, in fancy, to 
 her child's voice, and follow her, running 
 over the fields. Sometimes the whim of the 
 children brought them near the hut, and she 
 caught the gust of their passing. Sometimes 
 they tunnelled in the haystack not far away, 
 or played on the shore where she could watch 
 them, from her bed, through the window. 
 Perhaps Hilda would run to her with a flower 
 or a pretty stone she had found, or bring for 
 her compassion a grasshopper with a broken 
 leg, a bird that had fallen from its nest. She 
 never thought of asking the children to stay 
 near her. When she heard their voices 
 approaching or saw them come into her view, 
 her eyes grew moist with happiness. She 
 felt that God wished in this way to be good 
 to her. 
 
 Hilda, when she left the hut at three, 
 would run down the long, grassy road that 
 divided the fields, to the other end of the 
 island near Maumee. Here she would sit on 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 89 
 
 a stone under a great willow tree and watch 
 the crest of the bluff at the point where the 
 path downward began. The stream was 
 quite narrow here, and very still, except in 
 the early spring, so Pierre could safely push 
 himself across on his way to and from school, 
 in a little flatboat built for his use. Hilda 
 would sit quietly and watch until Pierre ap- 
 peared, his books under his arm. If he stood, 
 as he sometimes did, for a long time on the 
 line, looking over the island and far away, 
 not seeing her at all, or, if he only smiled at 
 her and came quietly down the path to his 
 boat, she remained seated on her stone, 
 watching him in silence. If he looked 
 toward her at once, as he more often did, 
 and waved his hand or shouted, or came 
 hurrying down the hill, she would jump to 
 her feet and laugh and call to him. She was 
 instantly alive to a thousand things they 
 would soon be doing, and could not stand 
 still while he pushed across. It was not that 
 she was happier when Pierre was gay. She 
 loved the quiet afternoons when he wished 
 only to lie in the grass and watch the clouds 
 form and float and dissolve. She loved to 
 romp over the fields, to hunt for pretty 
 
90 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 stones and explore the jungles, to build 
 cities and palaces, or dig mysterious caves 
 in the haystack, as well. It was all one to 
 her, so long as she was with Pierre. Of 
 course there was no conscious design on her 
 part. It was as natural for her to reflect 
 his mood as it is for the moon flower to 
 increase in yellow with the fulness of the 
 moon. 
 
 Alone, Hilda was contented with the 
 things about her. She could tie an apron to 
 her bed-post and put a bonnet on its knob 
 and believe here was a pleasant companion 
 for a day. She talked to the bushes, made 
 princesses and gay maids-in-waiting out of 
 rags. Whenever she looked at the frying- 
 pan, it had a good word for her. If a bird 
 alighted near her, she was glad to be agreea- 
 ble while it chose to stay, but she felt no 
 regret when it flew. 
 
 With Pierre she caught something of his 
 spirit. Distance was the magnet of his soul. 
 Sometimes, he, too, would delight in the 
 things at hand, but it was only because he 
 was able for the moment to imagine himself 
 in some far-off place. All the delight of a 
 fabulous world lay for him just beyond the 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 91 
 
 line of his vision. He was very stupid in 
 school, and seemed to his teacher to learn 
 nothing. There were, however, certain 
 names in his geography and certain pic- 
 tures that were far more real to him than 
 Maumee or Perrysburg. Madagascar, Con- 
 stantinople, Andalusia these were the world. 
 He had no thought of distance. Everything 
 he longed for was just beyond the horizon. 
 The outlines of the great city down the river 
 were the turrets and round temple domes of 
 Constantinople. Madagascar was just back 
 of the faint line of woods across the river to 
 the east. He could not have described any 
 of these places. They were only wonderful, 
 vague, glittering, musical, full of colour and 
 delight. They were like the sounds of their 
 names. It was to these places the clouds 
 were bound, and here the birds went when 
 they flew away. He would sometimes lie 
 quietly, so far as his body was concerned, 
 watching this constant flight of birds, feeling 
 the wind as it hurried past him, dreaming 
 of the things they saw and heard, and Hilda, 
 sitting as quietly beside him, felt all the time, 
 without knowing it, that he longed for some- 
 thing. Then he would jump from the ground 
 
92 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 and run swiftly across the fields in pursuit of 
 a cloud or a bird, and she, hurrying after him, 
 hoped with all the passion of her heart that 
 they would get what he was after. But they 
 never did. Never. Pierre must always stop 
 at the edge of the island while the clouds moved 
 steadily on and the birds vanished. There 
 was always the desire in Pierre's soul to make 
 friends with these pilgrims from his promised 
 lands. He could never see a bird on a limb 
 near him without wishing to hold it, to stroke 
 its soft throat. Sometimes he would follow 
 a loiterer from bush to bush, his hand held 
 out, trying to calm its fears, reasoning, plead- 
 ing, urging countless assurances of tender- 
 ness and good faith. Hilda, following close 
 behind, would almost weep in her wish for 
 his success. Her lips would tremble as she 
 murmured plaintively : 
 
 " Oh, good, dear birdie, won't you come ? 
 He wants you so. He wants you so." 
 
 Sometimes, when Pierre was in his boat, 
 coming home, he would look around the end 
 of the island, across the wide river on the 
 other side, toward the distant woods, and 
 wonder if he would ever dare to go there. 
 He had been to the city once, but that was 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 93 
 
 long ago and he only knew he had been. 
 He had a vague recollection of tall build- 
 ings and many sounds of thousands upon 
 thousands of marvellous things to be seen if 
 he could be there once alone and not have 
 to hurry past them and keep still. He knew 
 that if he only dared, he could float there in 
 his boat. It rather frightened him to think 
 of it, and yet he wished that sometime he 
 might have the courage to run away. 
 
 When he spoke of such projects to Hilda, 
 she was filled with awe at his audacity and 
 terror at the idea of going. Of course, if he 
 went, she would be obliged to. She did not 
 dread the city so much as the forest, for it 
 was in that direction the ogre lived. His 
 great brick house could be seen near the 
 edge of the woods. 
 
 After her day with Mr. Alexander, this fear 
 of the ogre grew less until it vanished. In 
 some way, her memory of him and her 
 thoughts of the ogre became confused. At 
 last she came to think of them as one, and 
 she often wished that he would visit her 
 again. It was still a terrible thought to her, 
 this venturing away into unknown places, but 
 she sometimes wished to explore the myste- 
 
94 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 ries of his castle. She fancied herself and 
 Pierre pounding on the big door with a stick, 
 and trembled. Then when the ogre opened 
 it and smiled, as he had when he frightened 
 her before, she ran straight to him and was 
 no longer afraid. He took them into a room 
 rilled with birds, and one with a great glass 
 tank full of glittering fish. There was a long 
 hall with high windows, a place of sunlight 
 and mirrors and of great content. Here were 
 countless dolls that laughed and talked, their 
 voices like little bells. They walked up and 
 down with funny, mincing steps, and bowed 
 and scraped to each other very courteously. 
 This lively scene would always terminate in 
 a great dance, after which a feast was served 
 in a dining room built entirely of glass, and 
 it was very dazzling with all the lights ablaze. 
 When she could eat no more, she helped the 
 army of doll servants clear up the tables and 
 wash the dishes, because the ogre had once 
 said that he wished he had some one to do 
 things for him. Then, being very tired, she 
 climbed on the ogre's knee and went to sleep. 
 This visit came to be very real to her, for 
 she generally thought it all out at least once, 
 whenever she was with Pierre and he was 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 95 
 
 quiet. So now when he spoke of the jour- 
 ney she was not so much afraid. 
 
 One day when Pierre appeared on the hill 
 on his way from school, he looked for some 
 time in the direction of the woods. He came 
 slowly down the path and pushed across to 
 the island. He did not get out, but stood 
 with the pole in his hands. There was an 
 unusual colour in his cheeks and a new light 
 in his eyes. 
 
 " Hilda," he said, looking toward the little 
 girl still waiting patiently on her stone, " I 
 am going." 
 
 She had felt what was coming when he 
 began to speak. A shudder of fear passed 
 over her. She gave a little gasp and looked 
 helplessly about her. He put the pole in the 
 water and pushed a little way from shore. 
 She jumped excitedly from her stone and 
 called, - 
 
 " Wait, wait, Pierre ! " 
 
 She put her hand to her mouth and tried 
 not to cry. She was always ashamed to do 
 that. Pierre instantly pushed back, and she 
 almost tumbled into the boat in her eager- 
 ness. 
 
 It was so great and solemn an occasion 
 
96 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 that not a word was said. Hilda, crouched 
 in one end of the boat, held to the sides as 
 if for her life. Her eyes were riveted at 
 first on Pierre, who stood at the other end, 
 pushing steadily away from shore. They 
 came out from between the mainland and 
 the island, and soon the expanse of broad 
 river lay before them. The shore on the 
 other side seemed miles away. Hilda looked 
 toward it once and knew that they were 
 lost. She cast another terrified glance at 
 the surging ripples around her and shut her 
 eyes. After a long, long time of dread, she 
 felt the boat grate on shore and opened her 
 eyes with a start. 
 
 "Here's an island," said Pierre. "Let's 
 explore it first." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " cried Hilda, shouting her joy 
 at their escape. " What a be-u-tiful place ! " 
 
 It was, in fact, a small pebbly knoll that 
 rose out of the water. A handful of grass 
 grew in the centre. To Pierre, however, it 
 was an unknown country in the midst of the 
 Mediterranean. The clump of grass was a 
 jungle filled with friendly wild beasts, and 
 strange hordes of kind and terrible savages 
 lurked in the mountains. Here was a ver- 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 97 
 
 dant island, unknown to white men, which 
 he would now claim for his own. To Hilda 
 it was not only all this, because Pierre said 
 so, it was salvation. Had she been twenty 
 years older, she would have wept and prayed 
 in her thanksgiving. As it was, she whooped 
 like a little Indian and hoped that Pierre 
 would be satisfied with this for his journey. 
 For the time, at least, he was content. There 
 were other islands near, and the afternoon 
 passed before they were all explored. Hilda 
 grew used to the boat and the water and the 
 distance from shore and began to enjoy her 
 adventure. 
 
 " I wish we could stay here all night," said 
 Pierre. 
 
 " Would you dare ? " asked the girl, glad 
 in her heart that they could not and yet 
 vaguely influenced by the other's desire. 
 
 " Of course," said Pierre. " I am king here, 
 I guess, and I would stay, too, if they'd let 
 
 me." 
 
 By " they " he referred to his father and 
 mother, two very disagreeable people who 
 were forever in his way. 
 
 As Pierre was still struggling with the 
 unhappy conviction that he must go home, 
 
98 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 a flock of blackbirds came out of the west 
 toward him. He watched them as they 
 approached and his heart bounded with a 
 wild hope. 
 
 " Lie down, Hilda," he cried, throwing 
 himself flat upon the pebbles ; " perhaps they 
 are coming here." 
 
 Instantly the girl was by his side, looking 
 upward as eagerly as he. We must call this 
 host of winged beings blackbirds because 
 there is no name for what they really were. 
 If you would know how these children felt 
 as they sprawled upon the earth, gazing with 
 beating hearts and breathless, you must see 
 what they saw, not a flock of those greedy 
 pests of the grain fields, but a company of 
 the freebooters of the air, wandering knights- 
 errant from enchanted lands, mysterious, 
 beautiful, wise with the wisdom children 
 seek. To such boys as Pierre, birds appeal 
 more than all other living beings, because 
 for them they represent an active and bound- 
 less liberty. The captive wild fowl is not 
 more desolate as he follows the flight of his 
 kind, than was the soul of Pierre as he 
 watched the birds speeding in their freedom. 
 There was no limit to their powers, no hand 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 99 
 
 nor force to detain them. They sometimes 
 cocked knowing eyes on him, but never 
 spoke. He seemed to feel that if he could 
 once gather some of these all-wise beings 
 about him and establish an understanding 
 that he could win their secrets and become 
 free as they. 
 
 Pierre's excitement vanished as the birds 
 passed overhead without noticing him. He 
 stood up and watched them sadly. He heard 
 the whir of their wings and the sound of 
 their pleasant converse. How swiftly they 
 passed ! A few moments and they were like 
 a tiny black cloud that dissolved just over 
 the woods in the distance. 
 
 " Come on, Hilda, let's go," he said gloom- 
 ily, getting into his boat. He looked now 
 upon his new possessions and saw them as 
 they were just a few bare knolls. 
 
 As the children moved quietly homeward, 
 the Angelus echoed between the neighbour- 
 ing villages, and Pierre rested on his pole to 
 listen. He was not conscious of the sound 
 nor of his act. When it was over, he could 
 not have told you that the bells had spoken. 
 But Hilda, sitting now calmly in her end of 
 the boat, saw the gloom lift from his face, 
 
100 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 and she was glad again. Of course, she did 
 not know it was in any way due to the bells, 
 for she was as heedless of their sound as he. 
 She laughed when a fish leaped from the 
 water near her, and was not frightened when, 
 leaning over to look, the boat tipped with her. 
 
 " Pierre," she said, " do you think if we 
 drowned, we would be fishes ? " 
 
 When Pierre pulled the boat on shore he 
 had decided upon two things. He would go 
 swimming that night, and very soon, perhaps 
 the next day, he would start off on his long 
 journey. These two fine things to do put 
 him in gay spirits, and he raced hand-in- 
 hand with Hilda down the island road. 
 
 That evening, as Hilda was sitting on the 
 door-sill, singing softly to herself a little 
 greeting of her own to the stars as they 
 appeared, Pierre came to her and said, 
 
 " I am going swimming." 
 
 "Oh," she exclaimed, at once forgetting 
 her song and the stars, " I want to go, too." 
 
 It was the first swim of the year, and no 
 calamity could be so great as the missing of 
 it. She ran at once to her mother for con- 
 sent. The poor invalid was so weak that 
 she scarcely heard. But, suffering as she 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY IOI 
 
 was, she could still understand the eagerness 
 of her child's desire and was more troubled 
 by it than her own distress. 
 
 " Must you go to-night ? " she asked as 
 brightly as she could. " Dear little daughter, 
 don't go to-night. Perhaps in a few days I 
 can go and sit near you." 
 
 Hilda returned slowly to the door and said 
 ruefully, " I can't go." 
 
 " I'll wait for you, then," said Pierre. 
 
 Nothing in all the world could have brought 
 to Hilda so much joy as this. Pierre, in all 
 the time they had been together, had never 
 been unkind or thoughtless toward her. But 
 there was something in his way of announc- 
 ing his designs, in his quiet air of self- 
 sufficiency and spirit of abstraction, that 
 made Hilda a little in awe of him. She could 
 never be sure that she was included in his 
 plans, and every revelation of the fact that 
 she was, brought her a new delight. The 
 sacrifice that he now made was so great and 
 he made it so willingly, that her little listen- 
 ing heart caught the first faint note of the 
 song that must one day fill it. She was so 
 happy that her lips trembled a rare expres- 
 sion of joy with her. 
 
102 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 She sat down by Pierre on the doorstep 
 and tried to think of something that would 
 please him. She began to feel, however, 
 very soon, that he was busy with his own 
 thoughts, and she sat contented and silent 
 beside him. 
 
 She followed his gaze down the river and 
 watched, with something of his own feeling, 
 the play of lights above the city. Above 
 and around them was the dark night. Down 
 there the sky was aglow. Night after night 
 Pierre had seen this shining cloud of prom- 
 ise. He listened to the wind in the trees 
 and bushes without thinking of it as the 
 wind. It was a voice whispering of the 
 wonders of that region beneath the glowing 
 sky. He saw the reflection of the stars upon 
 the ripples, and it was for him a fleet of fairy 
 boats that had strayed here for a while from 
 that enchanted land. Why was he not there ? 
 To-morrow he would go. How he conveyed 
 all this to Hilda it is impossible to tell. 
 One must become a child again to get it as 
 Hilda did. But suddenly all these plans and 
 speculations were broken. From far away 
 came a voice, which even the distance and 
 the mild night wind that bore it could not 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 103 
 
 soften, calling to Pierre. The boy frowned 
 and moved uneasily. Then he rose and 
 turned to go. He had stayed out too late, 
 and there would be trouble. He had hardly 
 left the hut when he met his grandfather, 
 Jean Pilliod. 
 
 " Come with me," said the old man, kindly. 
 He gave a long " haloo " in answer to his 
 daughter's call and led the way back to the 
 hut. 
 
 He stopped by the door a moment to 
 speak with Hilda, and then going inside, he 
 lit the lamp and drew his chair by the bed- 
 side. The invalid greeted him with a pitiful 
 smile, and without a word broke into feeble 
 weeping. Jean Pilliod took her hand and 
 caressed it with his hard, bent fingers. 
 
 " There there," he said, " why do you 
 cry ? Are you suffering to-night ? " 
 
 " I am dying," she whispered. It was the 
 sound of his gentle voice as he spoke to 
 Hilda that had made her weep. As soon 
 as she could control her voice, she said : 
 
 " I don't know when it will come, but it 
 will be soon now. When I am dead, send 
 Hilda to the asylum. I went there often to 
 see, while I was still strong enough to walk. 
 
104 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 They are good to the children. But I want 
 you to see that she finds a good home." 
 
 " I will promise you that," he replied 
 simply. He knew that she would not live 
 long, and it did not occur to him to speak as 
 though she would. 
 
 " I wish I could take her myself," he added, 
 " but I am growing old, and my good woman 
 is dead. My son's wife would not want to be 
 bothered. Even Pierre seems to be a trouble 
 to her." 
 
 " You will put her in the asylum at once ? " 
 asked the mother, anxiously. 
 
 He knew what she meant. She would not 
 even think unkindly of her husband, but she 
 did not want her child left to his neglect. 
 
 " I will. You need not worry about that." 
 
 He told her he would send the doctor in 
 the morning. He lifted Hilda from the door- 
 step and held her a moment in his arms. 
 Then he kissed her good-night, and taking 
 Pierre by the hand, trudged home. 
 
 " I took Pierre with me to the hut," he 
 explained and so diverted the boy's trouble 
 to himself. He took his scolding placidly, 
 for in his own house he was much deafer 
 than elsewhere. An hour later, Pierre 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 105 
 
 climbed out of his window and raced over 
 the fields with the wind. 
 
 When he was weary, he curled up in the 
 cave in the haystack and slept, surrounded 
 by his buccaneers. Just before sunrise he 
 awoke and returned to his bed and the 
 strange stale existence of his home and 
 school. 
 
 When Jean Pilliod put Hilda down, she 
 rubbed her mouth with her sleeve and made 
 a wry face. She ran laughing to her mother, 
 saying, " I don't like Grandpa Pilliod's 
 kisses, 'cause his beard tickles." Then, see- 
 ing that her mother was weeping, she stood 
 still and was frightened. 
 
 "Come here, Hilda," said her mother, 
 smiling ; " be my little nurse for a while. 
 Take my handkerchief first and wipe these 
 mean old tears away." 
 
 " Oh, yes," cried Hilda, all happiness at 
 once, " we won't have them, will we ? " 
 
 She climbed on the bed and settled herself 
 by her mother's head, gently stroking it, croon- 
 ing the song she had just made to the stars. 
 It was not long before she fell asleep to her 
 own lullaby. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 HILDA was awakened in the night by a 
 peculiar noise. The oil in the lamp had 
 burned out and the place was in darkness. 
 A path of moonlight stretched across the 
 floor from the open door, and her father, 
 grown sleepy and stupid from the beer he 
 had consumed, had followed this pathway 
 until it brought him against the wall. Here 
 he stood for some time, rubbing over it with 
 his outstretched hands, knocking against it 
 with his knees and toes. 
 
 " Come, now," he murmured in a coaxing 
 voice. " Lemmy in, Hilda," he whimpered ; 
 " open the door." 
 
 While Hilda was staring at him half 
 asleep, her mother drew her gently down 
 beside her. 
 
 " He's just talking to himself," she said. 
 "Don't mind about it, little one." 
 
 " What makes him do that, mamma ? " 
 
 " There, never mind. Go to sleep again, 
 
 106 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 107 
 
 can't you? He's stretched himself on the 
 floor. He'll be quiet now. What was the 
 song you were singing to me ? " 
 
 " I am so sleepy," said the child, nestling 
 closer. She had never before been permitted 
 to sleep with her mother and was afraid that 
 she would have to undress and climb into 
 her crib. It was so odd, however, that she 
 could not help speaking of it. 
 
 " I am all dressed, ain't I ? But you don't 
 care, do you, dear? " 
 
 " Not to-night. Stay close to me to-night. 
 Perhaps I shall leave you soon." 
 
 Hilda felt that her mother was distressed, 
 but she gathered nothing from her words. 
 
 " Are you afraid ? " she whispered. 
 
 " I am going away oh, don't you under- 
 stand, Hilda? I am going to die." 
 
 These words meant nothing to the child, 
 for she knew nothing of death, and could not 
 conceive of her mother leaving her. But 
 the troubled and fear-stricken heart of her 
 mother found some way to speak to her. 
 She was frightened and began to cry. The 
 poor woman was brought quickly to her- 
 self. 
 
 "There, there, my little one," she said. 
 
108 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " Did I frighten you ? You must not cry. 
 Mamma is going to a beautiful place as 
 bright and beautiful as the city you and 
 Pierre have built." 
 
 " Are you going down the river where the 
 light is ? " 
 
 " Would you like to think that I am there? " 
 
 " Why, mamma, do you know that Pierre 
 and me are going there, too ? You'll wait 
 for us, won't you ? " 
 
 "If I can, little daughter. But if I am 
 gone some day, you must not cry, but think 
 of the beautiful place where the light is, and 
 that I am there waiting for you." 
 
 "And Pierre, mamma, for me and Pierre." 
 
 " Now sing me your little song again." 
 
 Hilda tried hard to remember it, but the 
 next thing she knew the sparrows were chirp- 
 ing and chattering by the window, and the 
 sun was shining on the bed. She sat up and 
 rubbed her eyes. 
 
 " Why, it's morning," she said. 
 
 Her mother was awake and smiling. The 
 cool breath of morning, moist and sweet from 
 the dewy earth, came through the door. 
 
 "He is gone," said the. mother. "I told 
 him not to waken you." 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 109 
 
 " I feel awful mussy," said Hilda, as she 
 jumped from the bed. But she knew what 
 to do. In a moment she had pulled her tub 
 from under her washstand. She brought 
 water from the river until it was half full. 
 A moment more and she was splashing in 
 her bath as merrily as a robin in a pool. 
 When she jumped out, her sweet little body 
 was all aglow, and her eyes were sparkling 
 with pure physical delight. No one had 
 taught this mother and child how to live. 
 Such as these are the real glory of the civili- 
 zation from which they spring, as the flowers 
 of the lonely wilderness, rather than the gar- 
 dens of princes, reveal the beauty of the 
 earth. 
 
 It was now the first week in May, and this 
 was a perfect morning of the season. The 
 rains of spring had fallen, the winds no longer 
 hurried here and there in restless gusts. The 
 sun shone with dazzling brightness, but the 
 air was cool and moist. A warm, sweet odour 
 rose from the earth. The grass was now a 
 deep rich green, and every bush and tree was 
 laden with young leaves. Such birds as were 
 successfully mated were busy at nest building; 
 but now and then a tardy lover proclaimed 
 
1 10 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 his virtues from a swaying bough, or some 
 unfortunate one uttered his low complaint. 
 And there were young husbands, too, who 
 stopped for a moment in their labour to sing, 
 just for the joy of living. 
 
 Hilda, rosy from her bath, dressed all in 
 fresh clothes, was as true a creature of the 
 season and the day as any bird or blossom 
 or leafy twig of the fields. She brought a 
 basin of water and helped her mother bathe. 
 She cooked their breakfast and put the room 
 to rights, singing as she worked. As she 
 was sweeping the dust out the door, a little 
 yellow butterfly flew past her into the room. 
 
 " Good morning, Mrs. Butterfly," she said, 
 and then reminded of a game she loved she 
 quickly put her broom into its corner and 
 ran toward the bed, calling : " Oh, mamma, 
 let's play * Lady come to see.' Here is a 
 caller already, and I'll be Mrs. " 
 
 She stopped suddenly, for her mother 
 seemed asleep. She lay quietly with her 
 eyes closed. A single tremor passed through 
 the child's body, for there was an expression 
 on the white still face she had never seen. 
 It was only a moment, however, for her 
 mother had often fallen asleep as they played, 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY in 
 
 and now her face seemed very beautiful. The 
 butterfly was beating against the window near 
 the bed, and Hilda tiptoed to it. 
 
 " We must go outside and play," she whis- 
 pered. She closed her hands carefully over 
 her visitor and carried it to the door, laugh- 
 ing because its legs and wings tickled her 
 palms. Tossing it into the air, she ran after 
 it as light of heart and aimless as was ever a 
 thistle-blow borne from its stem, to its for- 
 tune, on a random wind. 
 
 For an hour she strayed in the fields 
 among the hosts of her gay little kindred. 
 Returning, she was met by the doctor and 
 Jean Pilliod. 
 
 The old farmer's voice trembled a little as 
 he said, " Come, Hilda, your mother wants 
 you to go with me." 
 
 The child did not even look back upon the 
 home she was leaving. True to her nature, 
 she caught something of the feeling of the 
 two men and walked silently beside them, 
 wondering. 
 
 They found Jane Pilliod, the wife of Jean's 
 son Alphonse, in the kitchen. Her face was 
 red, and her rolled-up sleeves revealed two 
 sinewy arms. She challenged the entrance 
 
112 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 of the old man and the child with a glance 
 of her sharp eyes. 
 
 " She's gone," said Jean, cautiously. 
 
 "Oh, she's dead, is she?" 
 
 " Hush, Jane, the little one don't know. 
 She'll be less trouble to you, if " 
 
 " She'll be trouble enough, poor young 
 one. I can't have her on my hands, though, 
 and that's settled." 
 
 " I'll take her to the asylum in a day or 
 two. Be good to her, Jane." 
 
 " Hilda, throw those old flowers out doors. 
 You will be littering up the whole house 
 with them." 
 
 Hilda had been standing quietly by Jean 
 Pilliod, holding one of his hands. Her face 
 was flushed, and she looked steadily at a 
 crack in the floor. Now she pulled him 
 down toward her, and, reaching up, whis- 
 pered, " Can't I go home, please ? " 
 
 " Not now, little one. You stay here, like 
 a good girl, and I will bring Pierre." 
 
 Hilda went to the door and tossed the 
 flowers she had been clutching upon the 
 ground. Then she shyly sidled to a chair, 
 as far from Jane as possible, and climbed upon 
 its edge. For a long time she sat there 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 113 
 
 while Mrs. Pilliod bustled about. Once, 
 when she was alone for a few moments, she 
 ventured to make herself more comfortable. 
 Suddenly Mrs. Pilliod pushed another chair 
 before her and placed a pan of potatoes on it. 
 
 " Wash those," she said. " I guess it 
 won't hurt you to do something." 
 
 "Oh, thank you," said Hilda. In a mo- 
 ment she was almost happy. 
 
 " Can I pare them, please ? " she asked. 
 
 " You wouldn't pare them thin enough." 
 
 " Oh, I can do it just as thin as anything 
 and dig all the eyes out, too." 
 
 " Well, I'll bake them now. I haven't time 
 to watch you." 
 
 Hilda slipped from her chair and went 
 toward the shelf where the pans were kept. 
 
 " Shall I take this to rinse them in ? " 
 
 "Yes; I forgot that. It's a wonder I 
 remember anything with all I have to do." 
 
 " I guess you must be awful busy." 
 
 "Humph!" 
 
 " You have such a big house. I only have 
 a little place to mind, but it keeps me busy, 
 too." 
 
 " There, now," said Mrs. Pilliod, " don't talk 
 so much. You bother me." 
 
114 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 There was a touch of kindness in the 
 voice, however, and Hilda felt this more 
 than the reproof. She kept very quiet, and 
 rinding she could do nothing more went to 
 sit on the door-sill. When Alphonse came 
 in from the field at noon, he heard her sing- 
 ing softly to herself. 
 
 " She seems to be happy," he said to his 
 wife. 
 
 "She'll make fuss enough when night 
 comes," she replied. 
 
 Jean Pilliod came, bringing Pierre. The 
 boy was filled with wonder at the unexpected 
 holiday and the fact that his grandfather had 
 come for him. The children sat quietly to- 
 gether at the table, under the restraint of the 
 unusual, feeling what they could not under- 
 stand. 
 
 "Will there be a funeral?" asked Al- 
 phonse. 
 
 " Of course not," replied his wife. " The 
 town must bury her." 
 
 "When will they come for her?" 
 
 " This afternoon," said Jean Pilliod, sol- 
 emnly. 
 
 "You must stay around here," Jane said 
 to the children, as they hurried outdoors 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 115 
 
 after dinner. They hardly heard her. They 
 were eager to get away. Pierre had no idea 
 of what was happening, but he felt the pres- 
 ence of a mystery. Hilda was anxious to 
 tell him what she knew and had been think- 
 ing about. As soon as they were alone she 
 said : 
 
 " Pierre, my mamma has gone. She's gone 
 to the beautiful place down the river. She 
 couldn't wait for us, Pierre. She ain't over 
 there any more, and I can't ever go back, I 
 guess." 
 
 " How do you know ? " Pierre looked from 
 her to the hut across the island, in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " She told me." 
 
 " She ain't there any more ? " 
 
 " No. Oh, Pierre ! I want to go to her." 
 
 "Come on, then. Let's see first if she's 
 gone." 
 
 Pierre took Hilda's hand and they started 
 toward the hut. 
 
 " Pierre ! Pierre ! " called the sharp voice 
 of his mother. "Come back here. Didn't 
 I tell you not to go away ? " 
 
 The boy cast a look of hatred toward the 
 house. 
 
Il6 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 As the culprits returned, Mrs. Pilliod stood 
 in the doorway watching them. 
 
 " Now you come in here ! I'll see whether 
 you will mind me or not ! " 
 
 Pierre entered in sullen silence and Hilda 
 followed, pulling at her apron. She stood 
 for a moment near the door until she found 
 the courage to say : 
 
 " Please don't be angry at Pierre. I asked 
 him to go. I forgot." 
 
 " Go into the parlour, both of you, and be 
 quiet." 
 
 The parlour was a place Pierre had seen 
 only when sent there as a punishment. It 
 was his prison. His idea of a dungeon was 
 a gloomy, silent room like this. The blinds 
 were always closed, the air was musty from 
 long confinement. The pictures on the wall 
 were veiled with netting. The sombre furni- 
 ture seemed to watch him, frowning. He 
 had never dared to sit upon the forbidding 
 chairs. The yawning lounge seemed wait- 
 ing to devour him. There was a thick rag 
 carpet on the floor, and the silence of his 
 tread filled him with fear. He had been 
 shut in here from time to time since he was 
 three years old. All the nameless terrors of 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 117 
 
 his infancy were still here, modified, perhaps, 
 by his growing knowledge and by his cour- 
 age, but no less real. If Hilda had come 
 here first alone, she would have made friends 
 with everything at once, but, entering with 
 Pierre, she was affected by his feeling. 
 
 "What's in here?" she asked in a voice 
 of awe as the door closed behind them. 
 The presence of Hilda made Pierre bolder. 
 Called upon by her question, his imagina- 
 tion sought for an instant to give form and 
 substance to the terrors of the place, and 
 failing, they began to fade. 
 
 " Don't be afraid," he said. He flung an 
 almost contemptuous glance at the lounge. 
 Half an hour later they were safely concealed 
 in a cave, made by piling the chairs across 
 one corner of the room. Here they crouched, 
 now holding their breath, now peering con- 
 stantly forth at a host of strange pursuers. 
 There was still enough of gloom and the 
 old sense of fear left to give to their play an 
 added degree of delight. When tired of the 
 cave, it became a ship. As they began to 
 float away in this, Hilda said, clapping her 
 hands joyfully, 
 
 " Oh, look, Pierre, mamma is here, too." 
 
Il8 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 Pierre stopped working at the sail and 
 became thoughtful. 
 
 " To-night," he said, " we will go and see 
 if she is there." 
 
 " But let's play she is here now." 
 
 "No; we are on a long voyage to find 
 her." 
 
 " I wish she was here," said Hilda, almost 
 tearfully. 
 
 "All right," said Pierre; "we will make 
 her a nice bed to lie on." 
 
 They took the crocheted cover from the 
 back of the lounge and arranged it in the 
 corner. 
 
 Hilda sat by her mother, and Pierre stood 
 by the mast to scan the horizon. 
 
 "I think," he said, "that a storm is 
 coming." 
 
 He made a noise like the wind and began 
 to work hard at the ropes. 
 
 " Shall I help you ? " asked Hilda. 
 
 " No, no," panted Pierre ; " you stay in 
 the cabin." 
 
 The storm swept rapidly on them, but 
 when it broke they were ready for it. It 
 was a brave little ship, and Pierre was its 
 master. He now stood erect and confident 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 119 
 
 in the bow, with folded arms, while the 
 waves tossed around him, the wind roared 
 and whistled overhead, and the rain dashed 
 in his face. Oh, how he loved a wild tem- 
 pest ! He could have shouted in his joy. 
 
 Hilda knew by the way Pierre stood 
 that a terrible storm was raging. But she 
 thought only of her mother and sat closer 
 to her, singing softly so if she woke she 
 would hear and see her first and not be 
 frightened. 
 
 Meanwhile a spring wagon, bearing a long 
 pine box, had been driven to the hut and 
 back to the village again. 
 
 When the storm in the parlour was at its 
 height the door opened, and Mrs. Pilliod 
 looked in. 
 
 " What are you doing there ? " she called. 
 In a moment she had boarded the gallant 
 ship. With one hand she swept Pierre into 
 the sea and with the other pulled Hilda from 
 the cabin. 
 
 " Now get out of here, both of you. Go 
 outdoors and leave things alone. I never 
 saw such children, never ! " 
 
 Outside Pierre threw himself on the 
 ground and bit the earth in his rage. 
 
120 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 "Don't cry," sobbed Hilda; "don't cry." 
 
 " I ain't crying," said the boy, fiercely. " I 
 hate her." 
 
 That night Pierre and Hilda slept to- 
 gether. They sat very quietly in the sitting 
 room with their elders all the evening. 
 Jean Pilliod held the girl in his arms and 
 wondered why she did not ask for her 
 mother. When the children had been sent 
 to bed, Alphonse looked at his wife. 
 
 " I thought she would give us more 
 trouble." 
 
 " If you'd had to look after her all day, 
 you'd think she was trouble enough." 
 
 "She don't seem to miss her mother. I 
 thought she would." 
 
 " She has no heart," replied the woman. 
 " Children care for nothing but themselves." 
 
 " I am glad," said Jean Pilliod, " she had 
 Pierre to play with." 
 
 " Pierre plays too much. Why don't you 
 find him something to do, Alphonse ? " 
 
 " I have been thinking of that. He is 
 getting big enough to work." 
 
 " He is still at school," said old Jean, 
 shifting uneasily in his chair. " He'll have 
 to work soon enough." 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 121 
 
 " There you go," said the woman. " He'll 
 be good for nothing." 
 
 Jane Pilliod did not believe in waiting on 
 children, so Pierre and Hilda were sent to 
 bed alone. This, however, was no grievance 
 to them. All the afternoon they had been 
 waiting for night to come. Any one who 
 understood children could have seen that 
 during the evening, as they sat quietly to- 
 gether exchanging only a whispered word or 
 two, they were eager and impatient. 
 
 "How do we get out?" asked Hilda, as 
 soon as they were in their room. 
 
 " You'll see," said Pierre. 
 
 He led the way to the window. 
 
 " I climb down this vine to the roof of the 
 shed and jump off." 
 
 As they looked out, a thrill of pleasure 
 seemed to run all down the vine. 
 
 11 Hello, Pierre," cried the young leaves. 
 " Do you see how nice we've grown ? " 
 " Look at me," " And me." Those at the top 
 caught sight of Hilda peering anxiously 
 downward. They passed the news to the 
 ones below them, and there was instantly a 
 great prying and peering and many exclama- 
 tions of wonder. 
 
122 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " Oh, Pierre," said Hilda, " do you think I 
 can do it ? " 
 
 " Of course. I'll help you down." 
 
 They were obliged first to go to bed for 
 fear any one should come in. Pierre un- 
 buttoned Hilda's waist for her and brought 
 one of his night-dresses. 
 
 "I'd better sit up," said Hilda, as she 
 climbed in the bed, "or I'll go to sleep, 
 maybe." 
 
 " I won't," said Pierre. " I can stay awake 
 as long as I want to." 
 
 " I can't. Sometimes, when I am in bed, 
 the fairies come and I want to stay awake 
 and play with them. Just when we are 
 having the loveliest time I guess I must go 
 to sleep, for all at once it's morning always 
 and we weren't half begun." 
 
 " Lie down," said Pierre. " Some one is 
 coming." 
 
 "Ain't you asleep yet?" called Mrs. Pilliod. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," piped Hilda, as she scram- 
 bled under the clothes. 
 
 " Well, you go to sleep now and stop talk- 
 ing." 
 
 After a long time of great silence Hilda 
 whispered, 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 123 
 
 " Pierre ! " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I ain't asleep yet." 
 
 The boy sat up and listened. He could 
 hear outside the great pulse of the night, the 
 rhythmic beating of thousands upon thou- 
 sands of little voices. Inside the house 
 there was no sound. 
 
 He climbed out of bed and Hilda followed. 
 In a moment they were dressed and by the 
 window again. Pierre climbed quickly out, 
 but as soon as he had descended a few feet, 
 he stopped and told Hilda what to do. She 
 climbed on the sill and took hold of the vine. 
 She hesitated a moment, then shut her eyes 
 and slipped off her seat. Pierre caught her 
 feet and placed them on a branch. Find- 
 ing herself safe, Hilda opened her eyes and 
 laughed. 
 
 "Keep still," whispered Pierre; "they'll 
 hear us." 
 
 After a step or two Hilda could find places 
 for her feet without Pierre's aid, and they 
 were soon upon the ground. 
 
 This was Hilda's first night in the fields. 
 As she raced with Pierre toward the hut, all 
 fear of the shadows left her, and something 
 
124 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 of the sense of liberty and love of adventure 
 that he felt came also to her. Never again 
 could she see the moonlight on the earth, 
 the ghostly forms of trees and bushes, or 
 hear the night sounds without an emotion 
 of wild delight and nameless expectation. 
 
 Pierre was some distance ahead when they 
 neared the hut and Hilda called to him to 
 wait for her. As they entered its shadow, 
 they stopped a moment and listened. Hilda 
 suddenly remembered the strange expression 
 she had last seen on her mother's face, and 
 the fear she had felt before passed over her. 
 
 " She is gone," she whispered, taking hold 
 of Pierre. " I know she is gone." 
 
 " Come," he said slowly, " let's look." The 
 door was open and they peered cautiously 
 in. The light shone through the window 
 across the bed. There was no one there. 
 Even the coverings and tick were gone, 
 leaving only the bare frame. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! " gasped Hilda. " I 
 wish she had waited for me." 
 
 " Don't cry," said Pierre. " We'll find her 
 again. Come on ! " 
 
 He took the girl's hand and led her away. 
 
 " Where are we going ? " she asked, realiz- 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 125 
 
 ing by his manner that he had some purpose 
 in view. 
 
 " Down the river," he replied. 
 
 Hilda was not afraid this time when they 
 reached the boat. She sat on the bottom in 
 one end, and Pierre, standing in the other, 
 pushed away from the shore. He worked 
 steadily with his pole until they had passed 
 around the end of the island. As they 
 skirted the small knolls they had previously 
 visited, he scarcely noticed them. He was 
 away at last to the truly far-off lands. Every 
 push took him farther away from all that held 
 and worried him. Presently the main chan- 
 nel was reached, and he could no longer 
 touch bottom. He drew in his pole and 
 held it beside him as a mast against which 
 he leaned. The motion of the boat, slow at 
 first, became after an hour almost impercep- 
 tible, for the wind blowing up the river was 
 rapidly growing stronger, and the tide from 
 the lake began to turn the flow. Pierre was 
 not concerned by this. The island slipped 
 slowly behind him, and he kept his eyes fixed 
 upon the glowing sky above the city. For 
 over two hours he stood at his post, some- 
 times proudly scanning the fleet that fol- 
 
126 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 lowed him, and again wandering through 
 the glittering streets of the city he had 
 already reached. He grew very tired with- 
 out knowing it, and it was not upon the 
 bottom of his flat-boat that he finally 
 stretched himself, but upon a floating bed 
 of clouds that bore him through the cham- 
 bers of palaces, and along the shining streets, 
 thronged with birds he could talk with, and 
 fairies who called him by name. He under- 
 stood everything now, and every one about 
 him had always known what he wanted. 
 
 In the midst of it all he heard some one 
 he could not see calling him. He knew that 
 if he listened he would have to go back, and 
 he tried hard to cover his ears. The effort 
 awoke him, and he found himself in his boat 
 at the edge of the island. His grandfather 
 was standing on the bank with Hilda in his 
 arms. 
 
 " Come, Pierre," he said ; " you have given 
 us a fright." 
 
 " Are we there ? " asked Hilda. 
 
 She tried to lift her head, but old Jean 
 pressed it back on his shoulder, and she 
 was asleep again. Pierre gazed about him 
 in bewilderment. 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 127 
 
 " Hurry," said his grandfather. " Your 
 father and mother are hunting for you, 
 too." 
 
 u Oh dear," said the boy, "I thought I 
 was gone." 
 
 He kicked the boat in his vexation, and 
 followed his grandfather to the house. He 
 took his whipping without a sound, but Hilda 
 wept bitterly for him. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 WHEN Hilda was taken to the asylum, 
 Pierre felt the separation even more than 
 she. She had been so true a companion 
 that he did not know how much her sym- 
 pathy was to him, nor how much of their 
 happiness was due to her, until she was 
 gone. When he came from school and 
 looked down upon the island from the hill, 
 he could see the little stone under the wil- 
 lows where^ Hilda had always waited for him, 
 but she was no longer there. He did not 
 know at first what the trouble was. Every 
 day, for a time, when he reached the crest of 
 the hill, he looked below with the old expec- 
 tation of pleasure, if his spirits were good ; or 
 indifference, if in a quiet mood. Each time 
 the sight of the deserted stone brought him 
 a fresh surprise, a sudden shock of the heart, 
 followed by a dreary sense of loneliness. 
 About a mile down the river he could see 
 the cluster of buildings that formed the 
 asylum. 
 
 128 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 129 
 
 Hilda parted from the island and Pierre 
 very quietly. She was a little shy at first 
 with the three hundred children she found 
 herself among. Her uniform of striped blue 
 and white gingham pleased her for a time. 
 And then she was constantly learning to do 
 strange things, and the effort to understand 
 what was expected of her kept her wits alert. 
 As, however, the life about her became more 
 familiar, she began to feel the dulness of its 
 routine. She was no longer an individual 
 free to follow her own desires. She did not 
 even have the responsibilities that had made 
 her days so busy and important at home. 
 She was just one of a great number of wards, 
 utterly lost among them. Those in charge 
 of the institution the matrons, the nurses, 
 and the teachers were very far away from 
 her. They looked at her, not as if seeing a 
 little girl who wanted to know them and love 
 them, but as a nameless creature, among 
 many others. She began to long for Pierre, 
 and her happiest moments were those in 
 which, left alone for a time, she could play 
 at being again on the island with him. Every 
 morning, all the three hundred children were 
 put through a process of cleaning up their 
 
130 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 hands and faces were washed, their hair curled 
 and tied with ribbon. They were dressed in 
 fresh uniforms. This, of course, was a great 
 task for the attendants, a part of their day's 
 duty, a matter of rule, and the children 
 were hurried through in groups without any 
 individual care. All this was done simply 
 to make them more attractive in the eyes of 
 those seeking children to adopt. 
 
 Hilda was taught, with the others, to call 
 every man or woman who entered " papa " or 
 " mamma," and she caught the feeling very 
 soon that nothing here was for her affection. 
 She was told over and over that some day 
 one of the visitors who came would take her 
 away ; that if she were a good girl she could 
 go with a kind mamma, but if not, a bad one 
 would get her. This idea began to take a 
 very strong hold upon her fancy, and she 
 looked with apprehension into the face of 
 every stranger. 
 
 One day, as she was standing apart from 
 the children, gazing in this manner at a very 
 tall, prim woman, who had been for some 
 time examining them, she felt the eyes of the 
 visitor fixed upon her, and there was an in- 
 stant sinking at her heart. 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 131 
 
 " Come here," said the matron, motioning 
 to her. 
 
 She knew that she ought to run gladly to 
 the stranger and call her "mamma," but some- 
 how the words froze upon her lips. She 
 moved shyly nearer, glanced with a timid 
 smile into the critical face above her and 
 then upon the floor. 
 
 " She seems like a quiet little thing," said 
 the woman. " I certainly don't like children 
 who are noisy. Have you ever had the 
 measles ? " she said. 
 
 Hilda thought from her voice that this 
 was something she should have had, so she 
 answered, " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " I would rather have a child," said the 
 woman, " who has had all these things ; but 
 she looks well enough, and I guess she'll 
 do." 
 
 " Well," said the matron, " I will, of course, 
 have to see her guardian, Mr. Pilliod, and 
 get his consent ; but there will be no trouble 
 about that. You can be very thankful," she 
 said, turning to Hilda, " that you have got 
 such a good home so soon. In a few days 
 your new mamma will come and take you 
 way out to Dakota." 
 
132 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " Thank you," said Hilda. She looked up 
 and smiled bravely, but in reality this inter- 
 view had filled her with a feeling of utter 
 desolation, why, she could not have told. 
 She had, before this, discovered a window at 
 one end of an upper hall from which she 
 could see her island. Here she went as soon 
 as she was free, and, leaning against the sill, 
 pressed her cheek close to the pane. Never 
 before had her face expressed a settled sad- 
 ness. For the first time in her life had come 
 apprehension and conscious memory. She 
 thought of Pierre, of her mother, and longed 
 for them. She wished that they would come 
 for her now. Her heart rebelled at the 
 thought of this strange woman becoming her 
 mother, whom she had always hoped to find 
 again. The word " Dakota " filled her with 
 terror. It was not one of the places that 
 Pierre wished to find. It sounded like a 
 place far outside all that she had known or 
 hoped for. She did not cry, and made no 
 complaint. She would, in fact, have met 
 even such a fate as her mother's with a like 
 patience. She would bloom in the sunlight 
 and droop in the shadow; but she would more 
 often smile than weep, whatever her fate. 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 133 
 
 The letter from Sister Pelagia not only 
 reminded Mr. Alexander of the child, but it 
 made his half-fancied projects concerning her 
 seem more possible. When he finished read- 
 ing it, he reproached himself for his failure to 
 visit the island again and keep his promise 
 to her and to himself. 
 
 " She has forgotten me by this time," he 
 said. " Children do not remember." 
 
 This, however, did not satisfy him. He 
 had meant to keep closer track of her, and 
 to do something for her and her mother. 
 That evening he said to Mr. Mott, 
 
 "You remember the little girl I thought 
 something of adopting ? " 
 
 " The child you met on the day you saw 
 the Pogonia ? I must go up there some day 
 and see about that." 
 
 " We will go together. I think I will take 
 the child if I can arrange it." 
 
 He hesitated a moment, and then added : 
 " Would you be willing to give her a home 
 here ? I would send her to a convent to be 
 educated, but I would want this to be her 
 home." 
 
 " I should think Primrose would be glad of 
 that," said Mr. Mott "We will speak to her." 
 
134 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 They found her in the new enclosure 
 training the young vines which had already 
 begun to throw out hundreds of tendrils 
 about the summer-house built for her. 
 Nearly two months had passed since this 
 little Eden had been designed. The sod 
 was well set, a number of bushes and trees 
 were planted, a simple fountain was playing 
 in its basin, the overflow from which fed a 
 tiny stream that crossed the lawn. 
 
 " Primrose," said her father, " Mr. Alexan- 
 der wants us to make a home for a little girl 
 of his." 
 
 " Have you a child ? " she asked, looking 
 eagerly into his eyes. 
 
 " Not one of my own," he replied, smiling; 
 " but I may adopt one. If I do, will you be 
 her sister ? " 
 
 " Oh," said Primrose, " will you really bring 
 her to me ? If you do, you will make me 
 very happy. I have never had any but make- 
 believes ; and if you bring me a real little girl 
 for a sister, you will see how I will love 
 her." 
 
 Now at this very moment Hilda was turn- 
 ing sadly from the window in the asylum, 
 for the twilight had hidden her island from 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 135 
 
 her. These three friends of hers did not 
 know what need there was for haste. 
 
 Mr. Alexander was in good spirits as he 
 left the garden. 
 
 " We will go up there in a few days," he 
 called back to Mr. Mott, " and look after our 
 Pogonias." 
 
 The next afternoon, as he was leaving his 
 office, he heard the hoarse call of the up-river 
 steamer as it neared its dock a few blocks 
 away. It was a hot afternoon, and the 
 thought of the cool deck came to him with 
 a pleasant suggestion. He would take the 
 ride up to Perrysburg and back. He walked 
 to the river and watched the landing of the 
 boat. It was filled with children. He saw 
 them peering excitedly over the rail of the 
 upper deck, and heard their piping voices. 
 It was a pleasant sight and sound to him. 
 He stepped aboard, and, going above, placed 
 his chair near the bow where he could feel 
 and hear the children near him, and watch 
 the distant windings of the river. When the 
 boat was in motion, the wind stirred about 
 him and he bared his head to its touch. He 
 passed a group of great red grain elevators 
 marked No. i, No. 2, No. 3, No. 4, in enor- 
 
136 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 mous white letters. They were his own. 
 Moored to the dock by them were two of 
 the finest steam barges on the lakes, each 
 bearing his name with different numbers to 
 distinguish them. He saw men toiling about 
 the elevators and boats, and thought as he had 
 often before, " Those fellows there ought not 
 to work all the time." 
 
 Whenever he looked at the world of labour 
 and saw its poverty and narrow bounds, he 
 felt that something was wrong; but seeing 
 no way to remedy it, he looked away. 
 
 The bridges, that bound the east and 
 west sides of the city, were opened to let 
 them through. Lumber yards and coal pits 
 were passed. Then came a mile of houses 
 close together, then a few stragglers, and the 
 city was behind. Now the clear blue waters 
 ran between green meadows, market gardens, 
 little hills covered with vineyards and fruit 
 orchards, and now and then appeared a 
 remnant of the fine forest that once covered 
 the banks. He could see in the distance, 
 on the right, the buildings of the asylum, 
 and on the left, farther up, the spire of the 
 Church of Our Lady. In half an hour he 
 would turn a bend in the river and get a 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 137 
 
 view of the island and the village of Maumee 
 behind it. He was not consciously thinking 
 at all, but just idly watching the passing 
 beauty, or turning a moment now and then 
 to look at a group of children who came 
 near him in their play. Suddenly he felt a 
 little hand upon his knee, and looking down, 
 he saw his small friend of the island. She 
 was smiling, as if in expectation of happiness ; 
 but there was something wistful and shy in 
 the expression of her eyes that spoke of un- 
 certainty. She was much older than she 
 was two months before. 
 
 " Hello, little one," he said, taking her on 
 his knee at once, " what are you doing 
 here?" 
 
 " I'm having a excursion." 
 
 " Is your mamma here ? " he asked, looking 
 around to see. 
 
 " Oh, no. My mamma's gone. I looked 
 everywhere for her to-day, but she wasn't 
 there. We didn't go far enough, I guess." 
 
 She suddenly became restless, and slipping 
 from his knee said excitedly, 
 
 " I must find my own mamma or they will 
 send me away with another one I don't like 
 at all." 
 
138 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 He took her hand and said gently, 
 
 " Are you in the asylum ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but a terrible tall woman is going 
 to take me 'way off to Dakota, and I don't 
 want to go either ; and I've been just as good 
 as I can be, too." 
 
 " Well, now, you see here," said Mr. Alex- 
 ander, jumping up, "they'll do nothing of 
 the kind. You're my little girl if your 
 mother's gone, and you'll come with me and 
 no one else." 
 
 " Oh, am I ? " she cried. " Oh, goody, 
 goody, but I'm glad ! " 
 
 They found the matron sunning herself 
 on the lee side of the boat, and the matter 
 was quickly arranged to his satisfaction, for 
 he was one of the trustees of the asylum. 
 
 " Hilda is a very beautiful and affectionate 
 child," said the matron, " and I am glad you 
 will take her." 
 
 " No one, not even Jean Pilliod, must know 
 where she has gone," said he. " Even you 
 must forget." 
 
 " Very well," replied the matron, " I will 
 begin now, and so the record of her adop- 
 tion by the Dakota woman will remain 
 unchanged. It will do no harm." 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 139 
 
 She knew that Mr. Pilliod, having satisfied 
 himself that Hilda would have a comfortable 
 home, did not expect to see her again ; and 
 she knew also that he would gladly consent 
 to the change, were he asked. 
 
 " What shall I say to the woman when 
 she comes ? " 
 
 " Tell her that an old friend of the family 
 appeared and took her away. I will make 
 things sure by keeping Hilda with me now." 
 
 Hilda stood close to him, holding his hand 
 and occasionally pressing her cheek against 
 it. 
 
 " How about her clothes and playthings ? " 
 asked the matron. 
 
 " I will get everything new for her. Hilda," 
 he asked, " is there anything of yours at the 
 asylum you would like ? " 
 
 " Only Alice." 
 
 " Who is Alice ? " 
 
 " She's my daughter. She isn't very well, 
 you know." 
 
 " Is it a doll ? " asked Mr. Alexander. The 
 matron nodded, but Hilda said earnestly, 
 
 " No, no, she's my daughter. Really and 
 truly she is. You won't leave her there, will 
 you?" 
 
140 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 "Of course we won't. I'll send my car- 
 riage for Alice in the morning. If she is 
 sick, you know it would never do to send 
 her by mail." 
 
 " Her arm came off with the measles, and 
 her face got cracked with whooping-cough. 
 And every time she has a wedding the cake 
 and candy makes her worse." 
 
 " Well, well, she must have a hard time of 
 it." 
 
 " I love Alice very much, don't you ? " 
 She looked up at him smiling sweetly. 
 
 " Yes, I am very fond of Alice and of her 
 mamma, too." 
 
 " Is that me ? " she asked. 
 
 " I guess it is," he replied. 
 
 It had been a great many years since he 
 had spoken of love to any one, and it seemed 
 strange to him. 
 
 " I love you, too," said the child. When 
 the boat stopped at the landing, Mr. Alex- 
 ander and Hilda stood by the rail and 
 watched the children troop ashore. 
 
 " I don't have to go back, do I ? " said she, 
 holding fast to his hand. 
 
 " No, indeed. You are going with me to 
 a pretty little home in a garden where your 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 141 
 
 Uncle Christopher and your big sister Prim- 
 rose are expecting you." 
 
 " Do they love me, too ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, they do very much." 
 
 She sighed with satisfaction and went 
 quietly with him to his seat in the bow. She 
 climbed on a chair and, kneeling down, 
 rested her arms on the rail. 
 
 " Look, look," she cried eagerly, as the 
 island swept full into view; "it is there." 
 She pointed toward it and then grew quiet 
 again. Until Perrysburg was reached, and 
 while the boat was at the wharf, she remained 
 motionless by the rail. When they turned 
 around to return, she crossed to the other 
 side and climbed again to where she could 
 see. The boat, as it circled about, approached 
 closer to the island, and Hilda thought she 
 saw Pierre standing in the midst of their city, 
 looking toward them. The boat turned a 
 little more and the island passed out of her 
 view. 
 
 Mr. Alexander had been watching her 
 thoughtfully. He had been surprised by the 
 intentness of her gaze and by her silence. 
 As he followed the play of emotions over 
 her young face, he was troubled. Had he 
 
142 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 appeared too late? Was it possible that 
 sorrow had already sown its seeds here ? He 
 wished he could read her thoughts ; but he 
 felt that she herself did not know what they 
 were, and he hesitated to question her. Sen- 
 sitive as he was to the curious gaze of others, 
 he could not attempt to pry into even this 
 child's heart without a sense of shame. He 
 began to feel that he should not watch her 
 so closely, and looked away. 
 
 A child like Hilda could not long escape 
 the influence of such a presence. She looked 
 into his face and turning about in her chair, 
 nestled close beside him. He put his arm 
 about her and was reassured. 
 
 " She will forget all that," he said to him- 
 self. " She is surely too young to remember." 
 
 Most children have made many imaginary 
 visits to fairyland, but Hilda is the only one 
 I know who ever really went there. The 
 moment she passed through the gate, between 
 the lilac bushes, and saw the garden about 
 her and the quaint little cottage in the centre, 
 she knew that she was there. Primrose saw 
 them from the kitchen door, and came out to 
 meet them. The moment Hilda looked into 
 her homely face, she began to worship her, 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 143 
 
 for she saw at once how beautiful she was. 
 Could children paint, the world would bow 
 in adoration before the portraits of those 
 who love them ; for it would see, for the first 
 time, the countenance of the Divine. 
 
 " This is Hilda," said Mr. Alexander. 
 
 Now, Primrose did not even kiss her. 
 She only said : " I was just about to pick 
 some flowers for the table. Come on, 
 Hilda." 
 
 " Oh, my," cried the child, as she went with 
 Primrose through the garden, "just look at 
 those pansies! Oh, mercy on us, I never 
 saw so many ! I know what those are, too, 
 they are tulips. Oh, look, Primrose, 
 what are them ? " 
 
 " What are those ? " 
 
 "Yes, I mean those. What are they; tell 
 me quick." 
 
 " They are hyacinths." 
 
 "It don't hurt the flowers to pick them, 
 does it?" 
 
 " No, but we won't pick the hyacinths nor 
 the tulips nor the daffodils, those yellow 
 flowers over there, for they came from little 
 bulbs that have waited patiently in the ground 
 all winter and only bloom once. So we will 
 
144 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 let them keep their blossom as long as they 
 can. But we will pick the pansies and 
 violets, for it will be good for them, and the 
 new buds will do better." 
 
 Primrose showed her how to find the ones 
 with the long stems. 
 
 " You may pick the bouquets for us every 
 day," she said, " and that will be a great help." 
 
 " Oh, but I can do lots of things if you'll 
 just let me." 
 
 " Can you ? I am glad of that, for I need 
 some one very much." 
 
 "Why, I can do most anything. I can 
 cook and sweep and set the table and wash 
 dishes and make all Alice's clothes, I wish 
 Alice was here now; she would be very, 
 very happy, and you would love her, too. 
 Maybe she'd get well, only her arm's off and 
 her face is all cracked up terrible she can't 
 ever be real well, I guess, can she ? " 
 
 " Where is Alice ? " 
 
 " At. the asylum. He is going to take 
 her in his carriage because she's too sick to 
 send by by mail. What is mail ? " 
 
 " I'll show you some day. It's the way 
 letters are sent. I'll tell you all about it, so 
 you'll know. But who is * he '? " 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 145 
 
 "Why, him." 
 
 " Mr. Alexander ? " 
 
 " He brought me here and is always going 
 to be good to me. He said so." 
 
 " Would you like to call him papa ? " 
 
 " No," she shuddered a little. 
 
 " I'll tell you what," said Primrose, hastily, 
 "call him Uncle Minot. He'd like that 
 best, I guess." 
 
 " Then I've got two uncles already, 
 Uncle Minot and Uncle Christopher, and 
 you are my dear, dear sister Primrose." 
 
 " Oh, you have a great many more folks 
 than that. There is a family right under 
 that bush, and every one of them are your 
 
 own cousins." 
 
 "Really?" asked Hilda, looking first at 
 the bush and then quizzically into Primrose's 
 face. 
 
 " I know," she whispered. Then looking 
 at the bush again she cried merrily : " I can 
 see them all at the window. Can I take 
 them a pansy ? This one, see, it's just a 
 little one and won't matter." 
 
 She jumped up and, running to the bush, 
 tossed the flower in. "My name's Hilda," 
 she said. " What's yours ? " 
 
146 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " I'll tell you to-morrow all about them," 
 said Primrose. " We must go and get sup- 
 per now. I'll take you to the summer- 
 house and show you all your little nieces and 
 nephews my own children, you know. I 
 have a new home for them now, and I'll show 
 you that, too. But the vines have not cov- 
 ered it yet, and the old place is better for 
 them. I will teach you how to help the 
 vines grow." 
 
 " I wish it was to-morrow," said the child. 
 
 When Mr. Alexander and Mr. Mott came 
 in, they saw Primrose and Hilda putting the 
 supper on the table. 
 
 " Isn't she wonderful ? " asked Mr. Alex- 
 ander, proudly. 
 
 Mr. Mott put on his spectacles and called 
 her to him. 
 
 She had been eagerly helping Primrose 
 and had not noticed their entrance. She 
 suddenly became quiet at this summons and 
 moved shyly toward him. He examined her 
 as critically as he would one of his young 
 cuttings, and said : 
 
 " She seems to be well made and healthy. 
 How do you find her, Primrose ? " 
 
 " Hilda, bring me a dish for the potatoes," 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 147 
 
 called Primrose. " Now you watch the cof- 
 fee," she said, "and tell me when it boils." 
 
 She took the two men to the porch and 
 said, 
 
 " Don't you ever talk about Hilda to her 
 face again." 
 
 Her eyes snapped as she said this, and her 
 voice was actually severe. Mr. Mott had 
 never seen her like this before, and he looked 
 at her aghast. 
 
 " Can she hear ? " he asked in confusion. 
 
 " Didn't you see her ears ? You looked at 
 her close enough." 
 
 "Why, Primrose," faltered the old man, "I 
 didn't suppose she would understand." 
 
 Primrose became herself again. 
 
 " Of course you didn't," she said; " I ought 
 not to have spoken so. But she does under- 
 stand everything. Just treat her as you do 
 me and you'll see." 
 
 The two old fellows entered, rather crest- 
 fallen, and sat down to the table in silence. 
 Mr. Mott looked at Hilda askance. He 
 seemed rather afraid of her. He wanted 
 very much to be agreeable, but he didn't 
 know how. She caught his look, however, 
 and seemed to understand ; for she said, 
 
148 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 as she tucked her napkin under her chin, 
 " You're my Uncle Christopher, ain't you ? " 
 
 That evening everything was made right 
 between them forever, for he told her a story, 
 as they sat on the porch, about a bee that 
 had been brought up on basswood honey, and 
 passed through many adventures, searching 
 for it when it grew up. 
 
 Whenever she saw a bee among the 
 flowers after this, she knew what he was 
 doing, and wondered if he was satisfied with 
 what he got, or if he was still looking for a 
 basswood tree. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 EARLY in the morning, Primrose took 
 Hilda into the garden and began to intro- 
 duce her to its wonders. For thirty years 
 she had walked and worked here, and every 
 day had revealed to her some new friend, and 
 made the old ones dearer. She had kept all 
 her dolls, and a number of them were discov- 
 ered now in little secret places along the 
 gravel paths and in the old summer-house. 
 She was the right kind of a guide through 
 fairyland. 
 
 " And now," said she, " we will go to the 
 enclosure, for that is the place where we will 
 be most of the time. We have a great deal 
 to do there, for it is all new, and there are 
 vines to train, and things to plant, and walks 
 to make. That is to belong to us. It is our 
 very own, and when any one comes there, 
 they are just our visitors." 
 
 As they walked about the enclosure, every- 
 thing they saw was divided between them. 
 
 149 
 
150 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 Certain of the bushes and flowers and trees 
 would belong to Primrose, and certain others 
 would be Hilda's own. While effecting this 
 division, which was making Hilda happy to 
 giddiness, they came upon two climbing 
 roses, growing close together, by the summer- 
 house. 
 
 Hilda chose one of these, and then stood 
 for a moment looking thoughtfully at both. 
 
 " Primrose," she said presently, " is yours 
 any one in particular? " 
 
 "No, Hilda; why?" 
 
 " Well, would you mind very much if I had 
 it, too ? " 
 
 " I would like that very much. They shall 
 both be yours." 
 
 This seemed to please the child more than 
 anything that had occurred, and she returned 
 frequently during the day to her rose vines. 
 
 Every afternoon Mr. Alexander hurried 
 from his office to Mr. Mott's. All day he 
 thought of Hilda, recalling something she 
 had said or done the day before, trying to 
 picture what she might be doing now. He 
 no longer feared that her previous life had 
 formed a bias toward sorrow. He saw that 
 she had brought no troubles with her. 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 151 
 
 There was no sign of melancholy nor of 
 longing. She seemed to have forgotten 
 everything outside the garden and her daily 
 life, and she found nothing there but affec- 
 tion and delight. As he became certain of 
 this, and as his own love for Hilda grew, he 
 was troubled by a new anxiety. Perhaps 
 she would forget the days that were passing 
 now as readily as those that had preceded 
 them. In September, she would be sent to 
 the convent. He would see very little of 
 her in the years that followed. How, then, 
 could he expect to become an influence in 
 her life ? He would be nothing to her at 
 all. She would forget him as soon as she 
 was gone. Such thoughts as these troubled 
 him when he was at his office or his club. 
 The moment he entered the garden they 
 were put to flight by Hilda. The child 
 seemed to realize that he belonged to her 
 more than did the others. They were good 
 to her and she was happy ; but there was a 
 different demand made upon her in her rela- 
 tions with her Uncle Minot. She felt that 
 here the responsibility was reversed that 
 she must be good to him. She soon learned 
 when to expect him. All the morning she 
 
152 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 worked in the house and garden with Prim- 
 rose. Sometimes in the afternoon she would 
 sit for a while near Mr. Mott, silently watch- 
 ing him as he examined his bulbs, or made 
 cuttings, or pruned his trees and shrubs, or 
 repotted his plants. It was not long before 
 he began to look for her coming and to miss 
 her when she was not there. She was so 
 receptive and so perfect a little embodiment 
 of sympathy that he began unconsciously to 
 talk out loud to her when she approached, 
 just as he had for years communed with 
 himself. She was a magnet to his thoughts, 
 drawing them forth in speech. She listened, 
 of course, as unconsciously as he talked. 
 Perhaps it was only the pleasant sound of 
 his voice, or the natural delight of children 
 in watching whatever is doing, or it may 
 have been both of these, combined with the 
 beautiful spirit of the man, that drew her to 
 him and made her contented to sit silently 
 near. But unconscious of it as they both 
 were, this constant flow of words and feeling, 
 passing from the old man through the senses 
 of the child, left its influence on her mind. 
 Day by day the garden became more signifi- 
 cant in her eyes. She began to have vague 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 153 
 
 ideas concerning the relation of the plants to 
 the soil, the sunlight, and the air. She knew 
 how the roots of many things appeared and 
 spread out under the ground, how they 
 searched for food and water and carried it 
 up into the stalks and branches. She looked 
 at the blossoms of the trees and knew that 
 they told of the fruit to come. It is impossi- 
 ble to tell of the countless perceptions form- 
 ing in her mind, of the questions that arose, 
 of the fancies with which she was busy. 
 Most of her fancies and inquiries were, no 
 doubt, awakened by what she caught of the 
 old gardener's discourses, but they were pur- 
 sued either alone, with Primrose, or with Mr. 
 Alexander. One day, when she met him at 
 the gate where she was usually waiting for 
 him, she said, 
 
 " Uncle Minot, what does the beautiful 
 heralds of the harvest mean?" 
 
 He hardly knew what to say to this ques- 
 tion; but while he hesitated, looking down in 
 some wonder at the little head so far below 
 him, she added, " I know what they are, but 
 I don't know what they mean." 
 
 " What are they, little one ? " 
 
 " They are the peach and apple blossoms." 
 
154 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " That's right," he said, understanding at 
 once what she wanted to know, but wonder- 
 ing how she had caught the phrase. " I'll 
 tell you what it means. The harvest means 
 the fruit we gather from the trees or bushes, 
 or the grain we get from the fields. A her- 
 ald is some person or thing that tells about 
 the coming of something else. Now, if you 
 run ahead of me and tell Primrose I am 
 coming, you will be my herald just as the 
 blossoms tell us now that there will be 
 peaches and apples and pears, quinces and 
 currants and raspberries, and hundreds of 
 other things a little later. In that way, 
 they are the heralds of the harvest." 
 
 He marvelled at this question of Hilda's, 
 but it was only one of a thousand things she 
 said that were wonderful to him. I have 
 known people who would laugh at so care- 
 ful an answer to such a question from a 
 child. They would think the words thrown 
 away. But there are few children who. do 
 not make good use of what information is 
 given them. The profoundest subjects are 
 very simple to them. 
 
 A few days later, Hilda said to Primrose, 
 " What kind of fruit will grow on the syringa 
 bushes?" 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 155 
 
 " They don't bear any fruit, Hilda. Did 
 you think they did ? " 
 
 " But just look at these beautiful heralds 
 of the harvest. What are they doing, then ? " 
 
 " There are lots of bushes that blossom, 
 but don't have any fruit." 
 
 " Oh," said Hilda, in the tone of one who 
 has received information that does not in- 
 form. 
 
 Primrose noticed this and said, 
 
 " We will ask Uncle Christopher about it." 
 
 That evening, as they were all on the porch 
 together, Hilda whispered to Primrose, " Ask 
 him now." 
 
 " What shall I ask him, dear, and which 
 one shall I ask ? " 
 
 " Uncle Christopher. Ask him about the 
 bushes that blossom. You said you would." 
 
 "Father," said Primrose, "Hilda and I 
 want to know why some trees and bushes 
 blossom and don't bear any fruit. You have 
 often spoken of the blossoms as the beautiful 
 heralds of the harvest, but there is no har- 
 vest from the syringa bushes." 
 
 "Well, now, that is very true," said Mr. 
 Mott, " and it only shows how limited are 
 most of our pet ideas. Poetical as that 
 
156 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 phrase is, it gives a poor expression to the 
 meaning of the blossoms. I will never use 
 it again, for you and Hilda have helped me 
 see a little farther. Every blossom in this 
 garden is telling us the same thing. They 
 are not thinking of something for us to eat 
 at all, they are really saying : * There is life 
 and health in this stem where I am. The 
 plant that bears me is a good plant and will 
 be a great blessing to the earth and air that 
 have fed it.' 
 
 " Beauty speaks for virtue wherever it is 
 seen. I only have to look into your face, 
 Hilda, to know that you are a good girl, good 
 just as those fine, glowing tulips are good, 
 and as worthy to be loved. And there is that 
 little bush all twisted and wrinkled, but it is 
 covered with rich green leaves and perfect 
 blossoms, so I know it is a good bush, too, 
 and will give life to others, even better per- 
 haps. It is like Primrose here. The bush 
 itself in her case is not so comely as in yours ; 
 but the leaves are sweet and green, and the 
 blossoms are beautiful." 
 
 Primrose smiled on her father and was 
 very happy. Hilda looked from her to the 
 bush and laughed. She may have under- 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 157 
 
 stood very little of all this ; but it was from 
 such seeds as these that her philosophy 
 grew. 
 
 For several days after this, Primrose often 
 found Hilda gazing earnestly upon her face. 
 She only smiled when she noticed this, but 
 it caused her to wonder. At last Hilda 
 said, 
 
 " Primrose, is your smile the blossom ? " 
 
 " I hardly knew myself just what it was," 
 replied Primrose ; " but perhaps that is it." 
 
 As the summer passed, Mr. Alexander 
 began to feel a horror of the approaching 
 separation. He spent more and more time 
 in the garden. He was seldom there later 
 than noon, and he often came to breakfast to 
 remain for the day. When he was there, 
 Hilda was near him. She seemed to make 
 it a point to include him in whatever she did. 
 He sometimes felt a little ashamed of his 
 growing dependence on her and would get 
 up from the porch where he had been sitting, 
 while she was helping Primrose within, and 
 join Mr. Mott, who was forever fussing with 
 some vine, or tree, or plant in his experiment 
 house. As long as he remained on the porch, 
 Hilda would call to him now and then to tell 
 
158 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 him what she and Primrose were doing, or, 
 having left Alice in his care, would appear 
 in the doorway at intervals to see how he 
 fared. If he walked away, she seemed to 
 forget him and become at once engrossed 
 with her work and Primrose. They had a 
 great deal to do, these two, for besides the 
 housework, they looked after the vegetable 
 beds and the new enclosure where, every 
 day, something was waiting to be done. 
 But you may be sure none of this was work 
 to them. It was that which gave the greatest 
 zest to the day at hand and made the morrow 
 seem too far away. 
 
 When the housework was done, and they 
 went into the garden, trowel or hoe in hand, 
 each wearing a sunbonnet and a long apron, 
 Hilda would look up Mr. Alexander. If he 
 seemed to be contented where he was, hav- 
 ing found some topic to discuss with his 
 friend, or some experiment he was interested 
 in watching, she would stand near him a 
 moment, holding his hand, and then, without 
 disturbing him, return to Primrose. If he 
 seemed only to be waiting for her, she would 
 say: "Come on, Uncle Minot, I am going 
 to plant me a rose-bush to-day, near the 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 159 
 
 fountain," or, " My vines have climbed so 
 high on the summer-house I can't reach 
 them. Even Primrose needs a step-ladder 
 for hers. Come and help me." 
 
 Sometimes he would walk away just for 
 the delight of having her come for him. It 
 gave him the keenest pleasure he had ever 
 known to hear her approaching as he stood 
 listening for her feet, and to feel her hand 
 slip into his. 
 
 June and July passed, and Hilda had not 
 once spoken of the island nor of her mother. 
 Even the asylum seemed to have gone from 
 her mind. Now it happened one day that 
 Mr. Alexander was sitting in the new sum- 
 mer-house reading. Primrose was sewing 
 near by, and, just outside, Hilda was talking 
 to her rose vines. 
 
 " Now, Pierre," she was saying, " we are 
 both very beautiful. I know you will have 
 wonderful blossoms some day, and I hope I 
 will, too. Uncle Christopher says I will, and 
 he knows. O dear, I wish we were already 
 clear over the roof, for then we would be 
 grown up, and you could really and truly 
 come to me. If you only knew how I love 
 you, Pierre ! " 
 
160 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 Primrose glanced at Mr. Alexander and 
 smiled, but he was looking toward Hilda in 
 amazement. 
 
 " Hilda, Hilda," he called sharply, " what 
 are you talking about ? Who is Pierre ? " 
 
 There was instant silence outside. 
 
 " Aren't you ashamed ? " cried Primrose, 
 angrily. " She was just talking to some boy 
 of her fancy. You have frightened her." 
 
 She looked at him reproachfully and hur- 
 ried to Hilda. She found her sitting on the 
 ground, as still as a statue. 
 
 " Never mind," she said. " Your Uncle 
 Minot is reading some awful book, I guess, 
 and it made him speak without thinking." 
 
 Mr. Alexander watched them through the 
 slats and vines and felt very much ashamed 
 of himself. He saw Hilda peer cautiously 
 at him, and he smiled his apology. She 
 smiled back at once and whispered to Prim- 
 rose : " He is all right now. My, but he 
 surprised me ! " 
 
 Mr. Alexander returned to his book, but 
 he could not read. He was sorry he had 
 spoken harshly to Hilda, but he could not 
 forget at once the alarm he had felt. 
 
 After a time he said softly, so that Hilda 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 161 
 
 would not hear : " Primrose, are you sure 
 that she has not made some acquaintances 
 around here ? Does she ever stand by the 
 fence and talk to the children on the street?" 
 
 " I am sure she does not. Don't you think 
 you are foolish, now? She is too busy all 
 day with father or with me, when you are 
 away." 
 
 " No, Primrose, I am not foolish. I want 
 her to be happy. She is getting old enough 
 now to remember. I can see how she ma- 
 tures every day. I don't know that I ought 
 to send her even to the convent, but she 
 ought not to be kept penned in here. There, 
 at least, she will have none but young girls 
 and the sisters about her. But no boys, 
 Primrose we must not let her know any 
 boys." 
 
 Primrose laughed. 
 
 " That is all right," he said, smiling ; " but 
 boys and girls ought never to see each other. 
 When men and women are forty, they some- 
 times know what is good for them, and can 
 distinguish between love and the springtime. 
 It is not safe for them to meet before." 
 
 He had forgotten Hilda, and spoke with 
 considerable vigour. That evening, as they 
 
1 62 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 were getting the supper, Hilda said to Prim- 
 rose, 
 
 " What is a convent ? " 
 
 This question took even Primrose by sur- 
 prise. She considered for a moment, and 
 replied : 
 
 " It is a great house, like a palace in a gar- 
 den, much larger and more beautiful than 
 ours. Hundreds of little girls go there and 
 sing and sew and learn how to read." 
 
 " But must I go there ? I don't want to, 
 Primrose. It seems as if I was always going 
 away." 
 
 " Oh, Hilda, you must not think of it that 
 way. You will never really leave us, you 
 know. You will be our Hilda as long as 
 you live." 
 
 The child ran to her and hid her face in 
 her dress. These two seldom kissed each 
 other, but when they did it meant some- 
 thing. Primrose stooped, and, putting her 
 arms about her, hugged and kissed her good, 
 and her heart was no longer troubled. 
 
 Primrose spent most of her time in August 
 sewing. Mr. Alexander had written to Sis- 
 ter Pelagia, simply announcing his adoption 
 of Hilda and his intention of sending her to 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 163 
 
 the convent in the fall. She replied to his 
 letter as briefly, but she made plain the pleas- 
 ure she felt in his happiness, and he knew 
 she would take good care of his ward. She 
 enclosed a copy of the " Regulations of ward- 
 robe articles required." He looked at it in 
 astonishment, and took it at once to Prim- 
 rose. It was a formidable list. 
 
 " I will give you the money to buy these 
 things," he said, " if it will not trouble you 
 too much. Can you get them all ready 
 made?" 
 
 " The idea," laughed Primrose ; " do you 
 suppose I would buy them or let any one 
 else make them? I will get the cloth at 
 once and make every bit of her clothing 
 myself. It is terrible to have her go," she 
 added with a faltering voice. " I will at least 
 know that a trunkful of love goes with her." 
 
 Primrose determined that there should be 
 as little grief in Hilda's going as possible. 
 Above all things the child must not feel that 
 she was being sent away. Hilda had brought 
 to her more than two months of supreme hap- 
 piness. They had understood each other 
 from the first, and every hour had increased 
 the intimacy of their relations. The child 
 
1 64 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 did not know how rare was such a tender 
 and complete affection, and how great the 
 loss of such a companionship would be ; but 
 the woman did. And yet the one purpose 
 of Primrose was to create in Hilda a desire 
 to go. She talked to her of the fairies that 
 played in the moonlight in the convent 
 grounds. She told her stories of beautiful 
 nuns, and one of a little princess who went 
 to a convent to live because it was the hap- 
 piest place in her whole kingdom. 
 
 " And just think of all the things you must 
 take with you, twelve pairs of stockings. 
 Why, I don't think the princess had as many 
 as that ; and two aprons, and three dresses, 
 two pairs of shoes, and six little underskirts, 
 and waists with wide embroidery, and twelve 
 pocket handkerchiefs with your name worked 
 on them in white silk. You will have two 
 long, white veils, flowing almost to your feet, 
 which you will wear when you go to the 
 chapel with all the other little girls in long 
 veils. And a toilet set like the one on my 
 bureau, only new and much prettier." 
 
 " O dear," Hilda sighed, " I wish I could 
 have all these things and stay here be- 
 sides." 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 165 
 
 " Don't you think the princess was quite 
 happy there? She said she was." 
 
 " But she didn't have you, nor Uncle 
 Minot, nor Uncle Christopher, either." 
 
 " You will take a real silver goblet, and a 
 knife and fork, a table, and a teaspoon, a 
 napkin ring, and six napkins. Then there 
 is the workbox with a strong lock and key. 
 And in the workbox there will be needles 
 and thread, a ball of wax and a thimble, a 
 pair of bright shears and darning cotton. 
 
 " And the best thing of all is the portfolio 
 with blue paper and envelopes. For you will 
 learn to write and to read, and we will send 
 long, long letters to each other. You will 
 write to Uncle Minot and get letters from 
 him. I will have Uncle Christopher tell 
 you a new story every evening, and when 
 you read them you will think you are curled 
 up in your end of the bench on the porch." 
 
 When all this had been repeated several 
 times, Hilda began to enjoy it as she would 
 a fairy tale. She ceased to interrupt with 
 wishes and objections and began to make 
 additions of her own. The idea of the letters 
 pleased her, and she would sometimes play 
 at writing one, telling Primrose what she 
 
1 66 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 said. When they went shopping together, 
 and she was allowed to look at everything 
 as long as she wished and to choose what 
 she must have for herself, all her dread of 
 going was forgotten in her delight. Then 
 came the long, happy, busy days, when she 
 sat with Primrose and helped to make the 
 clothes. 
 
 At first, when Mr. Alexander found them 
 so engaged, he sat near them, watching with 
 a sorrowful face. But Primrose would not 
 allow this. 
 
 " You know how quick she is to respond 
 to the feelings of others. If you are sad, she 
 will grieve. Since she must go, don't you 
 want her to take a light heart with her ? " 
 
 " You are right," he said. " I will be 
 cheerful. Can it be," he said to himself, 
 " that I am jealous of the very happiness I 
 wished for her ? " 
 
 On the day of the departure Primrose and 
 Hilda rose very early and went into the 
 garden. They walked hand-in-hand along 
 the paths, leaving tender good-bys and tearful 
 kisses for the little cousins and nephews and 
 nieces dwelling in the arbours and bushes. 
 Primrose joined in Hilda's adieus uncon- 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 167 
 
 sciously. She had at first intended to go 
 with Mr. Alexander and Hilda to the con- 
 vent, but now that the child was reconciled 
 to the separation, she did not have the 
 courage for the journey, during which she 
 must assume a delight she could not feel. 
 But though she was to remain behind, she 
 was, in reality, taking leave of all these 
 creatures of her fancy with Hilda. Her 
 heart was now with the child and could 
 never again be satisfied with shadows. 
 
 " Good-by, good-by," said Hilda to all the 
 garden. " Good-by," whispered Primrose to 
 the phantoms. 
 
 " You will talk to my rose vines, Primrose, 
 and not let them be lonesome ? " 
 
 " I will talk to them of you every day. 
 When you come back they will be covered 
 with blooms. I will send you the first bud." 
 
 "Will that be long?" 
 
 "Only a little while. You will be here 
 again before we know it." 
 
 But Primrose knew that the Hilda who 
 looked back at her with tearful eyes, and 
 who threw her kisses as long as the carriage 
 was in sight, would never return. A multi- 
 tude of strangers strange winds and land- 
 
1 68 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 scapes, strange hopes and sorrows, strange 
 people and desires would come between 
 them in a year. 
 
 The soul is like an inn on the highway 
 and may be leased and transformed by a 
 lodger of a night. And yet there are places 
 here and there where an old guest, return- 
 ing, finds the chamber he once occupied still 
 known by his name. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A RIDE of a day and a night brought Mr. 
 Alexander and Hilda to New York. Hilda 
 had found a little girl about her own age on 
 the train with whom she soon established 
 visiting relations. Edna was an only child 
 and possessed something of the premature 
 gravity of those whose first six years are 
 spent entirely with grown folks. She had 
 been a year in school, however, and had 
 become a profound scholar in the eyes of 
 Hilda. She could already read everything 
 in a number of gayly coloured books she pro- 
 duced from her own portmanteau, and very 
 graciously read the stories that accompanied 
 the pictures most pleasing to Hilda. Then 
 she had travelled in trains before and had no 
 fear of walking up and down the long car. 
 She could help herself to water from the lit- 
 tle tank at one end, and taught Hilda how 
 to press down the lever and hold her cup 
 under properly. This they did often during 
 
 169 
 
170 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 the day. She also knew how to count the 
 telegraph poles. She had learned a number 
 of songs at school and taught them all to 
 Hilda, who picked them up as readily as a 
 bird does the lay of its tribe. They sang, 
 and sang, and swung their legs and sang, 
 oblivious of their smiling audience. Edna's 
 mamma was a beautiful woman ; beautiful in 
 the eyes of Hilda and Mr. Alexander, of the 
 Pullman conductor, of the old lady across the 
 aisle, and the drummer, who, wishing to look 
 at her now and then, took a place on a vacant 
 seat behind her where she would not notice 
 it. That is to say, she was lovely in both 
 soul and body. There were times when 
 Hilda was content to just sit quietly near 
 and gaze adoringly into her face. The chil- 
 dren were very fair with each other and 
 played hostess or guest in turn. 
 
 Mr. Alexander scarcely heeded their com- 
 ing or going. He was glad that Hilda was 
 happy with her little friend ; but this journey, 
 which bore her toward the future, was taking 
 him as swiftly into the past. In a few hours 
 he would be again in the presence of his 
 youth ; he would touch the hand and look 
 into the eyes of the girl he had always loved. 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 171 
 
 He had never seen Mother Pelagia and had 
 no conception of her, but his Betty was 
 always before his eyes. He had forgotten 
 her wilful and imperious ways, and remem- 
 bered only those times when she had loved 
 him tenderly and without reserve. The ful- 
 filment of his dreams of her was, in part, 
 suggested by Edna's mamma, for in her he 
 could fancy the maturity of Betty's girlish 
 beauty. When she smiled at him now and 
 then as the children sang or played, he 
 acknowledged the sign with a grave inclina- 
 tion of the head ; but it brought a melancholy 
 pleasure to his heart. Most men marry, but 
 among the few bachelors of the world are 
 the truest lovers. The man who in his 
 wooing never for a moment ceases to idealize 
 his mistress, seldom wins her. She will lean 
 from her window and listen to his song, but 
 if he would carry her off, he must take her 
 weakness for granted and possess some of 
 the wit of a brigand. 
 
 " Hilda," said the lady, " will you and your 
 Uncle Minot eat luncheon with Edna and 
 me ? There is enough for us all in our 
 basket." 
 
 " Oh, yes," cried Hilda, " I will ask him." 
 
172 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 Mr. Alexander returned with her and 
 said : " This is very kind of you, but I think 
 Hilda and I had better go to the dining- 
 
 car." 
 
 " No," she answered. " You must not be 
 so selfish." 
 
 " Would you call that selfish ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I would. You know where you 
 are going and why, and all you care for is to 
 get there as soon as possible and to miss as 
 little as you may of your usual comforts on 
 the way. Now, you may not know it, but 
 the one thing that reconciles a child to a 
 long journey is the lunch box." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right," he replied, very 
 glad to take a seat beside her. " Come to 
 think of it, the only thing I remember of my 
 first trip was the cold chicken and doughnuts 
 my mother gave me from her bag." 
 
 " Hilda tells me she is going to school at 
 a convent. I am taking Edna to Our Lady 
 of Peace." 
 
 " Are you ? Hilda goes there, too." 
 
 " Oh, Hilda ! " exclaimed Edna under her 
 breath, " did you hear that ? We will have 
 our houses close together in the nursery, and 
 perhaps Sister Cordelia will let us sleep next 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 173 
 
 to each other. You will just love Sister 
 Cordelia." 
 
 " Well," said the woman, laughing, " my 
 child's name is Edna Wilson." 
 
 " Hilda has been given my own name 
 Alexander." 
 
 " You will not be sorry you placed her 
 there. It is a beautiful convent, and the sis- 
 ters in charge of the school are just happy, 
 light-hearted children grown up. Most of 
 them entered the convent when they were 
 young girls, and they seem to think that all 
 the world is just like their own hearts. The 
 sisters who take care of the children and who 
 teach have all been selected first for their 
 lovely natures, and then taught music and 
 literature and drawing and whatever is re- 
 quired to fit them for instructors. If you wish 
 only innocence and happiness and beauty to 
 surround a child, the convent of Our Lady 
 of Peace is the place for her. Do you think 
 it is better to bring up a child ignorant of 
 misery and evil ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I do." 
 
 " I really don't believe it makes any differ- 
 ence. A man or a woman must learn to 
 choose the good, and it is as difficult to do 
 
174 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 that in one place as another. It is not the 
 beauty that is thrust upon us that counts, 
 but only what we acquire. My mother was 
 brought up in a convent and ran a-way with 
 my father two weeks after she came out. 
 But fortunately he was a good man and they 
 were happy. My aunt, her only sister, was 
 a harum-scarum girl, I am told, and yet, 
 after breaking the hearts of some score of 
 lovers, she entered the convent we are 
 now going to and has become its reverend 
 mother." 
 
 "Good heavens!" said Mr. Alexander with 
 a start, " are you the daughter of Betty's little 
 sister?" 
 
 " You don't mean," gasped Mrs. Wilson, 
 " that you are that Mr. Alexander I have 
 always heard about?" 
 
 Most of us cherish a family romance of 
 which we have heard hints and whispers. 
 Perhaps we have even caught a glimpse of 
 our end of it the uncle who has shot his 
 rival ; the aunt who eloped with a sailor who 
 was lost at sea; but it rarely comes to us to 
 meet the mysterious, the dreaded, the only- 
 to-be-mentioned-in-whispers other one that 
 figured in this old affair. 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 175 
 
 So Mrs. Wilson stared and dropped her 
 eyes, and blushed and stared again. 
 
 " The daughter of Betty's little sister," 
 murmured Mr. Alexander. But even now 
 he could not realize it. He still saw his 
 sweetheart, younger than this woman before 
 him, by ten years. 
 
 " And there are apples there so big," said 
 Edna, "and there is a squirrel out by the 
 grotto so tame that he comes and takes 
 things right out of my hand." 
 
 " Oh, does he ? Do you suppose he would 
 me, too ? " 
 
 " Of course he will," said Edna, emphati- 
 cally. " I'll just tell him to." 
 
 That night the two children slept in the 
 same berth. They went to sleep in each 
 other's arms, whispering of all they would 
 do together, and how they would love each 
 other forever and ever. 
 
 The next morning, as Hilda looked from 
 the ferry up and down the river they were 
 crossing, a strange feeling of sorrow came 
 to her. She forgot where she was going, 
 and even the presence of those about her 
 whom she knew. She seemed to be sud- 
 denly alone and far away. It was her first 
 
176 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 touch of that homesickness which steals 
 over the heart even when there is every 
 reason for content. She looked at the won- 
 derful city before her and felt that she ought 
 not to be going there alone. It was only 
 a passing feeling and she, of course, could 
 not have told the reason for it, nor who nor 
 what she missed, but it was none the less 
 significant for that. The drive through the 
 city and along the country road near the 
 river was full of excitement for both her and 
 Edna. Everything they saw was wonderful. 
 They expected to see the marvellous on every 
 hand, and it was there. They felt that they 
 were missing even more than they saw, and 
 therein lay the secret of their enchantment. 
 As soon as the country was reached, Edna 
 was sure that the convent lay just beyond 
 each bend in the road. It was not long 
 before they really reached it and turned in 
 between the great stone columns of the gate- 
 way. There was a little ivy-covered lodge 
 at the entrance that reminded Hilda for a 
 moment of Primrose and the cottage. Then 
 came a long winding gravel road, "The 
 Way of the Holy Angels," that took them 
 through a deep wood, past an open grove 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 177 
 
 in the midst of which were a group of 
 ponds, surrounding a broad knoll, where 
 stood the grotto of " Our Lady of Lourdes." 
 Presently they heard a babble of voices and 
 saw some thirty girls in a great orchard to 
 their left. Some were in the trees, and as 
 they shook the branches, heavy with fruit, 
 the apples fell in showers into the long 
 grass. A number of the smaller children 
 recognized Edna, apd shouting to her, ran 
 after the carriage, holding tight to their 
 aprons filled with spoil. A stone wall 
 skirted the right of the road, and rolling 
 away from this was a low hill that hid the 
 convent until a sharp turn brought the 
 majestic buildings suddenly into full view. 
 At the foot of a long, grassy slope was the 
 Hudson, extending as far to the north as 
 the eye could see. Across the wide river 
 rose the Palisades, where the deep green 
 of the trees was plainly mottled with the 
 colours of autumn. The meanest soul could 
 not come upon such a scene as this without 
 some emotion. Mr. Alexander stood upon 
 the porch of the convent, hat in hand, and 
 gazed around him. Just below him was a 
 terrace, at the foot of which ran " The Car- 
 
178 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 dinal's Walk." Here were marble statues 
 of the saints, with flaming beds of salvias 
 and marigolds and cannas in between. A 
 fountain, supported by marble angels, was 
 playing in the centre of the walk. The 
 great sloping lawn bore a few fine trees. 
 Summer-houses and benches were placed 
 at points where the view was good. Here 
 he saw a number of the sisters sitting, read- 
 ing, conversing, or tranquilly looking out 
 upon the river. Two of them were at the 
 farther side of the lawn, in a little grove of 
 maples, stooping now and then for a finely 
 coloured leaf. The only sounds in all that 
 vast scene were the call of the birds, the 
 voices of the children, and the water of the 
 fountain. Presently from the great clock 
 far above him, came twelve deep strokes. 
 It was noon. The Angelus was sounded, 
 and a moment after he heard from the 
 depths of the building the tinkle of smaller 
 bells. But none of these sounds seemed to 
 break the silence. They were the calm, 
 sweet voices of the Spirit dwelling there. 
 
 Mr. Alexander followed Mrs. Wilson and 
 the children into the convent. As he stood 
 in the dim corridors, before the sister who 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 179 
 
 had come to receive them, he found it 
 difficult to speak. 
 
 " I would like to see Mother Pelagia," he 
 said, handing her his card. Mrs. Wilson 
 put her hand on his arm, gently saying, " I 
 will look after the children." 
 
 " Mamma, O mamma," cried Edna, joyfully, 
 " here is Sister Cordelia." 
 
 "And who is this?" said the sister, tak- 
 ing Edna's hand and coming at once toward 
 Hilda. 
 
 "That is Hilda. And, Sister, can she 
 have her things in the nursery and her bed 
 next to mine ? And we want to sit together 
 at the table, and everything; may we, Sister?" 
 
 " But how about Polly ? " asked the sister, 
 smiling. "She came yesterday, and has 
 been just homesick for you." 
 
 " But can't Polly be next to us, too ? " 
 
 " We will try to arrange it that way. 
 Shall we go to the nursery now? All your 
 friends are there expecting you. They came 
 running in and told me you were here." 
 
 " Where is mamma ? " Edna asked, with a 
 sudden glance of apprehension about her. 
 She remembered something like this before, 
 when going with Sister Cordelia to the nur- 
 
l8o A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 sery. She had not seen her mother again 
 for almost a year. 
 
 " Where is mamma ? " she said again in 
 affright, for she did not see her. 
 
 " Here I am," came a tearful voice from 
 the shadows, and her mother came toward 
 her. 
 
 " Oh, mamma, don't leave me again ! Don't 
 go ! You won't, will you ? " 
 
 " But I must, you know. You will be very 
 happy here, Edna, and you must not cry now. 
 Don't you see that Hilda is a stranger here ? 
 She has no mamma at all. You must take 
 care of her, dear." 
 
 Hilda had been, from her first entrance, 
 affected by the silence and solemnity of this 
 shadowy and mysterious place. It was cer- 
 tainly not fear that oppressed her ; there was 
 nothing here to inspire that even in a child. 
 She had been attracted toward Sister Cor- 
 delia by her face and voice ; but she won- 
 dered at her black robes, the girdle of beads, 
 the pendent cross, and the black bonnet. 
 She glanced timidly about her and was afraid 
 she would cry. When Edna called for her 
 mamma, and then gave voice to her grief and 
 fright, she turned and ran to Mr. Alexander. 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 181 
 
 She did not speak, but took his hand and 
 pressed close beside him. 
 
 He stroked her hair, scarcely thinking of 
 her. 
 
 " Don't you think you can like me, Hilda? " 
 said Sister Cordelia. Hilda smiled at her 
 shyly and nodded. 
 
 " I think you can, too." She held out her 
 hand and said, " Will you come with me 
 now?" 
 
 Hilda looked up at Mr. Alexander. 
 
 "Yes," he said absently; "go now with the 
 sister." 
 
 Then, as he was recalled to the present 
 and the fact that she was leaving him, he 
 added tenderly : " Good-by, little one. If 
 you love me, be happy. That is all I 
 ask." 
 
 The child moved quietly away, her lips 
 trembling a little. 
 
 " See," said Mrs. Wilson, " Hilda does not 
 cry, and she has no mamma. Will you let 
 her go down to the children without you ? " 
 
 " Sister Cordelia," called Edna, plaintively, 
 " please wait for me. I am coming, Sister. 
 Oh, Hilda," she said between her half-stifled 
 sobs, "we must not cry; must we, Sister? " 
 
1 82 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 "I don't want to," said Hilda; but the 
 effort to speak seemed to loose her tears, 
 and the two children, each holding a hand of 
 the sister, passed down the steps to the base- 
 ment, their faces wet even as they protested 
 that they must not cry. 
 
 So they came to the door of the nursery. 
 Hilda stopped short in the midst of a sob 
 and opened her eyes in wonder that quickly 
 changed to joy. Never had she seen such a 
 sight before. No chamber in the ogre's pal- 
 ace had held such delights. Before her was 
 a little room filled with sunlight, that came 
 through two windows reaching from floor to 
 ceiling, and looking out upon a green hill- 
 side. Along the walls were ranged two rows 
 of boxes, which she could see at a glance 
 were houses furnished with wonderful com- 
 pleteness and elegance. Most of these houses 
 were empty now, for the inhabitants and most 
 of the movable furniture were in the middle 
 of the floor. There were twelve little rock- 
 ing chairs, with a doll in each. There were 
 dolls sitting propped against tables, and dolls 
 stretched out on the floor. There were great 
 fat dolls with blooming faces and masses of 
 yellow curls, and olive-complexioned dolls 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 183 
 
 with coal-black hair. And such dresses ! The 
 whole room danced with the gleam and glint 
 from the silks and satins of crimson, blue, and 
 yellow. Here was a little sewing machine, 
 and there a wardrobe with its doors open, 
 revealing skirts and underskirts, waists and 
 hats and cloaks and jackets. Here was a 
 wonderful dwelling house, the palace of a 
 princess, five stories high, with doors and 
 windows and cupolas, and there a spinning- 
 wheel and reel. These, and numberless other 
 marvels, such as tables set for tea, and a 
 washing on a line, and writing desks, and 
 flat-irons, and quilting frames, were what 
 she saw, not, of course, as I have named 
 them, in detail, but as a grand and bewilder- 
 ing whole, the view one would get of it in a 
 single glance. For as soon as they appeared 
 in the doorway, they were greeted by Polly 
 and Edith and Maggie and Rose and Susie 
 and Nellie and May. 
 
 They gathered about Edna with eager 
 questions, and received Hilda into their 
 midst without reserve. 
 
 Polly was jealous for one brief moment, 
 but it could not last. She agreed at once 
 that Hilda should have her place on the 
 
1 84 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 other side of Edna, and should be in all 
 things their sworn friend and abetter. 
 
 " But you will let me show her the oratory, 
 won't you ? " said Nellie. " And I want the 
 chapel," said Edith. " I will take her to St. 
 Thomas's Circle," said Susie. " Can I have 
 the grotto ? " asked Rose. " Come on," cried 
 Maggie, " let's all take her out to the orchard. 
 The big girls will get all the apples." 
 
 A chorus of assent greeted this proposition, 
 and the suggestion at the end of it acted as 
 a whip. Sister Cordelia saw them scamper 
 away, almost forgetting Hilda in their eager- 
 ness, and marvelled for the thousandth time 
 at the innocence and shrewdness, the affec- 
 tion and thoughtlessness, of children. 
 
 As Mr. Alexander waited in a little room 
 decorated in blue and gold and lighted by a 
 window overlooking the lawns, he heard a 
 faint, sweet melody. A sister was playing 
 a hymn on the great organ in the chapel, and 
 the strains, passing through the thick walls 
 and along the high corridors, came to him 
 like the purified music we sometimes hear 
 in dreams. As he waited and listened, he 
 saw a slender, black-robed figure coming 
 quickly toward him through the dark corri- 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 185 
 
 dor. He knew it was a nun and his heart 
 stood still, for it might be Betty. When she 
 entered the bright room and stood before 
 him, however, he saw a little old lady with 
 white hair showing beneath her quaint bon- 
 net. He bowed gravely and looked away. 
 
 " My friend," said the nun, softly, " did you 
 wish to see Mother Pelagia ? I am she." 
 
 He started, stood up, stared for a moment 
 into the wrinkled, faded face before him, and, 
 dropping his eyes, said not a word. She 
 stood quietly watching him, a twinkle in her 
 own eyes, still bright and penetrating. 
 
 " Well," she said presently, " are you sorry 
 you came ? " 
 
 He looked at her now and smiled. 
 
 " No," he said slowly ; " but I was sur- 
 prised." 
 
 " I told you she was dead, but you would 
 not believe me. You have been for forty 
 years faithful to the memory of a " 
 
 " Don't speak unkindly of her," he inter- 
 rupted. " She is not dead. When I die you 
 may say a mass for her soul and speak of her 
 as you wish. Until then I will protect her." 
 
 " Dear friend, I never close a prayer with- 
 out a thought of you. When we meet in 
 
1 86 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 paradise, if I can there believe myself to be 
 as good and beautiful as you think Betty, I 
 will ask God to allow me to love and honour 
 you above all the angels." 
 
 There was something very sweet and 
 almost pathetic in her face as she bade him 
 good-by, and there was also a suggestion of 
 a twinkle in her eyes. He felt again the 
 old restlessness and uncertainty when in her 
 presence, but he would not recognize the 
 fact. He was still bewildered by the shock 
 he had received when she first appeared, and 
 was really relieved when she called Mrs. Wil- 
 son in and left them alone together. 
 
 " My aunt is a wonderful woman," said she. 
 " Her step is as brisk and her eye as clear as 
 a girl's. She is clever, too any one can see 
 that." 
 
 A sister entered and took them to a room 
 overlooking the fountain. A table near the 
 window was spread with a luncheon of milk 
 and bread and fruit. He scarcely ate, but 
 sat idly gazing over the lawn beneath him, 
 or up the river to where the Palisades formed 
 a bold headland, whose noble outline was 
 softened by a purple mist. It was as sub- 
 lime and beautiful a picture as the world has 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 187 
 
 to offer. It lessened his sorrow, but increased 
 his melancholy. He sighed and looked away. 
 
 " If you are ready," he said to Mrs. Wilson, 
 " we will go." 
 
 " But you only saw her for a moment," she 
 exclaimed. " Won't she return ? " 
 
 " I think not," he replied. " Let us go." 
 
 It had been but a moment, and yet, during 
 it, he had seen the passing of forty years. 
 He bent a little as he walked to the carriage. 
 It was the first time in his life ; but he real- 
 ized now, for the first time, that he was really 
 old. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THESE were the days before the spirit of 
 Froebel had been reincarnated into the body 
 of the schools. The world's children were 
 still being driven in herds along the beaten 
 paths of fact, the dust from which only 
 choked them and made their eyes smart. 
 Here and there, however, were child-herds 
 who, prompted as much by compassion as 
 wisdom, let down the bars or led their droves 
 over the fences into the fields, allowing them 
 to gather the flowers and the fruit of knowl- 
 edge at first hand. 
 
 Sister Cordelia was one of these. Every 
 evening, the children, after their glass of milk, 
 went to the nursery, and, rocking in their 
 chairs, put their babies to sleep, singing the 
 songs the sister had taught them. Then, 
 kneeling at their chairs and facing a little 
 image of the Holy Child, robed in turquoise 
 blue with gold braid, they said their Hail 
 Marys. 
 
 188 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 189 
 
 The beauty of this graceful image, the 
 tender innocence of the thoughtful face, was, 
 in itself, worthy of their devotions. Every 
 moment they spent looking upon it with af- 
 fection and desire was something gained. 
 
 " And now," Sister Cordelia would say, 
 " we will finish all our letters and get them 
 ready to post." 
 
 From every child's pocket would come a 
 pencil and pad on which had been scrawled 
 or printed, from time to time through the day, 
 whatever had come to them, or had been sug- 
 gested by the sister, of what they were do- 
 ing or thinking or seeing, for the daily 
 letter home. They would make as nice cop- 
 ies of these as they could, and, addressing and 
 stamping their own, drop them in a little box 
 near the door. Each child had her day to 
 be postman. She would carry the key of 
 this box, and when the real postman from the 
 city rode in on his horse in the morning, she 
 must unlock it and take the letters to him. 
 In this way they were taught to write. 
 
 Hilda suffered terribly at first because she 
 was the only one of her playmates who 
 could not. 
 
 "But," said Sister Cordelia, "just think, 
 
190 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 Hilda, how nice it will be for us all to teach 
 you." 
 
 The sister made so much of this that the 
 children came to look upon it as the rarest 
 of their pleasures. Edna was inclined to 
 claim it as her special privilege at first, but 
 the sister showed her how selfish this would 
 be. 
 
 " But," she added, " until she learns, you 
 may write her letters for her." 
 
 So Edna carried two pads in her pocket, 
 and Hilda's need made her the most popular 
 of all the children there. 
 
 When the letters were dropped in the box, 
 Sister Cordelia waited for the last good night 
 of the doting parents to their babes, and took 
 them off to bed. They stopped on the third 
 floor and entered the children's oratory, a 
 long, narrow room in white and pale blue, 
 with windows of glass stained in light tints. 
 The walls were decorated by vines of trail- 
 ing arbutus in bloom, exquisitely painted by 
 some of the older girls of the school, whose 
 names were graven in silver on a tablet just 
 opposite the door. At one end was a white 
 marble shrine to the Virgin, where a slender 
 sanctuary lamp was always burning, and 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 191 
 
 potted plants were in flower. Here the chil- 
 dren knelt, if they desired, and offered any 
 special request or prayer of their own they 
 wished to make. 
 
 Now, as the weeks passed, there came a 
 change in the relations of Hilda and Edna. 
 They were always together, sometimes even 
 wandering a little way from the others to sit 
 alone in the grotto or under a tree on the 
 lawn or a bench in a summer-house. Sister 
 Cordelia noticed that at these times Edna 
 would usually produce the two pads, and she 
 was pleased to see their heads close together, 
 thinking them busy as they should be. 
 
 Little by little, however, Edna began to 
 reveal signs of unhappiness. Sometimes she 
 would jump up from her seat abruptly and 
 walk away, leaving Hilda to follow her, very 
 much perplexed by her behaviour. One day 
 Edna left her in the grotto, and, hurrying 
 away into the woods, threw herself on the 
 ground. Hilda followed her slowly, carrying 
 the pads she had thrown from her angrily. 
 
 " Go away!" cried Edna, passionately. " I 
 don't want you to come near me. Go away ! " 
 
 Hilda turned about with a cry of distress 
 and ran sobbing as fast as she could to the 
 
1 92 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 orchard where, hidden in the long grass, she 
 thought she could lie and weep unseen. 
 
 " Oh, why does she do it ? " she moaned. 
 " O dear ! O dear ! what have I done ? " 
 
 " Come, Hilda," said Sister Cordelia, bend- 
 ing over her, " will you tell me what it is ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know what it is. Edna don't 
 like me any more." 
 
 The sister helped her up and dried her 
 eyes and comforted her with the assurance 
 that everybody there loved her very much. 
 
 " Maybe Edna is sick," she added. " Will 
 you not cry any more and let me go and 
 see?" 
 
 " Oh, Sister," said Hilda, anxiously, " please 
 go quick. I don't want her to be there all 
 alone." 
 
 The sister found Edna still stretched on 
 the ground. 
 
 " Dear Edna," said she very gently, " are 
 you unhappy ? " 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 " Are you sick ? " she asked, really fright- 
 ened now and stepping quickly toward her. 
 
 " No," said Edna, sitting up, for she did 
 not want to be touched. 
 
 " You have made Hilda miserable." 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 193 
 
 Edna looked stubbornly upon the ground 
 and said nothing. 
 
 " I am very sorry," said the sister, and the 
 anxiety that she really felt trembled in her 
 voice. " Don't you care any more to become 
 a child of Mary ? " 
 
 Edna did not move or speak, but a look 
 of sudden distress and alarm passed over 
 her face. The little breast began to pain 
 her, and she unconsciously pressed it with her 
 hands. 
 
 " Sister," she said presently, with a choking 
 voice, " I wish I could be good." 
 
 " Come, then, let us go and find Hilda." 
 
 All that afternoon Edna seemed to be on 
 the point of weeping. She sat quietly among 
 the children, but took no part in their play. 
 For some days she had not entered the ora- 
 tory, but had stood gloomily outside while 
 the others were there. This had caused Sis- 
 ter Cordelia a good deal of distress, but she 
 knew it was better not to question her, if it 
 was possible to solve this problem without. 
 
 This evening, however, Edna entered and 
 went quickly to the shrine. She knelt down, 
 hid her face in her hands, crying bitterly. 
 The children looked at her and forgot their 
 
194 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 own prayers. Hilda began to cry uncon- 
 sciously. Sister Cordelia could not endure 
 such a sight and do nothing. She knelt 
 by Edna, and, putting her arms about her, 
 said : 
 
 " Please tell me, too. Dear little girl, won't 
 you tell me? Perhaps I can help you to 
 understand what the Virgin is saying." 
 
 " Oh, Sister," sobbed the child, " I have 
 been angry at Hilda because she always 
 thinks of the nicest things for her letters, 
 and O dear O dear yesterday I 
 could not help it I sent hers to my mamma 
 and mine to Primrose." 
 
 All this was said brokenly and in the keen- 
 est anguish. The children listened aghast at 
 this strange confession. Before it was fin- 
 ished, Hilda was on her feet. 
 
 " Oh, Edna," she wailed, " I didn't know. 
 Indeed, I didn't. I will never, never do it 
 again," and running to her friend she fell into 
 her arms. 
 
 That night they received permission to 
 sleep in the same bed. When they awoke, 
 it was to a warmer and sweeter friendship 
 than before. 
 
 The letters of Hilda to Primrose, to Uncle 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 195 
 
 Minot, and to Uncle Christopher were the 
 most important of the world's documents to 
 all in the garden. Every evening as they 
 assembled on the porch or in the summer- 
 house, or, as it grew colder, about the fire- 
 place in the cottage, the day's letter was read 
 aloud and marvelled at. 
 
 " Do you suppose she could have said 
 that ? " Mr. Mott would ask. 
 
 " Of course she did," Primrose would reply, 
 and Mr. Alexander would suggest that she 
 may have thought it, and that Sister Cordelia 
 had helped her to put it into words. Then 
 Mr. Mott would tell his story as Primrose 
 wrote it down, Mr. Alexander would send his 
 love and wishes for her happiness, and Prim- 
 rose would complete the letter with a budget 
 of news of her little friends in house and gar- 
 den. She began also to write to the child 
 of all she thought and did during the day. 
 Could these letters of Primrose and Hilda 
 some time be published with a key to them, 
 such as they possessed, the world would be 
 kept busy for a while ; for could it read, as 
 they read, it would see not merely what was 
 said, but all that a child and a woman, like 
 Hilda and Primrose, think and feel. 
 
196 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 So when the summer came and brought 
 Hilda to the garden again, it seemed to 
 Primrose that she, too, had been away and 
 was returning with her. For the first time 
 now, Hilda was restless and not altogether 
 engrossed by her surroundings. She walked 
 with Mr. Alexander or went riding with him 
 when he wished. She still delighted in the 
 stories of her Uncle Christopher and loved 
 Primrose even more dearly than before, but 
 she seemed now and then to be listening for 
 what she did not hear, and to be thinking 
 of things far away. It was an unconscious, 
 ever present hunger, not to be satisfied even 
 by the flowers. She seldom visited her rose 
 vines, although they were now in bloom, and 
 never talked to them. If she went by her- 
 self at all, it was just to walk aimlessly along 
 the gravel paths with a sense of loss filling 
 her heart. 
 
 " She misses the children," thought Prim- 
 rose. The others did not notice it. 
 
 But when Hilda was again in the convent, 
 it was not the greetings of her friends that 
 set the little moulting birds to singing in her 
 soul. It was the sound of the chapel organ 
 as she heard it while passing along the cor- 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 197 
 
 ridors. It was the tinkling of the little bells, 
 the deep tones of the clock, the mysterious 
 shadows, and, above all, the broad, stately 
 river, stretching far and far away. It was 
 not the longing to go there that lured her 
 gaze beyond the purple headland. She was 
 content just to sit with Edna, or even alone, 
 and look and feel. 
 
 Now, when she tried to write to Primrose, 
 she found a strange, new difficulty. She 
 would sit for a long time, her pad on her lap, 
 her pencil in her hand, trying in vain to find 
 some way of expressing what she wished to 
 say. She was obliged to frequently seek 
 assistance from Edna, whose imagination 
 never carried her too far from the familiar 
 shores. Primrose felt the change in her 
 letters, and it grieved her. When Hilda was 
 again home for the summer, she was quieter 
 than before. She was neither so restless nor 
 yet so much interested in her surroundings. 
 She would sit by herself in apparent listless 
 idleness, or, curled up in the summer-house, 
 now covered with vines, read by the hour. 
 She found as great a pleasure as ever in help- 
 ing Primrose with the work, and it was then 
 that something of their former intimacy re- 
 
198 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 turned. But Primrose could not be sure any 
 longer of the child's thoughts. She longed 
 to brush away the veil that was enveloping 
 her ; to catch her in her arms, and by a close 
 embrace bring her all back into her life again. 
 
 One day this was accomplished for her. 
 For one sweet and bitter hour the child's 
 soul was thrown open to her again. 
 
 They were sitting together in the summer- 
 house. She was finishing an apron that 
 Hilda had begun. The child was reading 
 near her. Now and then, as she read, a sigh 
 escaped her. Primrose saw that her cheeks 
 were flushed and heard her murmuring to 
 herself, "O dear! O dear!" She tried to 
 think of something to propose that would be 
 sufficient to take Hilda from the story. Sud- 
 denly the book fell from her hand. She 
 leaned back for a moment and closed her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Whatever is it ? " cried Primrose, hurry- 
 ing to her. 
 
 " Primrose," said Hilda, looking pitifully 
 into her face, " I had a mamma once and she 
 died. Oh, Primrose, do you think they put 
 her in the ground ? Did she suffer and suf- 
 fer, and was she very sick ? " 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 199 
 
 " Do you remember your mamma ? " asked 
 Primrose, gently sitting beside her and push- 
 ing the book under the bench with her 
 foot. 
 
 " Oh, yes, Primrose. She was more beau- 
 tiful than Edna's mamma more beautiful 
 than any one ever was. She told me she was 
 going away, just like Mary's mother told her 
 in the story. She didn't go away, Primrose, 
 she died ; and when I wasn't there, they put 
 her in the ground and came away, and she is 
 dead." 
 
 Hilda leaned against Primrose and wept 
 so long and bitterly that Primrose became 
 frightened. 
 
 " Hilda, Hilda," she said at last, " you must 
 not cry so. I can't carry you, child, and I 
 can't leave you. I will have to call your 
 Uncle Christopher." 
 
 " No no don't don't do it." 
 
 At that moment Mr. Alexander came 
 through the opening in the hedge of the 
 enclosure. 
 
 " Your Uncle Minot is coming," said Prim- 
 rose. 
 
 Hilda was still for a moment, but she could 
 not entirely control her sobs. 
 
200 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " Don't let him see," she whispered. 
 
 Primrose motioned him to go back. He 
 nodded and smiled and went away, thinking 
 there was some little trouble that would be 
 forgotten in a moment. 
 
 He saw that Hilda was passing from child- 
 hood to girlhood, and was satisfied with her. 
 She seemed in his eyes to be only a little 
 taller than before. She was the same Hilda, 
 affectionate, light-hearted, and happy. He 
 sometimes heard her singing as she worked. 
 He saw her sitting contentedly with her book, 
 and wondered at the rapidity of her progress. 
 He marvelled at all she said, and took his 
 greatest delight in gratifying her desires. 
 She liked pretty clothes and such story books 
 as she could read. These seemed to him to 
 be all that she wished for, and he gave them 
 to her with a lavish hand. 
 
 " Beautiful women are the world's finest 
 ornaments," he would say to himself. " She 
 is a happy child of nature, and she shall deck 
 herself as gayly as the flowers." 
 
 He looked forward to the time when she 
 would sit beside him, beautiful and happy, 
 and delight with him in his books, or sing to 
 him, or tell him her dreams and fancies. She 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 20 1 
 
 should then have no vain longings if he could 
 realize them for her. 
 
 He would sit in this manner and muse in 
 his room or in the club, on the cottage porch, 
 and, all the long winter evenings, by the 
 cheery fireplace with Primrose and his old 
 friend, Mott. He became more and more 
 unmindful of their presence as the image of 
 Hilda, the maiden, became more real. To 
 be sure, he sometimes called her Betty in his 
 silent talks. But that did not matter. This 
 being of his dreams, by either name, pos- 
 sessed only the virtues and beauty of both. 
 
 When Hilda, now in her sixth year of 
 school, wrote to ask him if she could take 
 her first communion, he replied : 
 
 " Do what you wish, my dear. I shall 
 never deny you anything but the privilege 
 of grief. That is something we often desire, 
 but can do without. Be happy. Have no 
 lover but your uncle, and I will agree to 
 anything you wish. Should you become a 
 nun, I will have you assigned by the arch- 
 bishop to read to me, and we will build a 
 little convent for just ourselves and Prim- 
 rose. Your Uncle Christopher shall be our 
 gardener, which, I suppose, will compel us 
 to build our convent here." 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 YEAR by year the shadow of the sun-dial 
 on the convent lawn had described a circle 
 of the hours, and the great bell in the clock 
 tower had announced their coming. 
 
 The little girls of the nursery a few years 
 before were the big girls now. That was all. 
 Hilda and Edna and Polly had finished their 
 last year in the convent. The next morning 
 they would pack their trunks. In the even- 
 ing they would drive away. They were now 
 sitting for the last time in the summer-house, 
 taking their last look on the river and lawn. 
 Here they had conned their lessons and 
 read alpud together, from Mother Goose and 
 Hans Andersen to Marcus Aurelius and 
 Byron and Shelley. Here they had talked 
 of what they read from the " O mys ! " and 
 " O dears ! " to the later " How beautiful ! " 
 " Is that so ? " and " I think." For them, as 
 for us all, the beautiful things of their books 
 were those scenes in which moved beings 
 they could love ; or were those thoughts that 
 
 202 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 203 
 
 fall like sunshine into shadowy places, or 
 that come reaching toward us like the path 
 of moonlight across the dark waters, or, 
 appearing like stars, stir the wings of the 
 soul for flight. They questioned, as do we 
 all, the things that would imprison them. 
 They thought, and thought, in the endeavour 
 to remain free and to reconcile what they 
 were told was good with what they felt to be 
 beautiful. And because, in this, the world 
 is like them its virtues are becoming more 
 divine. 
 
 " Girls," said Polly, " let's not go away. 
 We may not see each other for years per- 
 haps never. I will stay here for a week, if 
 you will." 
 
 " That would be lovely," said Edna; "just 
 lovely." 
 
 " We will do it," said Hilda, laughing and 
 putting her hand to her eyes. " I shall not 
 have to cry now for a week at least." 
 
 " There will be no school," said Polly. 
 " Just think of being here a whole week with 
 nothing we must do." 
 
 " We can finish our story now," said Hilda, 
 "and perhaps find the right conclusion for 
 that wonderful poem of ours." 
 
204 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " I wish we could," said Edna. 
 
 " Well, I don't," Polly cried gayly. " I am 
 tired of waiting in silent awe while Hilda 
 sits mooning at the 'purple headland/ and 
 you nibble your pencil and twist your hair 
 and grow red in the face. When you take 
 to literature again, I shall devote myself to 
 Father L'Amora." 
 
 " You're a mean thing ! " said Hilda. 
 
 " Well," retorted Polly, " I will take Father 
 Richter, then, and give you Father L'Amora." 
 
 "You know I didn't mean that. If you 
 would use your imagination, Polly, to some 
 purpose, you could help finish the poem*" 
 
 " Well," said Polly, with a grave air, " as I 
 understand it, your maiden is being borne 
 in a boat up the Hudson on a misty moon- 
 light night. A phantom stands silently in 
 the bow. The headland is just before them, 
 and the maiden knows that some strange 
 and wonderful thing will happen as soon as 
 they have passed it." 
 
 " Yes," said Hilda, eagerly. " That is all 
 just as* clear as it can be to me. But I 
 can't see beyond the headland. Sometimes 
 it seems that there is a city there, just rising 
 out of the water and formed of the blue mist 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 205 
 
 and white clouds; and then I think that 
 instead of the city there are beautiful green 
 islands, where the fairies live and the birds 
 stay in winter, for it is always spring on 
 these islands, and everything that grows has 
 a blossom and can sing. But I never really 
 know what is there." 
 
 " Why don't you row up and see ? " asked 
 Polly. " You could do it in a week if the 
 wind blew north." 
 
 " Polly," said Edna, " if those sisters were 
 not coming this way I would throw my book 
 at you." 
 
 Hilda, however, scarcely heard. She 
 smiled and said, " Now, Polly, you're a 
 goose," but her eyes kept their wistful look, 
 and the smile only made the melancholy of 
 the young face more mature and tender. 
 
 " Well," said Polly, " tell me this, then, and 
 I will help you, really. Who is the 
 phantom ? " 
 
 " I don't know what it is," said Hilda. " I 
 wish I did." 
 
 " I didn't ask you what it is. I know that 
 well enough." 
 
 " You do ? " asked Hilda in surprise, and 
 looking at her eagerly. " What is it ? " 
 
206 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " It's a boy," said Polly, with an emphatic 
 nod. 
 
 Hilda looked quickly away, confused. 
 
 " Why, Hilda, how you blush," said Edna. 
 " Is it really so ? Did you meet one, too, 
 last summer ? " 
 
 " Oh, Edna," exclaimed Polly, " and you 
 never told me ! Tell me about him now, and 
 I'll tell you about mine." 
 
 "Hilda's first," said Edna. "It started 
 with her." 
 
 "Yes, Hilda, own up who is the phan- 
 tom ? " 
 
 " You are wrong, Polly. I don't know 
 any boys." 
 
 " What a pity ! " 
 
 " I have scarcely ever spoken to one in my 
 life except " 
 
 " Except who ? " 
 
 " One I played with a long time ago ten 
 years." 
 
 She could not at that moment recall his 
 name. It had been years since she had 
 pronounced it. 
 
 " My children," said Mother Pelagia, who 
 had come upon them unawares, "are you 
 saying good-by to the river? I shall be 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 207 
 
 sorry to see you go. Every year my blos- 
 soms blow away and I see little of the fruit, 
 for it ripens in other hands. I hope you 
 will come back here now and then and not 
 grow up to forget us." 
 
 " But, Mother," said Polly, " we would like 
 to stay here a week longer, if we may." 
 
 " Dear Mother Pelagia," said Hilda, going 
 to her and taking her hand, " may we stay ? 
 It will be our last time together, perhaps." 
 
 " You know, my dear, that I could refuse 
 you nothing, even if I wished to. I shall, 
 however, be very happy to have you here." 
 
 She smiled on the three and turned away. 
 
 " Sister Cordelia," said she, as they con- 
 tinued their walk, " I have loved those girls 
 more than any of the others. Perhaps I 
 should not have done that, and I hope no 
 one has seen it but myself." She added a 
 moment later, as if it were an after-thought, 
 " and our Lord." 
 
 " He would not mind," said Sister Cor- 
 delia, softly. " He alone is able to love 
 every one." 
 
 " He may love us all," replied the mother, 
 smiling ; " but I fancy there are those whom 
 even He cannot admire." 
 
208 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 She looked toward a little white house 
 among the trees, the home of the chaplain, 
 Father Richter. Sister Cordelia followed 
 her glance and smiled also, for she was the 
 one person in the world with whom Mother 
 Pelagia was not always politic. 
 
 They saw Father Richter on the porch, 
 frowning over a prayer-book. 
 
 " There he sits," said the mother, " like a 
 crow in a nest more befitting a wren. He 
 certainly knows the catechism, but I wish we 
 had Father L'Amora for our chaplain, for he 
 knows our Lord as well." 
 
 "Oh, I wish that could be. Why don't 
 you speak to the Archbishop ? " 
 
 " I am getting too old for such adven- 
 tures," said the mother, a little sorrowfully 
 and then with a quaint smile, " I will soon 
 be gone and the world must learn to get 
 along without me." 
 
 The long shadows were falling across the 
 lawn. The bell in the tower sounded its 
 melodious summons over woods and groves 
 and far along the paths, calling the girls and 
 the sisters to vespers. A little procession of 
 nuns came, two by two, along the Way of the 
 Holy Angels, saying their rosaries. The 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 209 
 
 mother and Sister Cordelia, as they re- 
 turned, saw the old Monseignor Ambrose 
 hurrying along the Cardinal's Walk. He had 
 been a moment before placidly listening to 
 the birds and examining the bushes as he 
 passed them in his stroll. Now there was 
 an eager expression on his face. The kind 
 of anxiety shone there, however, that illumi- 
 nates and makes beautiful. He quickened 
 his steps, that he might not miss the first 
 notes of the organ. Seeing the sisters, he 
 removed his black skull cap and allowed 
 them to precede him. Now, as he followed 
 slowly, a little behind them, his countenance 
 became tranquil. He was in a beautiful 
 chapel of his own building, listening to the 
 melodies of ninety years. 
 
 " How can Father Richter live in the same 
 house with the monseignor," asked Sister 
 Cordelia, " and remain so austere ? " 
 
 " I do not know. I once heard the father 
 say to him, ' Some of these young girls seem 
 to have nothing to confess. What can I 
 do?' 'If I were you,' came the reply, * I 
 would pray for a continuance of their inno- 
 cence and peace.' ' In one of them espe- 
 cially,' continued the father, as if the other 
 
210 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 had not spoken, * I have never been able to 
 awaken the consciousness of sin.' 'Why 
 not leave that to the devil ? ' returned the 
 monseignor. 
 
 " I understand there has been some es- 
 trangement between them since." 
 
 The especial one to whom Father Richter 
 had referred was Polly. She had learned 
 her catechism early and had been always 
 ready to rattle through it, were the questions 
 asked in order. She was willing enough to 
 attend mass and confession. She confessed 
 if she could think of anything on the spur of 
 the moment, or failed to do so with equal 
 good grace. When she went into retreat, 
 she would try to think of holy things. She 
 would come out with a headache and say, 
 
 " It is like attempting for three days to 
 keep your mind's eye on a dot." 
 
 Upon Edna the forms and symbols of the 
 church made a deeper impression. She had 
 always felt a wondering adoration for the Vir- 
 gin and for Our Lady of Lourdes. She had 
 offered a real prayer every night at the shrine 
 in the oratory ever since the one dark time 
 when she had remained away. She never 
 romped in the grotto, nor on the island 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 211 
 
 around it, for fear of disturbing the peace of 
 the sweet-faced image within. There were 
 times when she grieved in secret over her 
 depravity, and other times when she hinted 
 to Hilda of the fears that filled her soul. 
 
 Hilda was neither altogether indifferent, 
 nor yet very deeply disturbed by such fears. 
 She was distressed by her failure to find a 
 confession ready when the time came, simply 
 because she felt that the stern father expected 
 one from her. Now and then the lines of 
 the catechism would rise like ghosts before 
 her, but like ghosts they were vague and 
 unintelligible and did not remain. When 
 she was a child, the questions of the father 
 had sometimes frightened her as she knelt in 
 the dark confessional, listening to the solemn 
 voice of one unseen. She never quite out- 
 grew this feeling, and still strove when she 
 was there to find such answers as would be 
 acceptable to him. This had some effect 
 uptm her, but not a profound one. Only 
 now and then, when a sudden wave of long- 
 ing or of causeless melancholy swept through 
 her soul, would she wonder if she was indeed 
 sinful and approaching unconsciously the 
 dark waters waiting to ingulf her. 
 
212 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 In the dim light of the chapel she would 
 sometimes listen to the organ and forget it 
 in a tender, half-unconscious prayer. She 
 did not know what she felt nor what she 
 wanted. 
 
 Sometimes she would sit on the lawn alone 
 until the dark fell about her, watching the 
 far-away light, above the city, down the 
 river, half remembering, half dreaming, until, 
 awaking with a start, she would find her 
 cheeks wet with tears. On all these things 
 she was silent. She could listen to Edna 
 and feel with her ; but of her own misgivings 
 and memories she never consciously spoke. 
 
 The academy had been dismissed. A few 
 of the girls had remained. Sisters from all 
 parts of the world were returning to the con- 
 vent for the summer. Now came long re- 
 treats, seasons of meditation, frequent and 
 solemn services. 
 
 There were still a few of the sisters, not so 
 withdrawn from all earthly communion, with 
 whom the girls could walk and talk when 
 they wished. 
 
 Among these were the two whom they 
 most loved, Sister Cordelia, their former 
 angel of the nursery, but now the mother's 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 213 
 
 assistant, and Sister Melita, who gave them 
 lessons on the harp. 
 
 A few miles from the convent was a col- 
 lege and monastery. From here came the 
 priests who assisted in the special services 
 of this season. But of all those who came, 
 the most popular was Father L'Amora, the 
 poet. He was now a little past forty, but he 
 was one of those, like the monseignor, whose 
 years are not recorded. Handsome, keen, 
 and gentle, he was profoundly loved by 
 every one, from the archbishop, who al- 
 lowed him many liberties which he whim- 
 sically called poetic licenses, to the simple 
 old sisters who only appeared, when the sun 
 was warm, to bask and doze in a little garden 
 for their own use. He would often sit here 
 with them and read from a prayer-book in 
 his most soothing voice. When they slept, 
 he would bring a copy of Shelley or of Burns 
 or even a romance, such as " Don Quixote " or 
 " Carmen," from his cassock and make the 
 shift without a break to disturb them. 
 
 When he was seen entering the grounds, 
 the message flew from lip to lip, and he was 
 surrounded by the girls who ran to meet 
 him. His supply of stories never waned. 
 
214 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 He would sit in the grove for an afternoon 
 and discuss with them the sayings of the 
 philosophers, the lives of the famous or the 
 beautiful, or delve with them into the history 
 of nations. In the evening, he would sit 
 with them on the lawn and tell them stories 
 or sing them old ballads. These songs and 
 stories were so good that Father Richter dis- 
 approved of them. On one occasion, he had 
 complained to the archbishop after notifying 
 L'Amora of his purpose. 
 
 " He recounts to our young ladies," wrote 
 the father, "alluring romances of earthly 
 love, and I can see by their flushed faces as 
 they listen that their sinful hearts are in- 
 flamed." 
 
 This letter brought an invitation to L'Am- 
 ora to meet the archbishop at the convent. 
 
 " I am coming," wrote his reverence, "to 
 hear one of your stories, and I hope, as the 
 ride is quite long, that you will find some- 
 thing alluring for the occasion." 
 
 Something had prevented the coming of 
 the archbishop at that time, but now he 
 made a visitation to the convent and sent 
 word to L'Amora. 
 
 No one, of course, but the three most 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 215 
 
 interested, knew anything of the complaint 
 or of the archbishop's reply. 
 
 " Now," said he, as he took Father Rich- 
 ter's arm, and walked from among the trees 
 toward the seats arranged for the little com- 
 pany on the lawn, "we will listen and decide." 
 
 u How the leaves shine in the moonlight," 
 murmured Monseignor Ambrose, who walked 
 at the bishop's left. 
 
 "Ambrose," asked his reverence, "how do 
 you find these romances of L'Amora ? " 
 
 "Very pleasing," he replied, innocent of 
 the frown on Father Richter's face. 
 
 " Father Richter," asked the bishop, anx- 
 iously, " are you afraid our young brother 
 will modify his story on my account ? " 
 
 " Understanding, as he does," came the 
 grave reply, " that it is to be told as a trial 
 before your reverence, he will not. He is 
 an honourable brother." 
 
 His reverence looked relieved. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 "OH, girls," cried Hilda, as they met in 
 the corridor after vespers, " Father L'Amora 
 is to tell a story on the lawn, and the arch- 
 bishop is to be there. Sister Melita just told 
 me. She has sent for the gardener to carry 
 her harp outside." 
 
 " I am sorry the bishop is here," pouted 
 Polly, "for now I can't hold Father L'Amora's 
 hand." 
 
 " Why," said Hilda, " have you an engage- 
 ment with the bishop ? " 
 
 " Good heavens, girls," said Edna, " some 
 one will hear us ! Let's dress." 
 
 " I wish we had our ball gowns here," said 
 Polly. " You and Edna have such beautiful 
 shoulders I just love to look at them. We 
 might cut our muslins low for to-night. 
 Shall I get the shears?" 
 
 As the little company assembled, the three 
 girls came hand in hand down the walk, out 
 from the shadows of the convent and the 
 
 216 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 217 
 
 trees and across the lawn in the moonlight, 
 like three rosy-cheeked ghosts. They seated 
 themselves on the ground by Father L'Am- 
 ora. Sister Melita touched the strings of the 
 harp. The girls whispered together a mo- 
 ment, and then to Sister Cordelia, and run- 
 ning to a syringa bush near by, picked 
 enough of the flowering stems for two 
 wreaths, one of which they placed on the 
 head of Father L'Amora. They removed 
 the black bonnet, and with the other crowned 
 Sister Melita. 
 
 " How young she looks," they whispered, 
 " and how sweet ! " 
 
 Now the harp and the fountain and the 
 breeze formed a trio. When it ceased, 
 Father L'Amora said : 
 
 " The story I will tell you was written by 
 me a long time ago when I was curate at the 
 Church of Our Lady, in a little village on the 
 Maumee. I can vouch for the truth of this 
 tale because I used to sit in the twilight on 
 the banks of the river, and, while I could see 
 them distinctly from where I sat, I never got 
 close enough to the people or happenings I 
 describe to discredit them. I have memo- 
 rized portions of this story, and will trust to 
 
2l8 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 these young ladies, as I have often before, to 
 help me safely over the spaces in between. 
 You will see, your reverence, how their eyes 
 become like stars to guide me if I stumble." 
 Polly patted his hand. The bishop smiled 
 benignly, and Father L'Amora began his 
 
 story. 
 
 * # * * * * 
 
 Little Pierre was the adopted son of an 
 old fisherman, who, with his pretty young 
 wife, lived on an island, as fair a farm of a 
 hundred acres as the eye of a contented pro- 
 prietor ever found delight in. It belonged 
 to Jean Pilliod, who, because the father of 
 Pierre was a countryman, had allowed him 
 to take possession of a sheltered corner. 
 Pierre Prevost, the elder, wept at the gen- 
 erosity of his benefactor, and his young wife 
 kissed the rough and wrinkled hands of Jean 
 Pilliod. But Jean Pilliod was very old and 
 his hair was so white that even Pierre Pre- 
 vost, who was past sixty, looked young beside 
 him. 
 
 The old fisherman and his pretty wife and 
 little Pierre worked very hard until a cabin 
 was built near a clump of willow trees close 
 by the water. Then Jean Pilliod gave them 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 219 
 
 a reel, and two good nets, and lumber for a 
 broad fishing-boat But even after all this 
 generosity, it went very hard with the little 
 family. 
 
 Often during the day the pretty wife of 
 the old fisherman would stand in the door- 
 way of the cabin and look wistfully toward 
 the distant city, wishing in her vain little 
 heart for a palace and a park. 
 
 " If I could have forty brocaded gowns 
 every morning to choose from," she would 
 say, " and could drive out in a mahogany 
 brougham with a coachman in a green velvet 
 coat and white breeches, I would look very 
 charming." 
 
 Then she would shift her apron so as to 
 conceal the soiled places in her faded ging- 
 ham, and return to her housework. 
 
 Pierre Prevost was a patient-looking old 
 fisherman, and you would never have sus- 
 pected that many curious dreams kept him 
 company. He would often also look away 
 toward the distant city, the steeples and tall 
 buildings of which could just be discerned 
 down the river, and in his heart he would 
 say: 
 
 " If only I could once catch a netful of 
 
220 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 golden fish, with eyes of opal and diamond- 
 studded gills, I would sit every morning, in a 
 purple dressing-gown and morocco slippers, 
 with nothing in the world to think of but 
 how to pass a pleasant day." 
 
 He would sometimes put a wishbone or a 
 buckeye into the net before casting it, and 
 if the load was heavy when he began to pull 
 it in, his hands would tremble and his eyes 
 pop out like the eyes of a mullet head. For 
 all his hoping, however, and in spite of the 
 charms he used, there was never a golden 
 fish for his catching. 
 
 But little Pierre was the most unfortunate 
 of the three, for he possessed the most sensi- 
 tive and tender heart. He seldom had any 
 time for play, and when he had, there was no 
 one to play with him. The children of the 
 neighbouring villages laughed at his shabby 
 clothes, for it was only a rough and bullying 
 disposition that could pass mustej with them 
 in rags. So little Pierre wandered by him- 
 self when not helping his mother with the 
 housework or his father with the fishing. He, 
 too, had his dreams of the city, but they were 
 gentle and timid dreams, for which he had 
 no words. All that he ever said as he looked 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 221 
 
 toward the distant steeples was, " If only I 
 might have her for a playfellow," and this 
 singular wish he repeated over and over as 
 a good little Catholic says his prayers. 
 
 Now little Pierre was thinking, every time 
 he made this wish, of a little girl in a sky- 
 blue silk dress and bonnet, who had waved a 
 dainty white hand at him from the steamer 
 once when it passed close to his father's flat 
 fishing-boat. He had only stared at her 
 stupidly at the time, but it was not from 
 stupidity. At first he did not move, for 
 astonishment, and then he could not, for 
 despair, as the great monster with the splash- 
 ing wheels bore the beautiful princess away. 
 As the days passed, he only remembered her 
 the better. Often, after that, the passengers 
 of this pleasure steamer saw a very ragged 
 boy looking eagerly up at them from a flat 
 fishing-boat. 
 
 Old Pierre, too, found an interest in the 
 passing steamer. He would smile and nod 
 in the most friendly fashion to whomever 
 might be looking over the side. The fact 
 was, that old Pierre had for so long been in- 
 tending to purchase the steamer and sit in 
 the pilot-house with his purple dressing-gown 
 
222 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 on, when he should catch a netful of golden 
 fish, that he had grown to look upon it as 
 already his, and the people in it as his guests. 
 Now, the pretty wife of old Pierre Prevost 
 was so very pretty that whenever she went 
 into the village the young men stood in long 
 rows to watch her pass, and even the old men 
 and women, too, turned to look at her; and 
 she was so very young that all this admiration 
 made her cheeks burn with pleasure, because 
 she knew that she was pretty, and with shame 
 because she had nothing but an old ging- 
 ham dress to wear. She was, indeed, only 
 a pretty, young, and foolish little wife of an 
 old fisherman. And the fame of her beauty 
 and her youth reached even farther than the 
 villages. Now and then young men driving 
 out from the city along the river road would 
 stop opposite the island and point to the 
 cabin by the willows. Sometimes a jovial 
 party, which had partaken a little freely of 
 Mother Peppercorn's wine, would pass by 
 singing: 
 
 " There's a princess in the cabin, 
 
 Frying fish for old Pierre ; 
 Pretty princess, dressed in gingham, 
 What misfortune brought you there ? " 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 223 
 
 On more than one occasion while the old 
 fisherman was away casting his charmed 
 nets for golden shoals, some of these bold 
 fellows found their way across the island to 
 the cabin ; but those who came for mischief 
 went away to remember in silence the dainty 
 little woman in a gingham gown who had 
 received them with the innocent welcome 
 of a child and the grace of a real prin- 
 cess. But one day as she was standing in 
 the doorway, looking wistfully away toward 
 the city, she heard a musical voice by her 
 side, and, turning, she saw such a handsome 
 youth, so richly dressed, and with such a 
 fascinating air, that her cheeks were covered 
 with blushes, and her heart was filled with 
 a strange mingling of delight and fear. 
 
 " I think you must have been wishing for 
 something," said the youth, with a merry 
 smile. " I saw it in your eyes ; but your 
 eyes, I am afraid, speak only French, for I 
 could not understand them." 
 
 " I was wishing," she answered, looking 
 into the face of the youth with an irresisti- 
 ble frankness, " that I might have forty 
 brocaded gowns every morning to choose 
 from, and a mahogany brougham with a 
 
224 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 coachman in a green velvet coat and white 
 breeches." She perched her head to one 
 side and looked at him as much as to say, 
 " Would I not be very charming then ? " 
 
 " Now that," replied the youth, more seri- 
 ously, but smiling still, " is a strange wish 
 for the wife of old Pierre Prevost, the 
 fisherman." 
 
 " Yes, yes," she assented in confusion ; " it 
 is all very strange." 
 
 " Now tell me," said the youth, persistently, 
 " do you love the old fisherman, or is it true, 
 as I have heard, that you are a princess 
 under a spell, and that Pierre Prevost is 
 your ogre ? " 
 
 Again her cheeks dimpled with laughter 
 because the gentle dreamer, her old Pierre 
 Prevost, had been thought an ogre. 
 
 " Why, I can hardly remember when he 
 was not my husband." She tried to think. 
 "No, I cannot remember it was a long 
 time ago, in France." 
 
 " But you," said the youth, " cannot be 
 more than sixteen, and little Pierre is ten, 
 at the least; now your good man is sixty 
 or more, and you cannot remember when 
 you married him ! It is, indeed, very mys- 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 225 
 
 terious, and I more than half believe it is 
 all the work of witchcraft." 
 
 While the wife of the old fisherman was 
 still laughing at the youth's bewilderment, 
 as a little girl might make merry at a tor- 
 mented playfellow, old Jean Pilliod came 
 suddenly between them. He turned his 
 head with its heavy covering of white hair 
 from side to side slowly, looking now at 
 one and now at the other, and his bright 
 little eyes sparkled like stars beneath his 
 heavy white brow. Taking the youth away 
 with him, he pointed to the rich fields of 
 his island farm and said : 
 
 "You have travelled over the world, my 
 son, and have seen better land than this,'* 
 but there was that in his eyes to contradict 
 his own words. The youth replied, 
 
 " My father, I have been in most coun- 
 tries and have seen many good fields and 
 many beautiful women; I have talked with 
 wise men, also ; but with these three things 
 this island of yours is blessed beyond all 
 other places." 
 
 " The wheat grows well here, it is true, and 
 now that we are at the door of my cellar, you 
 shall judge of the wine for yourself." 
 
226 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 The youth sighed. 
 
 The old man turned to him and said, 
 
 " Richard, I have known you since you 
 came into the world; and long before that 
 time your father, who was a just man, tasted 
 of the very juice you shall drink this day." 
 He took the youth gently by the arm and 
 added : " And if I live I shall some day say 
 as much to a son of yours. Come, when we 
 are young every tree is full of sweet fruit ; but 
 as we grow older we learn to avoid that which 
 is forbidden." 
 
 They entered the cellar, and Jean Pilliod, 
 pointing to the long rows of barrels and 
 shelves of bottles covered with mould, 
 said : 
 
 " It is all good, honest wine. If you drink 
 with me, I shall be satisfied." 
 
 "Then I cannot drink," said the youth, 
 quickly. He looked into the eyes of the old 
 man, and continued : " This is not the first 
 time I have seen her. I have lived in the 
 village there for a month, my father, only 
 that I might see her as she came and went. 
 And tell me, do you think that she will be 
 always happy in a fish shanty, by the river- 
 side, with the affection only of a foolish old 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 227 
 
 grandfather? She is not even now con- 
 tented, but every day looks wistfully toward 
 the city. She dreams of possessions that 
 can never come to her as the wife of an 
 old fisherman ; -and do you think it pos- 
 sible for Pierre Prevost to love her as I 
 do?" 
 
 Even Jean Pilliod could find nothing to 
 say to this, for he loved the youth, and he 
 knew something of the dreams of the young 
 wife, and more than this, for he had often 
 laughed at the foolish ambitions of the old 
 fisherman. But he shook his head sadly, 
 locked the door of his wine cellar, and 
 walked away from the youth in silence, for 
 this was his duty. 
 
 That evening, as usual, while old Pierre 
 was mending his nets and packing the day's 
 fishing for the market, the boy and his child- 
 mother sat near him by the river. 
 
 " Little Mother Madeleine," said the boy, 
 " tell us a story about the fairies and a 
 princess." 
 
 '* I was just now thinking of one," answered 
 Madeleine. Old Pierre nodded and smiled, 
 and looked at his wife with an expression of 
 childish delight Just then the wind rustled 
 
228 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 the leaves of the willows as a prelude, and 
 Madeleine began : 
 
 " A long time ago there was a very gentle 
 ogre who lived by the sea, and the only 
 sorrow that he knew was that, while in his 
 heart he cherished only a desire to be good 
 and kind, he was for some unaccountable 
 reason an ogre. But an ogre he was ; and 
 accordingly, one day, he cast a spell about a 
 beautiful princess and carried her off to his 
 great stone castle by the sea. 
 
 " Now the ogre was so sorry for the prin- 
 cess that he wove his spell of dew from the 
 cups of May blossoms, and for a long time 
 the princess moved about him as one in a 
 light and peaceful sleep. The things around 
 her assumed magical shapes, and what would 
 otherwise have been a very hard lot was 
 almost a delight, for she neither felt nor 
 thought, but dreamed. Sometimes she would 
 realize where she was and wonder at it ; but 
 then another dream would come, and her 
 doubts would vanish in a sigh. 
 
 " One day the ogre cast his nets into the 
 sea as usual and sat on a stone near by until 
 evening, singing : 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 229 
 
 " ' Come, fishes, come, fishes, with long and sharp fins, 
 My pretty young mistress must have some new pins ; 
 She needs them to fasten her twenty pink bows 
 Upon her green teagown in two zigzag rows; 
 I've baited my meshes with barley for you, 
 So come along quickly, whatever you do.' 
 
 " All day the ogre sat upon the rock sing- 
 ing, and at sunset he hauled in his net. 
 From the weight he fancied he must have 
 caught all the fishes of the sea, but when 
 his haul was safe on shore, imagine his sur- 
 prise to find but one, and that no larger 
 than a perch. He was about to throw it 
 into the water when he noticed that it was 
 a very curious fish. Its eyes were human 
 and of a beautiful brown; its fins were like 
 little hands, and its scales " 
 
 " Its scales," interrupted the old man, who 
 was listening in the most intense excitement, 
 " were of pure gold. Come, Madeleine, was 
 it not a fish of gold ? " 
 
 " Yes," she assented, with a merry nod, 
 " and its scales were of pure gold. Now, 
 when the ogre saw this, he left his nets to 
 take care of themselves and returned to the 
 castle with so great speed that he puffed like 
 a hurricane. When he entered the chamber 
 
230 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 of the enchanted princess he inadvertently 
 blew her out of the window, and after her 
 went the fish of gold. The ogre rushed to 
 the casement in a terrible fright, but, looking 
 beneath, he saw the princess resting in the 
 arms of a youth in golden armour, who was 
 fanning her back to consciousness with the 
 long yellow plume of his bonnet. 
 
 " * Is she hurt ? ' screamed the ogre. 
 
 "'She is not,' replied the knight, with a 
 savage glance upward, ' but she would have 
 broken every bone in her sweet body if I 
 had not caught her.' 
 
 " * And who are you ? ' asked the ogre, in 
 astonishment. 
 
 " ' I am Richard ' " 
 
 Here Madeleine blushed and murmured 
 in such confusion that old Pierre leaned 
 forward eagerly and said, 
 
 " What, what I did not quite hear you, 
 Madeleine." 
 
 " ' I am Richard, the Knight of the Bonnet 
 and Plume/ he replied. 
 
 " ' Oh,' said the ogre, who, though he had 
 never heard of such a knight, was too polite 
 to say so. He popped in from the window 
 and hurried down the stairs to the garden ; 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 231 
 
 but when he arrived the stranger had dis- 
 appeared, and the enchanted princess was 
 just coming to herself, seated on a bank of 
 violets with the fish of gold beside her. 
 
 " * How did I get here ? ' she inquired, 
 when her eyes were open. 
 
 " ' Oh, I just blew you down,' said the ogre, 
 anxious to make light of his awkwardness. 
 ' Did you enjoy it, my dear ? ' 
 
 " The princess looked at him in a way 
 to make forty ogres tremble, and would un- 
 doubtedly have said something very sarcastic 
 had she not suddenly noticed the gold fish 
 by her side. Then every other thing was 
 forgotten, and when the ogre told her it was 
 to her he had brought it, she jumped up from 
 the bed of violets and danced all around the 
 garden. She put the fish in a golden punch- 
 bowl filled with water and carried it to her 
 own chamber. That night, as she was comb- 
 ing her beautiful hair, she could not help 
 looking, now and then, into the punch-bowl, 
 and each time that she looked the human 
 brown eyes of the fish were upon her. If she 
 moved from one side of the room to the other, 
 the fish moved in the same direction round 
 the little circle of the bowl, until, affected by 
 
232 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 its manner, she went near it, and bending 
 over it, said : 
 
 " * Oh, fish of gold, why do you follow 
 me so constantly with your sorrowful 
 eyes ? ' 
 
 " Whereupon the fish, with one swift move- 
 ment of its tail, leaped from the bowl to the 
 floor and disappeared. In its place stood a 
 youth in golden armour, with a gay bonnet 
 and plume of gold upon his head. 
 
 " ' It is I, sweet princess,' he said, * the 
 Knight of the Bonnet and Plume. I have 
 taken this method of gaining an entrance to 
 this castle, and if you love me, we will find a 
 way to escape from the ogre who keeps you 
 here.' 
 
 "At this moment the ogre entered, and 
 was very much surprised to see the Knight 
 of the Bonnet and Plume there. But when 
 the princess had explained the situation to 
 him, and had told him that she loved the 
 knight, he said : 
 
 " ' I am sure I hope you can find a way to 
 escape, for I would like nothing better than 
 your happiness. I would never have cast a 
 spell over you at all if I had not had the mis- 
 fortune to be an ogre. I don't want to be an 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 233 
 
 ogre, and never would have been if I had had 
 anything to do about it.' 
 
 " So saying, he sat down on the edge of 
 the bed in the most dejected manner. 
 
 " ' Let us all try and think of some way to 
 escape,' said the princess. 
 
 " So she and the Knight of the Bonnet 
 and Plume sat down by the side of the ogre 
 to think. 
 
 " There they sat without moving for three 
 years and three days, when the knight 
 said, 
 
 " * If we should walk out of that door and 
 down the stairs to the garden, we could prob- 
 ably get out, if the gate is not locked.' 
 
 " * The gate is locked/ replied the ogre, 
 * with three locks ; but in each lock there is 
 a key, and if you turn the three keys the gate 
 will swing open of its own accord and there 
 will be nothing to hinder you.' 
 
 " ' Let us try it,' cried the knight. 
 
 " * We will,' said the princess. 
 
 " * May I go with you ? ' pleaded the ogre, 
 ' because I shall be lonesome here.' 
 
 " The knight and the princess consented, 
 and all three walked away to the king's pal- 
 ace, where a great wedding took place amid 
 
234 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 the rejoicing of the whole kingdom. The 
 royal parents could not lavish honours enough 
 upon the brave knight who had rescued their 
 beautiful princess from the ogre and his great 
 stone castle by the sea." 
 
 " That's a very good story, Madeleine," 
 said the old man, nodding at her* in em- 
 phatic approval. " But it was too bad to 
 have the fish of gold nothing but a man, 
 after all." 
 
 " He was a very handsome youth," sighed 
 the young wife. 
 
 " I know, I know," he answered. " He 
 must have looked very brave in his shining 
 armour and bright bonnet ; but there are not 
 many gold fish in the sea." 
 
 Old Pierre, crossing his wrinkled brown 
 hands, continued : " I have lived a long time ; 
 but though never a day passes when I forget 
 them, or a night but that I look for them, I 
 have never found a trace t>f the little people. 
 This world has been a dull world since the 
 fairies went away, and people must bear their 
 own burdens. But," he added more cheer- 
 fully, " I shall catch a netful of gold fish one 
 of these days, and then " 
 
 "And then," interrupted Madeleine; but 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 235 
 
 neither the old fisherman nor his young wife 
 finished their reflections aloud. 
 
 The next day, in the midst of a revery, 
 Madeleine looked up and saw Richard stand- 
 ing by the door. She uttered a cry of aston- 
 ishment and delight, and dropped the bread 
 she was carrying to the oven upside down on 
 the floor. 
 
 " Never mind that," said the youth, laugh- 
 ing, "but come with me. I have bought 
 you a mahogany brougham with a coachman 
 in a green velvet coat and white breeches. 
 If you will come with me, dear princess, you 
 shall have as many brocaded gowns as you 
 wish, and whatever there is in the world, be- 
 sides, to make you happy." 
 
 He held his hand toward her, and his eyes 
 were so full of entreaty that she could think 
 of nothing to say or do. As she did not 
 move, but stood smiling at him, her eyes 
 bright with desire, he went in, and, taking 
 her hand, led her to the door. 
 
 " See," he said, pointing to the distant road 
 on the river bank, "there is the mahogany 
 brougham as you have desired and the coach- 
 man, too. Will you come, dear Madeleine ? " 
 
 She looked toward the road for a moment, 
 
236 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 then drew her hand away and shook her head 
 with a sigh. But her cheeks were flushed, 
 and her eyes shone brightly under their 
 drooping lids. 
 
 " Madeleine," he said, " you need not go 
 away, but you will at least come and see 
 them." 
 
 Again she looked toward the road, and, 
 thinking there could be no harm in just see- 
 ing them, consented. The youth and Made- 
 leine left the cabin and walked together across 
 the island. They did not follow the path, 
 but found a way through the fields of tall 
 grain until they came to the water's edge. 
 Richard pushed his boat from its hiding 
 place in the bushes and assisted Madeleine 
 into it. All this while neither had spoken, 
 but their hearts were full of a great delight 
 because of each other's presence. When 
 Madeleine was seated, Richard looked into 
 her eyes and said : 
 
 " I love you and shall always, and I know 
 that you love me. So, whatever you do, even 
 if I should never see you again, I shall think 
 of you tenderly. But neither you nor I will 
 be happy again unless we are together." 
 
 Then he took the oars and rowed in silence. 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 237 
 
 When they reached the road her tears 
 vanished and her eyes grew as big as black- 
 berries, for there by her side was the most 
 marvellous brougham in the world, and a 
 coachman as gorgeous as a parrot, holding 
 the reins to four dappled horses. The door 
 stood open and she stepped in to see how it 
 looked inside. Richard said, " Shall we drive 
 a little way to see how it seems ? " and she 
 answered, " We might drive a little way, just 
 to see how it seems." 
 
 Richard seated himself by her side ; the 
 gay-coated coachman gave a loud crack of 
 his whip, and the four dappled horses started 
 off with a bound. Never before had Made- 
 leine known such delight. The seat of the 
 coach was as soft as a summer cloud, and 
 there was a yellow satin cushion filled with 
 swansdown for her feet. She looked from 
 the window and saw the world float past her, 
 a constantly changing picture of forests and 
 flowery fields. The enchantment was broken 
 as she glanced at her gingham gown, and a 
 sudden recollection of the cabin, of the old 
 fisherman, her husband, and of little Pierre 
 drove the colour from her face and the wild 
 happiness from her eyes. 
 
238 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " We must go back," she faltered. 
 
 "Very well," Richard replied, "it shall be 
 as you wish." 
 
 The four dappled horses were turned about 
 in a moment, and a little later Madeleine, 
 looking from the window of the brougham, 
 saw the island beneath her. 
 
 He did not urge her to remain, but as he 
 helped her to alight he pressed her hand and 
 looked into her eyes in such a manner that 
 no words were necessary. Madeleine patted 
 the side of the brougham and looked in 
 admiration at the gay costume of the coach- 
 man. She glanced gratefully at Richard and 
 murmured an acknowledgment of his good- 
 ness. 
 
 " Of course," she added, " you know that I 
 could not really go away with you, even if I 
 would, and that I cannot say I would when 
 it is impossible for me to do it." 
 
 " I see no good reason why you should 
 not leave the old fisherman," replied Richard, 
 "and come with me. He had no right to 
 marry you as soon as you were born, and he 
 should now take the consequences of his 
 impudence." 
 
 " I wish " She stood for a moment 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 239 
 
 with the unfinished sentence on her lips, 
 and then in silence turned toward the path 
 down the hillside to the boat. 
 
 Richard left her near the willows, saying, 
 " I will not come again for a week, but every 
 day your brougham will be waiting for you." 
 
 Madeleine watched his departure through 
 a mist of tears. 
 
 " I do love him," she told herself, while 
 trembling at the confession. " What a 
 strange thing that I should be the wife of 
 old Pierre. If he were only my father. 
 Indeed, it is only as a father that I have 
 thought of him. I did not know what love 
 was. My kind old ogre, if you could but 
 know how unhappy I am." 
 
 By nightfall she had recovered a little from 
 her despair, and when she heard the sound 
 of oars she hastened to the river, for it was a 
 welcome sound in the midst of her loneli- 
 ness. The old fisherman had brought her 
 a string of glass beads and little Pierre an 
 ancient Christmas card with a picture of two 
 shining angels upon it. 
 
 Now, as it happened, Jean Pilliod had 
 been a witness to Madeleine's adventure, 
 and it was with a troubled heart that he 
 
240 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 contemplated the possibilities of Richard's 
 wooing. 
 
 " I will have a talk with my old friend," 
 he said at the conclusion of his reflections ; 
 " for it is my opinion that a little wisdom is 
 sometimes a good thing in the world." 
 
 That evening he stood at the open door 
 of the cabin and said : 
 
 " Pierre Prevost, I think there will be a 
 strong wind to-night. If you can help me 
 get the cattle to shelter, I will help you mend 
 the nets after the next day's fishing." 
 
 The willows at that moment were caught 
 by a passing gust, and seemed in their own 
 way to join in the prophecy of the old man. 
 
 When they were some distance from the 
 house Jean Pilliod said : 
 
 " The cattle are already under shelter, but 
 it is a serious matter I have to speak with 
 you about My old friend, little Pierre is 
 your son by adoption, and Madeleine, his 
 sister, is the daughter of a woman you loved ; 
 and when that woman died, deserted by her 
 husband, she gave their two children to you, 
 Pierre as a son and Madeleine as a wife, 
 because she thought in this manner the 
 evils of her own life would be kept from 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 241 
 
 her. You have treated her as a daughter, 
 and until this time she has known no un- 
 happiness. All this is true, is it not?" 
 
 The old fisherman gave a wondering 
 assent. 
 
 " And you love her only as a daughter ? " 
 
 " That is true, also," he answered. " She 
 has been as my own child to me. But what 
 serious matter is there in all this ? " and he 
 looked anxiously at his companion. 
 
 "Surely, my good Pierre Prevost, you 
 know that when God made the heart of a 
 maiden he fashioned it of love and placed 
 the image of a youth therein. Since when 
 has one ever been satisfied with the affection 
 of a father?" 
 
 " Of what are you speaking ? " exclaimed 
 Pierre Prevost in astonishment. " It was 
 yesterday that Madeleine laughed. She has 
 been as merry as a chickadee for these ten 
 years, when the days are fine. It is only 
 bad weather that saddens her." 
 
 " That is true enough of these ten years 
 past," returned Jean Pilliod. "But there 
 will be many a fine day in the future when 
 your sweet chickadee would rather weep 
 than sing." 
 
242 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " Why," cried old Pierre, in alarm, " what 
 has happened ? " 
 
 "You have heard the woodpecker sound 
 his amorous summons on the trees in spring, 
 and the call of the robin and the thrush ; and 
 you have seen the feathered maidens of their 
 kind listen with drooping heads until some 
 voice in the forest or field awakened them to 
 love?" 
 
 " I have heard all this," answered Pierre 
 Prevost, impatiently. " But Madeleine is 
 neither a woodpecker, a robin, nor a thrush." 
 
 " And yet," returned Jean Pilliod, gravely, 
 "she has heard the voice of her lover, and 
 do you think she can hear in silence and be 
 happy again ? " 
 
 " What do you say ? " cried the old fisher- 
 man. "What lover has Madeleine that I 
 know nothing of? Has some good-for-noth- 
 ing in the village been here again ? " 
 
 "Pierre Prevost," said Jean Pilliod, angrily, 
 "are you a fool? Do you think there are 
 none but good-for-nothings in the world ? 
 And can you suppose that Madeleine would 
 find music in the voice of a blue jay ? Have 
 not all the scamps in the country and gay 
 fellows from the city been wooing her in 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 243 
 
 vain for just one look of love for a year? 
 Richard Ingovy is a bold and noble youth. 
 Madeleine could more easily prevent her 
 heart from beating than from loving him. 
 Come," he added more gently, " if yours is 
 the affection of a father, my friend Pierre, 
 this is a great blessing come upon you ; for 
 what father does not find his joy in the 
 happiness of his children ? " 
 
 Pierre Prevost was silent. Doubt, fear, 
 and a feeling of loneliness oppressed him, 
 for in the affection of the most gentle of 
 fathers there, is some selfishness. He re- 
 membered Madeleine's half-concealed melan- 
 choly, which he had scarcely noticed before. 
 Jean Pilliod had left him, and he was stand- 
 ing alone near the willows. The wind, which 
 had been rapidly rising during the conversa- 
 tion of the old men, tossed the long branches 
 above him as if in a frenzy, and an ominous 
 murmur came from the grain fields. Sud- 
 denly Pierre Prevost laughed. It was a soft 
 and musical sound which the wind whirled 
 away in an instant, but the merry light in 
 his eyes remained. He had remembered the 
 story of the kind ogre and the enchanted 
 princess, and it had a new meaning for him 
 
244 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 now. His hat blew off, and he chased it to 
 the cabin door. When he entered he found 
 Madeleine bravely at work in an almost 
 hopeless effort to mend the tattered coat of 
 little Pierre. The boy was sitting by the 
 window listening to the wind. The old man 
 looked closely at his wife, and she, lifting her 
 eyes, smiled and nodded in recognition of his 
 return. 
 
 The next day as Madeleine was alone in 
 the cabin it was only natural that her lover 
 should be constantly in her mind. In what- 
 ever direction she might attempt to go, her 
 feet always led her to the doorsill, and look 
 which way she would, it was impossible to 
 prevent a glance toward the distant roadway. 
 
 As she could not see the brougham, she 
 began to wonder if it really were there. 
 
 " Surely," she told herself, " there can be 
 no harm in going just to see." 
 
 She put on a new apron, and her bonnet 
 with white mull strings, and hurried through 
 the fields to the other side of the island. 
 
 There was the boat hidden in the bushes 
 with the oars in their places. As she could 
 see no better there than at the cabin, she 
 rowed across and ascended the path to the 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 245 
 
 road. Before her stood the mahogany 
 brougham and the coachman in his green 
 velvet coat and white breeches. 
 
 Poor Madeleine was distracted. She 
 looked at the brougham with beating heart. 
 There was no one near but the gay-coated 
 coachman, and he looked straight over his 
 horses' heads, immovable as a man of stone. 
 She tiptoed to the open door and looked in. 
 There was the yellow satin cushion of swans- 
 down for her feet, and in the very place 
 where she had been seated before was a 
 bunch of white roses. 
 
 "O dear, O dear," said Madeleine, with 
 a sob. She hurried back to the boat and 
 through the fields to the cabin without so 
 much as a glance behind. 
 
 In this manner the whole week passed. 
 Every day came a stronger temptation to 
 Madeleine, and every evening she sat with 
 her old husband and little Pierre, telling 
 stories by the river. 
 
 "It is a very easy matter," she would some- 
 times say to herself, "to make everything 
 come right in a fairy tale," but her own trou- 
 bles seemed to grow heavier, and she could 
 see no way out of them. 
 
246 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 "He will surely come to-day," she said, 
 when the week had passed, " and I shall see 
 him again. Then he will go away forever, 
 and I must try once more to find content- 
 ment here." 
 
 But she knew very well how it would be. 
 Although she desired to put on her prettiest 
 dress that morning, she did not do it, because 
 she had never worn it before except on holi- 
 days, and she was determined to be very 
 stern with herself. 
 
 But when she saw him standing by the 
 door, smiling as he had smiled when she first 
 saw him, she forgot her good resolutions and, 
 sitting in the chair nearest her, fell to weep- 
 ing. Richard came to her side and said 
 softly, 
 
 " Would you be happier if I went away ? " 
 
 " Oh, Richard," she answered, " I can 
 never be really happy again ; but it must be 
 as it is, for am I not already a wife ? " 
 
 " No," answered old Pierre from the door- 
 way. Both Richard and Madeleine were 
 very much startled, but the old fisherman 
 was beaming upon them with such a merry 
 face that they smiled in answer. 
 
 " You are a wife in name only, my sweet 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 247 
 
 Madeleine." Then he told them how she 
 and little Pierre had been given to him long 
 ago, and added, u so you see the ogre was 
 really an ogre in spite of himself; and now 
 that the prince has arrived, we will not sit 
 on the edge of a bed for three years, but pro- 
 ceed at once to a wedding." 
 
 Whereupon he rushed into the cabin and 
 caught Madeleine in his arms and kissed her 
 for the first time in his life, and handing her 
 to Richard, rushed out again. 
 
 So Madeleine and Richard were married 
 and rode away after the wedding in the ma- 
 hogany brougham. Though they pleaded 
 with the old fisherman to go with them, he 
 stoutly refused, and kept little Pierre with 
 him. 
 
 A few days later when he went to look at 
 his nets, he found them filled with gold fish. 
 " At last I have caught them ! " he cried in 
 the wildest delight, and neither Richard nor 
 Madeleine would have had him know how 
 they came there, for the world. 
 
 Every evening old Pierre sat in his purple 
 dressing gown and morocco slippers, in the 
 summer by his own cabin, where Jean Pilliod 
 would often join him, and in the winter by 
 
248 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 his fireside or the fireside of his friend. This 
 was luxury enough, for like a true philoso- 
 pher he preferred to dream of the most 
 tempting extravagances and enjoy them for- 
 ever, than to possess the reality for a mo- 
 ment. Living in this manner, he never had 
 occasion to sigh for the days of his poverty, 
 but continued to be both rich and happy. 
 Is not the possessor of dreams the most for- 
 tunate of beings ? No winds can rend the 
 countless ships of his fleet, no thieves can 
 steal, nor moths destroy his merchandise. 
 His wealth increases more rapidly than a 
 miser can compute. Neither time nor dis- 
 tance can retard his travel. No loom of 
 earth can rival his exquisite fabrics, nor Na- 
 ture herself equal the beauty of his landscape. 
 His pleasures never become a burden, for 
 there is no limit to their variety. It is only 
 by exchanging a dream for an earthly trinket 
 that we can know disappointment. Oh, 
 blessed of the earth, touch not your dreams, 
 for they are more easily broken than the 
 cobweb that glistens in the morning, and the 
 colour will vanish as from the wings of a but- 
 terfly at the touch of your hand. Oh, little 
 Pierre, little Pierre, will you some day learn 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 249 
 
 to love your princess and to leave her free? 
 Or will you, too, make captives of the heav- 
 enly messengers ? 
 
 ###### 
 
 As the last words of the story were spoken, 
 Sister Melita drew a few tender chords from 
 the harp, ceasing as the convent clock tolled 
 another hour. Now followed the De Pro- 
 fundis, and Father Richter murmured : " Out 
 of the depths have I cried unto thee, O 
 Lord. O Lord, hear my prayer." Polly, 
 forgetting the archbishop, put her cheek 
 against the hand of Father L'Amora and 
 sighed. Edna dropped her head upon the 
 shoulder of Sister Cordelia and listened to 
 the fountain. Hilda sat with her hands 
 clasped over her knee, gazing intently be- 
 fore her. Her lips moved once as she un- 
 consciously whispered " Pierre." She was 
 again hurrying with him across the island 
 in the moonlight, again peering with him 
 through the door of the hut upon the empty 
 bed. Now she was in a boat on the river; 
 but the figure in the prow was no longer a 
 phantom, it was Pierre. 
 
 " My children," said the archbishop, " may 
 your dreams by night and by day be inno- 
 
250 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 cent and sweet." With this blessing he left 
 them and returned with Father Richter to 
 the house. On the way, he said : 
 
 " We all have something of the ogre about 
 us. We would imprison ourselves and those 
 we love in the castles of our own conceits. 
 If we examine these formidable, locked doors 
 of ours with a generous eye, we will see the 
 keys therein. I pray you, my dear brother, 
 to throw open your doors." 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 " FATHER L'AMORA," said Polly, when the 
 girls and the two sisters were alone with him 
 on the lawn, " what did you mean by asking 
 Pierre if he would seek to make captive the 
 heavenly messengers ; if he would not learn 
 to love his princess and leave her free? 
 Don't you see that the princess is not free, 
 and that she would rather be Pierre's captive 
 than the ogre's, amiable as he may be ? You 
 must not forget the princess, you know." 
 
 Father L'Amora laughed. 
 
 " Do you think, my dear," he said, " that 
 the teller of a story ever knows what he 
 means? His is only the gift of speech. 
 Those who listen are his interpreters." 
 
 " I will tell you, then, what you meant," 
 said Edna. " What we love may become 
 ours, perhaps, but we do not enjoy it in the 
 I mean, our enjoyment of it is not in pos- 
 sessing it, but in the love we feel." 
 
 " I am glad," said he, " that you find so 
 251 
 
252 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 much wisdom in my story. What did you 
 say, Hilda?" 
 
 She had spoken, but so low no one heard. 
 Now she asked, hardly above a murmur, 
 
 " Did you really know Pierre ? " 
 
 " Yes, I knew him. Pierre and old Jean 
 Pilliod really lived on the island. That is, 
 these two were like my Jean and Pierre in 
 their natures, not in their outward circum- 
 stances or relations. When I wrote the story 
 I scarcely knew either of them, and did not 
 know that the one was the grandchild of the 
 other. I first met the boy in a way that 
 awakened my fancy, and I wrote the story 
 that night." 
 
 " How did you meet him ? " asked Hilda. 
 
 " I was walking toward the city from 
 Maumee one day, ten years ago. As I came 
 near the orphan asylum, about a mile from 
 the village, I met a boy just leaving the gate. 
 He was a handsome little lad, with dark hair 
 and eyes, and he was crying. As soon as he 
 saw me, he tried to conceal that fact in a 
 whistle. I managed to make friends with 
 him, and found that his name was Pierre and 
 that he lived on the island. It seems that a 
 little girl, a playmate of his, had been taken 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 253 
 
 to the asylum some time before. He had 
 not seen her since, and had run away from 
 school that day to find her. When he asked 
 for her at the door, he was told she had gone 
 away on the boat and would never come back. 
 He told all this so simply, and revealed such 
 a wistful, restless, fine little soul in the telling, 
 that I could not forget it. I went to the 
 asylum to make inquiries, and was referred 
 to the register. She had been sent with 
 some woman to Dakota. Of course that 
 was the last of her, but I used to see the 
 boy now and then. I noticed him very often 
 when the boat came up, standing on a cer- 
 tain little knoll at the north edge of the 
 island, and I fancied by the way he watched 
 it that he was thinking of this girl he had 
 lost; and, to such a boy as he, she would 
 surely be a princess." 
 
 "Did you did you see him of ten? "asked 
 Hilda. 
 
 " Not at first. But one day I heard him 
 mentioned as a bad boy a terrible little 
 runaway. He would not go to school, and 
 had been twice picked up by the police of 
 the city and sent home. There was some 
 talk of putting him in a reform school. One 
 
254 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 day I saw him on the dock at Perrysburg, 
 waiting, as I thought, for a chance to slip on 
 the boat unseen. I induced him to go with 
 me, and we had a wonderful afternoon to- 
 gether in the church. I knew by my own 
 memories how the vaulted ceiling, the coloured 
 lights from the stained windows, and the 
 music of the organ would appeal to him. I 
 played for him, and he never moved all the 
 time we were there. I went home with him 
 and talked with his people. His mother did 
 not understand him at all ; his father was 
 rather indifferent, but thought he should be 
 made to go to school and begin to work. 
 His grandfather, however, listened to me 
 with tears in his eyes when I suggested that 
 he should be allowed to stop school and 
 come to me in the afternoons. I would teach 
 him myself, and he might work with his 
 father in the morning. This was finally 
 agreed to. In this way we commenced a 
 friendship that has been very dear to me." 
 
 " Well," said Hilda, trying to speak lightly, 
 " and what happened next ? " 
 
 " You don't expect two stories in one even- 
 ing, do you ? " 
 
 " Come, girls," said Sister Cordelia, " even 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 255 
 
 our guests must go to bed some time. If 
 you would keep those pretty roses in your 
 cheeks, you must sleep early and not late. 
 You see that Hilda has already lost hers." 
 
 When Edna awoke the next morning the 
 bed on her left was empty. Hilda was not 
 there. " She has gone for an early bath," 
 she thought, and curled up for another nap. 
 
 For an hour before dawn Hilda had walked 
 the dark corridors. As soon as it began to 
 grow light, she went into the chapel, passed 
 slowly up the aisle, and stood for a long time 
 before the confessional. 
 
 " I could not do it," she said, and turned 
 away. 
 
 Now Hilda had dreamed that she was float- 
 ing with Pierre in a boat. They were lying 
 together on a bed of blossoms. The per- 
 fumes were strangely sweet. Pierre's hand 
 lay lightly upon her heart as he slept. She 
 awoke and found the hand was her own. At 
 first this had seemed to her a beautiful dream ; 
 but as she lay smiling in a half doze, certain 
 mysterious lines of the catechism and of the 
 description of the seven deadly sins came 
 now vividly before her. She seemed to hear 
 a voice saying, " Let your dreams be inno- 
 
256 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 cent and sweet," and in the voice there 
 seemed to be the sternness of rebuke. Her 
 dream had been sweet, but was it innocent ? 
 Did she know now what was meant by the 
 entertaining of unpure thoughts ? Oh, were 
 her thoughts sinful, and was she entertaining 
 them wilfully and with delight? She crept 
 from her bed, hardly knowing what she did. 
 Must she make this a matter of confession? 
 She trembled at the thought of the austere 
 voice of Father Richter. 
 
 When the convent doors were open at 
 sunrise she walked out, and taking the Way 
 of the Holy Angels, went slowly to the 
 grotto. 
 
 Now, of all the people of the convent, the 
 aged Monseignor Ambrose was the first to 
 be up in the morning. It was his delight to 
 awake with the earth ; and every sunrise, for 
 years, had found him waiting for it. This 
 morning he was walking near the grotto, and 
 saw Hilda enter. He had often talked with 
 her and her friends, and he turned his steps 
 to follow her, pleased at her early appearance. 
 He stopped suddenly under the arch of the 
 entrance and turned to go. She was kneel- 
 ing at the shrine, weeping. 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 257 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my dear," he said as 
 she looked up, startled. 
 
 On an impulse Hilda called to him. 
 
 " Oh, Monseignor Ambrose, will you help 
 me?" 
 
 The old man went to her at once and took 
 her hand. 
 
 " What is it, my child ? " 
 
 " May I confess to you ? " 
 
 " Of course you may. But I will tell you 
 at once that you have not sinned. Here, sit 
 by me on this bench and convince me. That 
 is right," he said as she smiled. " Do you 
 hear that thrush over there ? He, too, is at 
 his devotions. That is the way such as you 
 and he should confess." 
 
 " But perhaps," she faltered, " I have really 
 sinned." 
 
 He listened with closed eyes as she almost 
 whispered her dream. 
 
 " My dear," he said, " that was a very sweet 
 song. Now we will listen to the thrush 
 again, for he has not finished his." 
 
 After a while they came away, and he said 
 as they parted: 
 
 " Love all who will let you, and you may 
 find a true mate. Conform to the laws of 
 
258 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 the church in your outward life and conduct, 
 but let your soul hearken only to its spirit. 
 That is to say, love, marry, and remain virtu- 
 ous. Go to confession and to mass. Look 
 for the smiling, tender face of Truth in the 
 chapel, at the shrine, in the gardens, and in 
 the fields. Believe in the innocence of your 
 own soul, and as you do all these things you 
 need have no fear of what happiness you 
 dream or feel." 
 
 It was with a quickly beating heart that 
 Hilda saw Father L'Amora walking in the 
 grounds again that afternoon. He was on 
 his way to the old sisters, but Hilda stopped 
 him. 
 
 " May I ask you now what happened next ? 
 What became of Pierre ? " 
 
 The priest smiled kindly and said, 
 
 "Since you take so great an interest in 
 him, I will show you his picture." 
 
 He took out his watch and snapped back 
 the cover, revealing a miniature painting 
 beautifully done. It was the head of a youth 
 of twenty. 
 
 " How beautiful ! " she murmured ; " how 
 sad!" 
 
 " Yes ; it is difficult for a boy like him to 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 259 
 
 find what he seeks in the world. He goes in 
 search of a princess and is returned by the 
 police. He asks the way to a city of palaces 
 and is directed to the reform school. But, 
 my dear, we need not be so sorrowful about 
 it, for all this teaches him in time that the 
 world is in need of him. He must himself 
 bring into it what he desires. I passed a 
 few days with him not long ago, and painted 
 this miniature." 
 
 " May I look at it again ? " 
 
 He wondered at the deep colour of her 
 cheeks, at her long and tender gaze, at 
 the unconscious sigh, as closing the watch, 
 she returned it to him. But beautiful girls 
 and women were always, in his eyes, mysteri- 
 ous and holy beings, to be wondered at and 
 loved, but never questioned seriously. 
 
 Father L'Amora walked on to the old sis- 
 ters, and Hilda stood for a long time where 
 he left her, her eyes bent on the ground. 
 Then a smile, half tender and half mischiev- 
 ous, came stealing to her lips. It was her 
 
 first thought of love as a maiden. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Mr. Alexander, now in his seventieth year, 
 was more regular in his attention to business 
 
260 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 than ever in his life. It became a point of 
 honour with him to arrive at his office at the 
 stroke of nine every morning, to stand about 
 on 'Change until the last deal was closed, and 
 to sit at his desk until the accounts of the 
 day were settled. Ten years ago he would 
 have come and gone when he pleased, and, 
 if the fancy prompted, have remained away 
 for a day or a week. Now, he was afraid 
 such lapses might be attributed to his in- 
 creasing age. He would show the world 
 that he was as young as the best of them. 
 He examined the styles with his tailor as 
 gravely as before, and every day he wore a 
 fresh carnation in his button-hole. 
 
 In the afternoon he would drive through 
 the parks or stroll out to Mr. Mott's. He 
 dined every evening with Primrose and her 
 father, read the day's letter from Hilda, for 
 the old custom had not been dropped, sat 
 for an hour musing in his chair, and strolled 
 back to his club. Primrose had urged him 
 in vain to come with them to live. 
 
 " No," he would say, " an old bachelor is 
 a gr^at nuisance. Clubs and club servants 
 are made for just such. They can stand 
 the wear." 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 261 
 
 He would frequently challenge his friend 
 Mott to a ten-mile walk. 
 
 " Come," the other would reply, " make it 
 twenty." 
 
 They would start bravely forth, calling to 
 Primrose not to forget the sort of appetites 
 that belong to boys. " Primrose, remember 
 the hot biscuit ! " and " Primrose, remember 
 the peas ! " These two old friends had ar- 
 rived at that stage where they could call each 
 other's most cherished theories "stuff and 
 nonsense," without creating an estrangement. 
 
 Mr. Mott, though he thought less about it, 
 was really the sturdier of the two. His mind 
 was as alert, his eye as clear, his innocence 
 as appalling as that of a child of six. His 
 garden was the world to him, and he wished 
 that it might be his eternity as well. He 
 had selected the place for his bed under a 
 mulberry tree. 
 
 " When the frost hits me," he said to Prim- 
 rose, " put the old bulb there." 
 
 Then he seemed to think no more about it. 
 
 He was now soon to conclude the most 
 interesting of all his experiments. The sum- 
 mer before, as he and Mr. Alexander were 
 looking at the flower-beds together, and the 
 
262 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 world of bees and insects hovering over 
 them, Mr. Alexander had said, 
 
 " Where do all these bees come from ? " 
 
 " I have often wondered. If they had not 
 found me out, I should have been obliged to 
 keep a hive." 
 
 " Why so ? " 
 
 " Oh, many of these flowers would not do 
 well without them." 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! " 
 
 " You don't believe me ? Well, I tell you 
 it's so. These bees and insects have been 
 my real gardeners. I have seen that more 
 and more." 
 
 "You are not serious, Christopher?" 
 
 " More than that," his voice began to rise 
 in his eagerness, for he had never before 
 given expression to this idea, and it became 
 exciting to think of as he contended for it, 
 "more than that, I believe there are many 
 flowers that owe their propagation entirely 
 to the bees." 
 
 " Christopher," said the other, solemnly, 
 " you need a walk." 
 
 "I'll walk you," said the other. "Take 
 me up to the island where that Pogonia is. 
 I'll get me a few seeds from it." 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 263 
 
 " Have you remembered that for ten years?" 
 
 " Has it been ten years ? " 
 
 " No, but it has been nine. It was nine 
 years ago that I brought Hilda here." 
 
 During all the long walk up the river Mr. 
 Alexander was thinking of her. 
 
 " I tell you," he said aloud, " that was a good 
 experiment." 
 
 " Which one do you mean ? " 
 
 " Hilda." 
 
 " I will show you by your own plant, Minot, 
 that what I say is so." 
 
 " I have proved," continued the other, 
 " that a girl can get along without boys." 
 
 " I must have a plant, though, that buds 
 and blossoms entirely protected from the 
 bees. I would not even risk a bud. I will 
 gather the seeds and sow them and divide 
 the plants. Some of them I will grow in the 
 garden and some in my experiment house. 
 Then you will see." 
 
 So they had journeyed, each thinking of 
 his own experiments. The winter and spring 
 had passed, and the Pogonias were about to 
 bloom. Mr. Mott had often called his friend's 
 attention to those imprisoned in the experi- 
 ment house, assuring him over and over that 
 
264 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 no bee should visit them and that in ccinse- 
 quence, although they would blossom as 
 gayly as their sisters of the garden, they 
 would remain sterile. 
 
 " And the same thing will probably happen 
 with this lady-slipper, and perhaps with this 
 petunia I have grown here. These flowers 
 must all have their bees or they would 
 vanish." 
 
 One day he made a drawing of a Pogonia 
 blossom for his friend, and showed him the 
 long protruding petal which it extended for 
 its important visitor. 
 
 " The beauty of these blossoms seems 
 almost pathetic to me at times," said he ; " for 
 if they fail to allure a lover, they will have 
 bloomed in vain. I am constantly discover- 
 ing some new mission of beauty. I wish I 
 could comprehend its full significance." 
 
 He pointed out on his drawing the path 
 the bee takes into the blossom, and how, 
 just before reaching the pocket of honey, 
 he rubs against the pistil and, uncapping 
 it, allows the pollen to escape and fall upon 
 his head and back. 
 
 " This pollen he must carry with him to 
 the next blossom and give it to the waiting 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 265 
 
 stamen. So the union is made from which 
 comes new life and beauty." 
 
 Mr. Alexander would listen, only partially 
 comprehending, pleased with his old friend's 
 interests and quite willing, on the whole, to 
 accept his theories and beliefs. 
 
 As the time drew near for Hilda's return, 
 he would stand near his old friend without 
 hearing him. He would look at Primrose 
 without seeing her. He would move about 
 on 'Change, his hands behind his back, 
 unconscious of where he was. He had 
 taken no long walks this spring. If he 
 started out with Mr. Mott, he made the 
 beauty of some near-by spot the excuse to 
 go no farther. He dozed in his office chair, 
 in his rocker on the porch. Primrose now 
 and then found him in the summer-house 
 asleep. He did not go to the convent to 
 bring Hilda. 
 
 " It is not necessary now," he said, " and 
 I am needed here ; " but in his own heart 
 he grieved, for he wanted to go and knew 
 that he dared not. He would sometimes 
 shake his head and admit to himself that 
 life was almost over, but in the presence of 
 others he would sit very straight, even when 
 
266 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 he dozed. The moment his head drooped, 
 he would wake with a start and look about 
 him. Primrose, noticing this, generally sat 
 with her back to him so that he could renew 
 his nap. She did not leave him much to 
 himself, for she felt that he did not like to 
 be alone. 
 
 All this she had written to Hilda, so when 
 she came she was prepared for these changes. 
 
 " Uncle Minot," cried the girl, with a rush 
 of tenderness, as he met her at the train, 
 " Uncle Minot, I am home at last. Did you 
 miss me this long extra week very much ? 
 I will never, never leave you again." 
 
 She could not say enough. Often since 
 the memory of the asylum had been recalled 
 to her she had seen the tall, strange woman 
 from Dakota before her, and had escaped 
 from the terror she had then felt, over and 
 over. Every day some new memory of her 
 Uncle Minot, of Primrose, her Uncle Chris- 
 topher, and the garden had come to her. 
 
 Mr. Alexander tried for a moment to 
 receive her with a stately affection, the sort 
 of courteous tenderness he thought due to 
 a beautiful woman; but before he knew it 
 his arms were around her, and he was say- 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 267 
 
 ing, in a husky voice, " My little Hilda, my 
 own little one ! " 
 
 He leaned heavily on her shoulder as 
 they went to the carriage. He no longer 
 attempted to conceal his age from that 
 moment, but openly betrayed his feebleness 
 and dependence on her. He did not, how- 
 ever, forget any possible attention he might 
 pay. He never took her driving without 
 sending her a new parasol or gloves or 
 a bunch of long-stemmed roses to carry. 
 Every afternoon when he came to the 
 garden he bent over her hand and kissed 
 it. He would bring her new books and 
 listen to her read. They would sit with 
 Primrose and Mr. Mott in the evening, 
 and the longest silences were their most 
 intimate communions. 
 
 One day Mr. Alexander said : 
 " I am growing stronger again every day. 
 Perhaps by August I could take you to 
 Europe. Would you and Primrose like to 
 
 go?" 
 
 Hilda hailed this suggestion with delight. 
 Primrose saw her pleasure and sighed. 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Minot," said Hilda, " Edna and 
 Polly want to go this summer, too. I will 
 
268 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 write to them, and perhaps they can go 
 when we do." 
 
 Mr. Alexander brightened with the pleas- 
 ure it always gave him to delight her. 
 
 "Write to them at once," he said, "and 
 invite them to go with us as your guests." 
 
 "You mean yours, dear uncle. How 
 happy I shall be." 
 
 " No, Hilda," he replied, " nothing is mine. 
 All that I had is yours." 
 
 Hilda, of course, comprehended nothing in 
 this statement but the love that it revealed. 
 His voice and manner touched her deeply, 
 and the prospect of giving her friends such 
 a pleasure added to her emotion. She went 
 to him and gave him a kiss, and it was worth 
 more to him than all the wealth he had given 
 her. 
 
 But Mr. Alexander had more motives than 
 one in this trip to Europe. He had noticed 
 how every one looked at Hilda as she drove 
 with him. Beautiful she was, and she would 
 certainly be noticed wherever he might take 
 her. But here, in his own home, where 
 every one knew him, there was an added 
 cause for wonder and curiosity. Men might 
 stare, perhaps, in Paris or London or Berlin, 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 269 
 
 but they could not ask him who she was nor 
 seek to make him introduce them by riding 
 by his carriage in the park, and seeking 
 adroitly to include her in their conversation 
 with him. 
 
 Since Hilda had appeared in her maturity, 
 and the fame of her beauty and inheritance 
 had crept abroad, he had been at first aston- 
 ished and then annoyed by the multitude of 
 his friends. Women whom he had once 
 known and forgotten wrote him invitations 
 to their receptions and lawn parties, their 
 yachting trips and coach rides, always clos- 
 ing with a gracious request that he bring his 
 niece with him. And the sons of these 
 women tipped their hats to him with obtru- 
 sive politeness. They stopped him on the 
 streets and asked his advice concerning 
 investments. Mr. Nathan met him one day 
 as he was walking with Hilda, and said 
 bluntly : 
 
 " Is this your niece, Mr. Alexander ? We 
 were sorry not to see you at our little affair 
 last evening. My boy, Willie, wants to meet 
 her. You know Willie? He is with the 
 Second National. My only son, you know." 
 
 All these things worried and even fright- 
 
270 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 ened him. He began now to feel something of 
 the terror of the city that had once been Mr. 
 Mott's. It seemed to have its thousand eyes 
 on Hilda, and a thousand greedy hands were 
 reaching for her. He would take her away 
 if the trip killed him. 
 
 Now, why did Primrose sigh? Ah, that 
 was her secret, a secret she had kept for 
 almost a year. 
 
 " Primrose," said Hilda, when they were 
 alone, "you don't seem pleased at the 
 prospect." 
 
 " Don't I ? Well, now, you know I could 
 not go. What would your Uncle Chris- 
 topher do ? He would cook himself a mess 
 of tulip bulbs some day in place of onions, or, 
 worse yet, he would forget to eat at all." 
 
 " Oh, Primrose, can't you go ? " 
 
 " But never mind, Hilda. It will be a fine 
 thing for you to go. You will write to me, 
 and I shall really be there, too. Have I not 
 been through ten years of school with you ? 
 I would rather see Europe through your eyes 
 than my own. I thought "she hesitated 
 a moment, and then said carefully, " I had 
 anticipated something else ; but that will wait, 
 perhaps, till you come back." 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 271 
 
 " What was it, Primrose ? " 
 
 " Oh, just nothing but dreams. Just one 
 of the old foolish dreams, I guess." 
 
 " They were not foolish. Dear, good 
 Primrose, why do you talk so? You have 
 been so queer since I came home. I don't 
 seem to know you any more." 
 
 " Have I ? " said Primrose, anxiously. 
 " Then I won't be. Do you remember how 
 we got ready for the convent ? What a sew- 
 ing and a shopping we had ? Well, that was 
 nothing to what we must do now. You will 
 take three great trunks to Europe, and we 
 will begin at once to fill them." 
 
 That night Primrose looked from her own 
 room toward a window across the garden. 
 The shutters were closed, and what she saw 
 there to cause her to look so long, and to 
 sigh so often, it would be difficult to guess. 
 Her sleep was troubled, too. She kept 
 repeating in her dreams, " Twelve pairs of 
 stockings and two little shoes." 
 
 But Hilda did not go to Europe. In the 
 midst of all the enchanting preparations the 
 plan was ended. She had spent the day with 
 Primrose, sewing. She had gone for a walk 
 in the garden at twilight alone. When she 
 
272 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 returned, she sat like one in a stupor. Mr. 
 Alexander spoke to her without noticing the 
 change, but she did not hear him. When he 
 spoke again, she looked up, and without 
 answering him went to him, and, sitting by 
 him on the floor, said gravely: 
 
 " I don't want to go to Europe any more. 
 Dear Uncle Minot, please let me stay.'* 
 
 In spite of his fears and projects this 
 pleased him. To have her contented with 
 so little when she might have so much, to 
 have her happy just with him, her Uncle 
 Christopher, and Primrose, seemed more 
 than he had hoped for. 
 
 Primrose went up to her room and looked 
 across to the window. The blinds were open. 
 The sunlight was still upon it, the shadow of 
 the opposite buildings was just beneath. 
 
 "Oh," said Primrose, trembling with a 
 great happiness, "she has seen Pierre. She 
 has seen Pierre, and she knew him." 
 
 When she went below she found Hilda 
 reading to her Uncle Minot. She went 
 almost shyly to her and kissed her hair. 
 
 " You look so happy," said she, " I could 
 not help it. And I am happy, too, for I did 
 not want you to go." 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 273 
 
 That night Hilda was the wakeful one. 
 Primrose, when she went to her room, saw 
 a little red light in Pierre's window. She 
 placed one like it near her own, and, sitting 
 by it, looked into the enclosure. 
 
 For almost a year Primrose had known 
 for whom the rose-bush had been named. 
 On a day of the last autumn, just after Hilda 
 had returned to the convent, she was sitting 
 in her enclosure by the fountain under Hilda's 
 own maple, for the sun was hot. This tree 
 had been nine years planted, and threw a 
 comfortable shade. All that grew in this 
 enclosure seemed to know why they were 
 there, and to take a pride in the paradise they 
 formed. Plants may not understand the 
 language of those who talk to them and 
 caress them, but they as surely feel the pres- 
 ence of those who love them as do we, and 
 they respond to it in their own way, even 
 more freely. Just as an old lady's sitting 
 room comes in time to absorb her personality 
 and to breathe it, so this enclosure, in its 
 green carpet, its green hedge, its thrifty trees, 
 its flowering shrubs, its cosey summer-house 
 hidden with vines, its fountain and brook, 
 whispered and bloomed and murmured of 
 
274 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 its mistress who was here, and of its absent 
 one. Nothing here could forget Hilda, for 
 Primrose, who was the enclosure's soul, 
 thought constantly of her. 
 
 As she sat there, then, on this autumn day, 
 she seemed, as she was, the loved mistress of 
 a knowing garden, contented and at home. 
 
 Presently, she heard some one say, " Would 
 you mind if I jumped down there? " 
 
 She looked up and saw a youth of some 
 twenty years watching her from a small bal- 
 cony about fifty feet away. The blinds back 
 of this balcony had never before been open, 
 and she had long ceased to think of the 
 window and that she might sometime have 
 a neighbour. 
 
 The youth for a moment seemed like 
 an apparition. As she looked at him, he 
 said : 
 
 " Don't refuse me. I am tired and hot, and 
 you look so cool and comfortable." 
 
 Primrose smiled, for there was something 
 in his handsome, wistful face and slender 
 figure that pleaded with her more appeal- 
 ingly than anything he could have said. 
 
 " Can you do it ? " she asked, dropping her 
 book in her lap. 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 275 
 
 He laughed, and climbing over the rail of 
 the balcony, dropped lightly to the ground. 
 
 " I learned to get out of a window when I 
 was a boy," he said. " I had to." 
 
 " Do you live there ? " asked Primrose, and 
 a touch of the surprise, not unmixed with 
 dismay, she could not help feeling, sounded 
 in her voice. 
 
 " It's my studio. My little prison. I had 
 to have one somewhere, I suppose. I selected 
 this one because of your garden. Do you 
 mind ? " 
 
 She did not answer him then, but she sus- 
 pected in her heart that she did not. When, 
 a few days later, she knew his name and 
 where he came from, and that he must have 
 been a playmate of Hilda's, she no longer 
 suspected she was sure. He was the rose- 
 bush Pierre : the dream-boy of her Hilda. 
 
 She tried to question him about the island, 
 but he frowned and became restless when it 
 was mentioned. She wanted him to speak 
 of Hilda, but he did not. It required but a 
 thought backward to deepen the shadow of 
 his dark eyes, and bring there a look of fear 
 and resentment. When he could speak to 
 her of the books they read, of Father 
 
276 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 L'Amora, whom he loved, or of the things 
 he would some day see and paint, his face 
 became passionate and eager. He was 
 happy more often to stretch out on the grass 
 and be silent. 
 
 It soon became evident to Primrose that 
 she must say nothing to him of Hilda, nor 
 to Hilda of him. Mr. Alexander must not 
 notice his frequent visits. Here was a 
 romance which her hungry heart craved, but 
 must not ask for. If Hilda still remembered 
 him, she might meet him, perhaps; but it 
 must not be her doing. She never, for a 
 moment, thought they could meet and not 
 love each other. She would keep her secret 
 and wait and hope. 
 
 " Pierre," she said one day, " could you 
 think I was whimsical or absurd ? " 
 
 "You, Primrose? If I told you what I 
 think of you, you would call me very bold." 
 
 Primrose laughed and blushed. 
 
 "You are like the lover I have always 
 wanted," she said, " and I shall not tell you, 
 either, that you have come too late. There 
 is a fairy in this garden, Pierre, who can do 
 everything. Some day, perhaps, I shall come 
 to you young and beautiful, and then and 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 277 
 
 then you must really love me. Now don't 
 speak, for I mean it. You will see. But, 
 now listen. You must not come here any 
 
 more." 
 
 " I must not ? Why ? " 
 
 " Perhaps you will know that, too, some- 
 time. You must believe me, Pierre, and do 
 just what I say. Sometimes, in the evening, 
 you may come. I have thought of a way to 
 arrange it. At night this enclosure is yours 
 as much as you wish it. If you want me, 
 put a little chamber lamp with a red globe 
 at your window ; and if I see it and cannot 
 come, I will put one in mine." 
 
 Pierre was looking at her with wide eyes. 
 She smiled and said : 
 
 " It is all very mysterious, I know, but I 
 cannot help it. You have seen Mr. Alexan- 
 der? Well, he must not notice you here, 
 that is all." 
 
 During the winter and spring, Primrose 
 kept Pierre strictly to this arrangement. 
 Sometimes, when she met him in the even- 
 ing, she would remind him of the fairy and 
 the miracle she might perform, and so seri- 
 ously that Pierre, fanciful as he was, began 
 almost to expect it. He was inclined, in his 
 
278 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 sober moments, however, to suspect that Mr. 
 Alexander was the lover of Primrose, and, as 
 absurd as it may seem, this thought brought 
 him a pang of curious jealousy. 
 
 All this mystery was increased when, in 
 June, Primrose sent him away. 
 
 "You must go somewhere for a month. 
 Please, Pierre, don't look so distressed. If 
 you wish to make me happy, go away, but 
 come back in a month. Perhaps," she added, 
 smiling, and yet seriously enough, "while 
 you are gone the fairy will appear." 
 
 So Pierre went away. When he returned, 
 he went to his window and looked into the 
 enclosure. He saw no one, and unpacked 
 his easel and put his unfinished picture upon 
 it. He stood for some time; then, with a 
 motion of impatience, took it and broke the 
 canvas on his knee. 
 
 " I will never do it," he said, " never. It 
 will never satisfy me without the sound of 
 the bells, and I cannot get that." 
 
 He returned to the window and looked 
 out. The garden seemed very alluring and 
 tender in the twilight. Suddenly a young 
 girl came slowly through the opening in the 
 hedge and walked through the enclosure. 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 279 
 
 He watched her just for her beauty, won- 
 dering who she was. Then she looked up 
 and stopped and gazed at him. He seemed 
 to see both wonder and recognition in her 
 eyes. He thought, too, that she murmured 
 his name. He stepped to the balcony; a 
 feeling almost of fear held him there. In a 
 moment, she turned and walked quickly from 
 the enclosure. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " he said, " am I dream- 
 ing? " He thought of the fairy and laughed. 
 But both the beauty of the girl and her 
 strange conduct had bewitched him so that 
 even such a miracle did not seem so absurd. 
 He put his red light near the window and 
 waited. It grew late, but no one came. At 
 nine o'clock, he saw an answering light at 
 the window opposite. 
 
 " She cannot come," he said. He won- 
 dered if there had been a wedding in his 
 absence: if Primrose had been married. He 
 could not believe this. 
 
 As he stood in his balcony, the scene be- 
 neath him did not tend to solve the mystery 
 it held, for even the coldest eye cannot see 
 reason so well by moonlight, and more things 
 than facts might well grow in such a garden. 
 
280 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 Pierre's eye was never cold. It had seen 
 strange things even by day, and the world 
 had not yet convinced him that the impos- 
 sible is not all that is real. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 IF ever there was a youth of twenty who, 
 through April, May, and June, was not in 
 love, I am happy to have missed him. 
 
 Pierre, already in love, beheld in this twi- 
 light apparition the outward form and sub- 
 stance of his mistress the embodiment of 
 his age, his nature, and the season. 
 
 As the moon rose and filled the garden 
 with ghostly shadows, his imagination kept 
 running to his heart with tales, and his fancy 
 whispered of mysterious delights. 
 
 There was scarcely a sound now in the 
 garden. Only the low voice of the fountain 
 and the fitful rustling of leaves could be 
 heard. The two red lights were out. The 
 balcony was now in darkness, for the moon 
 had passed over it, and the shadow of the 
 building was creeping across the enclosure. 
 The light still flooded the portion nearest 
 the cottage and now into this came Hilda. 
 She passed through the opening of the hedge 
 281 
 
282 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 and stopped a moment to look and listen. 
 Unconscious of the two watchers at their 
 windows, she moved slowly through the 
 moonlight to the little bench under her ma- 
 ple near the fountain. 
 
 In the soul of a boy like Pierre, Love 
 builds a shrine. All that is loveliest to him, 
 whether mountains or a meadow, a valley or 
 a garden, a woodland or a field, has formed 
 his holy land. If there has been little of 
 affection in his life, this shrine is the more 
 beautiful and sacred ; for, hidden in some 
 secret bower, it is for him a promise of all 
 that he has missed. Here, too, grow the 
 vines he has gathered by a look in his pil- 
 grimages ; here do the birds that have van- 
 ished return to make their eternal abode with 
 him. It is a place of bloom and perfume 
 and foliage, of silence and melody, of count- 
 less lights and shadows. 
 
 Pierre saw Hilda enter the enclosure and 
 hesitate, as if the sound of a falling leaf 
 might frighten her away. He almost ceased 
 to breathe, and wondered fearfully if the 
 shadow on his balcony would conceal him. 
 He saw her move across the lawn and take 
 her seat under the maple. He watched her 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 283 
 
 as one who, visiting his sacred bower by 
 chance, finds that the shrine is no longer 
 empty, that his divinity has come. He did 
 not desire to approach, but remained in a 
 silent ecstasy, a mingling of reverent devo- 
 tion and expectant delight, looking, hoping, 
 fearing to move lest she should vanish as 
 mysteriously as she came. 
 
 The light falling through the tree played 
 upon her white dress, her face, and hair as 
 the leaves moved. She could not have told 
 why sometimes her head drooped and her 
 eyes closed, what brought the smile to her 
 lips, nor why it was followed by a sigh. 
 She did not know that she was again sitting 
 in a place of Pierre's building, nor that he 
 was watching her. And yet she must un- 
 consciously have felt his presence, and heard 
 the sounds, and caught the perfumes of his 
 bower. Sometimes her memory, groping 
 among shadows, sought to bring back the 
 island and the child Pierre. She found her- 
 self, at the end of every revery, gazing upon 
 the face of the miniature. Perhaps it was 
 because she had seen in the eyes of this 
 youth the same spirit that she had followed 
 in the boy, that she now, unquestioningly, 
 
284 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 accepted him as the embodiment of her 
 dreams. She was not so conscious of the 
 fact that she had seen him at the window 
 overlooking the garden as of the impression 
 the miniature had made. She had looked 
 long and closely upon the portrait; her 
 glimpse of his face at the window had been 
 fleeting. She was not sure now that she 
 had really seen Pierre. It was of him she 
 was thinking, and not of his nearness. She 
 was again feeling the stress of his desires, 
 listening for the far-off voices that were call- 
 ing him. It was as if she again stood behind 
 him in the newer fields of his dreamland, 
 pleading with the birds to come to him, 
 hoping, with a deeper passion than before, 
 that they would gain what he was seeking. 
 For the face of the miniature was both strong 
 and wistful. 
 
 Pierre watched from his balcony until he 
 could no longer see her, for, with the pass- 
 ing of the moon, the shadows deepened 
 under the tree. But he did not move. He 
 knew that she was still there, and the dark- 
 ness had a new tenderness and beauty for 
 him. When he saw her faintly, by starlight, 
 pass again over the lawn and through the 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 285 
 
 opening of the hedge, he took a flute from 
 a table just inside, and, putting it to his lips, 
 sent its low notes into the garden. He did 
 not dare call this the message of his heart to 
 her, but, since this it was, it came to her as 
 such. She stood near the cottage listening, 
 and realized again, with a fluttering of her 
 heart and a strange trembling of her limbs, 
 that he was there, so near that she might 
 speak with him. This thought put her 
 dreams to flight. She went to her room 
 and, standing a moment before her mirror, 
 blushed at her own blushes, and smiled half 
 in shame and half in wondering pleasure into 
 her own glowing eyes. 
 
 To those who have forgotten their youth 
 and their first love, it may seem strange that 
 for nearly a month Pierre was contented 
 with an occasional glimpse of Hilda in the 
 garden with Primrose during the day, or 
 with watching her when she came there 
 alone at night. Had he questioned Prim- 
 rose, she would not have known what to tell 
 him. This was too much her own romance. 
 Had he spoken to her of his love, she would 
 have blushed and trembled as if listening 
 to a confession of passion for herself. She 
 
286 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 would have bared her own breast to the 
 world rather .than have revealed to him 
 whatever of Hilda's heart she might know. 
 During the day they were in the garden 
 together, reading, sewing, talking, dreaming, 
 and attending to whatever needed their care. 
 Sometimes Pierre stood by his window watch- 
 ing them. Both Primrose and Hilda knew 
 when he was there, but they did not speak 
 of him. Had Primrose not seen him, she 
 would have known when he appeared by 
 Hilda's covert glances, her heightened colour, 
 her too evident effort to appear unconscious. 
 Pierre also began to see that she knew when 
 he was watching her, and he became more 
 eager and yet more fearful. 
 
 At night Primrose remained within. When 
 Mr. Alexander had gone, Hilda would enter 
 the enclosure alone. As the weeks passed 
 Pierre gained sufficient courage, watching 
 her from his shaded balcony, to serenade 
 her with his flute. He ventured this the 
 first time, fearing that he might offend and 
 frighten her away. He was intoxicated with 
 happiness when, as he played, she remained 
 motionless on her seat by the fountain. She 
 did not seem to hear him, it is true, but he 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 287 
 
 could feel her near him ; he could watch the 
 little white being that had somehow drawn 
 to herself all the mystery and beauty of the 
 night, and pour out to her, through the ten- 
 derest tones of his instrument, all that he 
 felt so passionately, but could have found no 
 words of his own to express. 
 
 As the glorious June nights passed, 
 these serenades became more intimate and 
 tender. Hilda was becoming for him not 
 only the saint of his shrine, a priestess of 
 beauty, but a sweet human being as well, 
 with lips and eyes that might perhaps make 
 answer to his confessions. He noticed now 
 how white was her throat, how the colour 
 came and faded in her cheeks, how her hair 
 curled away from her forehead and about 
 her little pink ears. As he realized that she 
 was really listening to him, he began to 
 speak to her of herself in what he played, to 
 plead with and even to caress her. 
 
 All the garden seemed to find a pleasure 
 in these sounds. A bird would move in its 
 nest, chirping to its mate with something of 
 the old April sentiment. Sympathetic mur- 
 murs passed from bush to bush, from tree to 
 tree, and the wind, moving over the flowers, 
 
288 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 was made the post for countless tender mis- 
 sives. 
 
 Christopher Mott, standing in his garden 
 on these nights, looked sometimes toward 
 Primrose at her window, at Hilda by the 
 fountain, at Pierre on his balcony. He moved 
 along his gravel paths, listening to the mel- 
 ody. He paused now and then under a tree 
 or near a bush, smiling at the sudden stirring 
 of their leaves, or, intercepting one of the 
 missives of the flowers, he would say, " Yes, 
 my children, it is true the voice of love 
 comes very sweetly through a flute." 
 
 In fact, the one voice that had long been 
 lacking was at last sounding in the garden. 
 
 Mr. Alexander, from whose kindly nature 
 this beauty had sprung, was the only one 
 unconscious of it all. The Eden itself was 
 visible to him, but he knew nothing of that 
 which had brought to it the fulfilment of its 
 destiny, without which it must have remained 
 lost even to those who dwelt within it. He 
 who should have been the lord of the harvest 
 was now unconsciously threatening it with a 
 long delay. When he entered the garden he 
 brought with him a blighting shadow. 
 
 Pierre had learned that Hilda was his niece 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 289 
 
 and that this was the secret of his banishment. 
 Primrose became more and more troubled by 
 thoughts of him as she watched the unfold- 
 ing of her romance. Hilda was oppressed 
 by a singular misgiving as she became con- 
 scious that the coming of her Uncle Minot 
 was no longer a delight to her. She did not 
 admit even to herself any reason for this. 
 She was apprehensive of something unknown 
 when the time approached for his coming. 
 She was restless if he brought her into the 
 enclosure, and preferred to read to him on the 
 porch. Her heart reproached her for these 
 feelings, and she sought to silence it by 
 increased attentions to him. But even as 
 she read to him or walked by his side, as she 
 smiled or caressed his hand, she knew that 
 she was waiting only for him to go. 
 
 One day, as they were sitting on the porch, 
 Mr. Alexander felt the chill of the shadow. 
 
 " My dear," he said, " if you will excuse me, 
 I will go for a while into the sunlight." 
 
 He walked slowly down the path and 
 stopped by the glass experiment house. The 
 heat within tempted him. It would be good 
 for his old bones. He saw Mr. Mott work- 
 ing over a heap of compost and called to him, 
 
290 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " Christopher, I am going in here for a sun- 
 ning." 
 
 " Good," said Mr. Mott. " I will join you 
 presently. Be careful to close the door after 
 you, for one of the Pogonias is in bloom." 
 
 Mr. Alexander smiled and, going inside, 
 sank into a seat with a sigh of pleasure. He 
 was in the very centre of the flower garden 
 and all about him were beds aflame. Here was 
 a little field of deep blue larkspur surrounded 
 by patches of purple asters, golden coreopsis, 
 crimson poppies, and richly variegated petu- 
 nias. There were beds of four o'clocks and 
 sweet williams, marigolds and heliotrope, 
 phlox and mignonette. They tossed their 
 showy heads in the wind above, and among 
 them moved bees and butterflies and a count- 
 less multitude of insects. The sound that 
 came to him was like that of a distant carnival. 
 
 " It is strange," he thought, " very strange. 
 Some of these bees must have travelled miles 
 to reach here. They cannot be kept away, 
 it seems." 
 
 He smiled at the memory of his friend's 
 theories. In the midst of a pleasant fancy, 
 his head drooped. The hum and buzz out- 
 side grew fainter and then more distinct. He 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 291 
 
 seemed to catch the sound of laughter, of 
 happy murmurings, of smothered exclama- 
 tions, and protests of delight. Then sud- 
 denly he heard distinctly, close by his side, a 
 sighing and moaning, a tiny voice murmur- 
 ing in complaint. He was not surprised to 
 discover that it came from the Pogonia. The 
 delicate pink blossom was pressed against 
 the glass, and on the other side was a bee 
 striving desperately to reach it. The sound 
 of his body and wings beating against the 
 glass was pitiful to hear. 
 
 " Oh, oh," moaned the Pogonia, " why am 
 I here ? Oh, why am I here ? " 
 
 It was indeed a cruel plight for such a 
 bloom. Better to have kept her in a cellar, 
 to have hidden her forever from the light 
 than to have imprisoned her here, in the 
 midst of her gay sisters, able to see them in 
 their happy beauty, to hear the sound of their 
 laughter, longing for and yet deprived of the 
 lover even now beating his wings against her 
 cage. 
 
 The thought of this brought a feeling of 
 wrath to Mr. Alexander. 
 
 " Never mind, little one," he said, " I will 
 open the door. Your lover shall come in." 
 
292 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 His voice awoke him. He saw Mr. Mott 
 approaching, and sat up very straight. Then 
 he laughed at his own confusion, and when 
 his friend entered, he said : 
 
 " Come, my old fogy, your theories have 
 got into my dreams. I have been just now 
 listening to the complaint of your captive. 
 Do you know what it wants ? " 
 
 " I know," said Mr. Mott, shaking his head. 
 " These experiments are cruel. Shall I open 
 the door? Look into this blossom, Minot. 
 You see there are no seeds forming. Is it 
 not pitiful so much beauty gone to waste?" 
 
 " It is wonderful if it is really true." 
 
 " Tell me that you are convinced, and I 
 will take this poor plant to the garden." 
 
 " Oh, I will believe you," said Mr. Alexan- 
 der, smiling at the seriousness of his friend. 
 It was with a beaming face that Mr. Mott 
 took the pots of Pogonias, lady slippers, and 
 petunias and set them in the midst of the 
 other blossoms. As he stood watching them 
 for a moment with Mr. Alexander, he said, 
 
 " Minot, have you ever thought of what 
 you and Primrose would have done these ten 
 years without Hilda?" 
 
 " We should have been very lonely." 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 293 
 
 " More than that, you would have been 
 almost useless like my Pogonia bloom, in 
 fact, without any seeds." 
 
 " To hear you talk, one might think men 
 and women grew in pots." 
 
 " They are much the same. You will see." 
 
 He looked up with a curious twinkle in his 
 eyes as he added : 
 
 " There are all kinds of bees in this gar- 
 den. You will see." 
 
 Mr. Alexander was puzzled. On more 
 than one occasion lately Mr. Mott had spoken 
 in riddles, and there was, now and then, this 
 same glint of a secret in his eyes. 
 
 A few days later as they were again alone, 
 Mr. Mott laughed absently to himself. 
 
 " What are you chuckling over ? " asked 
 Mr. Alexander, a little testily. 
 
 " Oh, not much. I was thinking of your 
 dream. Do you ever doze when you sit with 
 Hilda?" 
 
 The other turned away abruptly. He 
 could not understand this. 
 
 " Don't be angry," said Mr. Mott, gravely. 
 "Have you noticed no change in her? It 
 might be a good thing for you to know what 
 her thoughts are." 
 
294 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 " What do you mean ? What thoughts can 
 she have ? Don't you think she is happy ? " 
 
 " How do I know? I can see, though, that 
 she is a little paler and thinner than before." 
 
 " Where is she ? " asked Mr. Alexan- 
 der, looking anxiously over the garden. He 
 was more disturbed than he cared to admit. 
 He walked slowly toward the house, but in 
 reality his heart was filled with alarm. 
 
 He stood on the porch and called to her. 
 When she appeared, he forgot everything but 
 his anxiety, and peered closely into her face. 
 
 " Hilda," he asked, " are you happy ? " 
 
 Confused by the earnestness of his gaze 
 and the abrupt question, she dropped her 
 eyes and remained silent. She could not 
 answer him at once. She felt suddenly that 
 she was not altogether happy, that she had 
 been carrying some trouble in her heart 
 unknown even to herself. She knew that 
 tears were filling her eyes and was ashamed 
 of them. 
 
 "What is the trouble?" asked Mr. Alexan- 
 der, now seriously distressed. " Why have 
 you not told me, if you were unhappy ? 
 What more can I do?" 
 
 "Oh," said Hilda, "you must not be anx- 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 295 
 
 ious. Don't don't look so, uncle. It is 
 nothing at all. I am happy, indeed I am. 
 I don't know what was the matter with me. 
 You took me by surprise, I guess that was 
 it." 
 
 She patted his cheek and kissed him and 
 led him to a seat. 
 
 " Is there any place you would like to 
 go ? " He stopped short, almost hoping she 
 had not heard. If she wished to travel now, 
 she must go without him. He could not 
 take her. 
 
 Hilda hesitated a moment, and then said 
 softly, 
 
 " May I see the island ? " 
 
 " What island ? " 
 
 "Where I lived before you took me 
 before before my mother died." 
 
 The tears that she had feared dropped 
 upon her cheeks unnoticed. Now that she 
 had spoken this desire so long held in secret, 
 she felt relieved, and the memories that her 
 own words brought made her unmindful of 
 the tears. There was a long silence. This 
 request had caused Mr. Alexander the great- 
 est astonishment. But the alarm of the reve- 
 lation passed, and he began to find a comfort 
 
296 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 in it. She did not wish to leave him. He 
 could still be near her. And then it was 
 this very affection and remembrance of what 
 she loved that had held her close to him. 
 Had it not been for this, he must have lost 
 her when she first went away to the convent. 
 So when he spoke, he said cheerily, " If it is 
 a bright day to-morrow, we will go." In a 
 few moments he continued quietly, " Do you 
 remember Jean Pilliod ? " 
 
 " Yes. Is he still there ? " 
 
 "Old Jean is dead. He left the island 
 to his grandson, Pierre, who leases it to a 
 neighbouring farmer. No one lives there 
 now. Alphonse and his wife went back 
 to France where, I believe, they inherited 
 some property from an uncle." 
 
 "And my mother?" 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 " Dear uncle, don't think because I cried 
 a little that I am unhappy. I do not grieve 
 for her. It is not that. I sometimes think 
 of her beauty and of her love for me, and 
 the tears just come. But you must not 
 mind. I know that it does not matter 
 where she lies, for, as Uncle Christopher 
 would say, all the earth is good, and that, 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 297 
 
 wherever her soul or body may be, none of 
 their beauty can be lost." 
 
 That evening, Mr. Alexander remained 
 later than usual. He had certainly never 
 been conscious of Hilda's restless desire for 
 him to go, but on this occasion he felt her 
 mood of increased tenderness, and it made 
 him linger with her. She wanted him to 
 stay ; she felt that she could not love him 
 enough for all his goodness to her. It 
 brought her a great happiness to again be 
 able to sit near him and be content. When 
 he went, she accompanied him to the gate 
 and watched him until he disappeared up 
 the dark street. And yet all this while 
 there had been something left unsaid. She 
 walked slowly back to the house. She 
 stopped a moment by the porch and then 
 passed on to the enclosure. Why had she 
 not spoken to him of Pierre? Her tears, 
 her pallor, the drooping of her head, and 
 the burden in her heart were not all due 
 to her memory of the island and her mother. 
 These were but the excuses made to herself 
 and to him. 
 
 It is singular how long a maiden will 
 dream of her lover without naming him as 
 
298 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 such, even to herself. For almost a month 
 Pierre had wooed her from his balcony, and 
 she had listened. Her whole being was 
 throbbing to the melody of his flute and 
 to the cry of his heart, as it had come to 
 her on the night winds. Her lips alone 
 were mute. Had she known the nature 
 of her own emotions, she might, perhaps, 
 have revealed them to Primrose. She could 
 have talked to her of Pierre, had his name 
 once passed between them. But the thought 
 of him rilled her with alarm when in the 
 presence of Mr. Alexander. Our instincts 
 may be but the memories of which we are 
 unconscious. The incident of the rose 
 vine had passed from Hilda's mind, but her 
 heart had retained the impression it had 
 made. 
 
 And yet, as she went into the enclosure 
 that night, she was happier than she had 
 been for a long time. She had given ex- 
 pression to some of her secret desires and 
 emotions, and was a little nearer to a com- 
 prehension of them all. 
 
 Pierre had been waiting for her with all 
 the apprehension lovers feel at even the 
 smallest delay. For them absence is not 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 299 
 
 a matter of time it is absence. Each 
 moment is an eternity, filled with disaster. 
 
 When he saw her enter, he thrilled with 
 delight. His eyes shone and filled with 
 tears. He might never have seen her 
 again, and she was here. He put the flute 
 to his lips, and sent her a greeting so tender 
 and so joyous that she raised her eyes, and 
 looked toward him smiling. 
 
 It was a wonderful night for both. The 
 late moon had passed entirely from view 
 when Hilda looked once again toward the 
 balcony, and murmuring a very, very faint 
 " Good night," returned to the house. When 
 she had gone, Pierre looked down into the 
 shadows and up to the stars, wondering, 
 confused, half delirious. She had looked at 
 him ; she had smiled upon him ; she had 
 whispered " Good night." 
 
 In certain natures great beauty is alone 
 sufficient to work a kind of madness. To 
 describe what Pierre saw as he stood on 
 his balcony, one must know what shapes 
 the wind can assume, what spirits brood in 
 the night. For three hours he had been 
 sitting in the moonlight, his mistress in a 
 garden beneath him. He had looked into 
 
300 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 her eyes. He had sought in vain for some 
 word to speak to her, and had trembled with 
 the fear that one might escape him. He 
 had taken his flute from his lips, and sighed 
 again and again. Its notes were too sad 
 or too cold. There was no sound in it 
 so sweet, so tender, so passionate as his 
 thoughts. There was no voice anywhere 
 to speak for him. This was surely all mad- 
 ness, but he who has not experienced it has 
 remained too sane. 
 
 Dawn found Pierre far from the city. He 
 had come across the fields, and was walking 
 near the river toward Maumee. He scarcely 
 knew where he had been, nor why he was 
 there. It had been an aimless wandering 
 under the starry sky the ever pathetic effort 
 of the feet to follow the free fancies of the 
 soul. He sat on the high bluff overlooking 
 the island and watched the day break. His 
 face was pale from his vigil. He had for- 
 gotten his hat, and his hair had been handled 
 roughly by the wind. 
 
 The shadows faded from the earth. The 
 sky became bright and clear. The birds in 
 passing tossed him a song. The island with 
 its ripening fields and flowering borders lay 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 301 
 
 beneath him, warm and glowing in the sun- 
 light. His face relaxed, he began to see 
 once more the things about him. He felt 
 his weariness. When the Angelus sounded 
 from the villages, he closed his eyes and lis- 
 tened. The sound brought him peace. He 
 walked on slowly now, for the sun was grow- 
 ing warm, and he was sleepy. He descended 
 the path, found his boat moored to its stake, 
 and pushed into the stream. He drifted with 
 the current until, reaching a little inland curve 
 where a few willows grew on the bank, he 
 pushed into their shade. Wild grape-vines 
 grew about the trees, climbing to their tops 
 and hanging in festoons from the branches. 
 There is no sweeter perfume than that of the 
 flower of the wild grape. These vines were 
 now in bloom. Pierre cut an armful of twigs, 
 covered with leaves and blossoms, and spread 
 them in his boat. He rolled up his coat for 
 a pillow, stretched himself on his bed, and 
 slept. His wild fancies of the night did not 
 trouble his sleep. They had passed with the 
 stars and the shadows. His dream was at 
 first but the echo of the morning bells. He 
 listened to them with the old unmindfulness 
 of his boyhood. He was again lying on his 
 
302 A PRINCESS OF A^CADY 
 
 back in the grass, watching the clouds, again 
 carrying stones for his city on the hill. Some- 
 times in his dreams he looked away down the 
 river, but with none of the old desire to go 
 there. He wished, rather, that what he 
 missed would return to him. He watched 
 the coming of the boat, no longer seeing in 
 it a means of escape, but hoping with all his 
 lonely heart that it would bring to him again 
 what it had taken away. The dream passed, 
 and he slept long and soundly. Late in the 
 afternoon he awoke with a start, and, sitting 
 up quickly, glanced with eager expectation 
 toward the shore. He saw Hilda under the 
 willows, looking at him in surprise and con- 
 fusion. 
 
 Mr. Alexander had driven with Hilda to 
 the island. During the ride up the river he 
 had scarcely spoken. His life was passing 
 before him again. He had lived in dreams 
 and busied himself with concerns that hardly 
 interested him. And his theories, what were 
 they ? He shook his head and wondered at 
 the passing of their importance. His dreams 
 had been both sad and sweet. His theories 
 had been nothing. He looked at Hilda. 
 He had once hoped never to see the shadow 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 303 
 
 of trouble in her face. The shadow was 
 there, but so soft and faint that it only gave 
 a tenderness to her beauty. He would not 
 alter it. He thought of his friend Mott and 
 the plants he had liberated. The recollec- 
 tion brought a smile and a sigh. 
 
 " She shall be free," he thought. " Her 
 life is her own. I can only love her." 
 
 He marvelled more and more at the silent 
 independence of her life. It had, indeed, 
 been her own ; but he also realized that her 
 affection had been a magnet, drawing to it 
 and retaining only the good and the beauti- 
 ful. 
 
 When they were opposite the island, he 
 called to a man in the field to carry them 
 over. Then he left her to go her way, for he 
 found it difficult to walk. He found a place 
 under a tree where the grass was thick and 
 the view was good. Here he would wait 
 for her. He tried to follow her in his 
 thoughts. Did she remember the day when 
 he had first seen her? It seemed to him 
 like yesterday. He saw her smiling at him 
 across the table, he found himself trying to 
 untangle the phrases that had become in- 
 volved. He smiled at the little legs stretch- 
 
304 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 ing to keep step with his own. The 
 afternoon passed. He stood up and looked 
 over the island. A little stroll, he thought, 
 would take the stiffness from his body. And 
 so he, too, came to the willows a full hour 
 after Pierre had awakened, to find Hilda 
 there. 
 
 He was surprised to hear voices, and still 
 more surprised, when, looking through the 
 grape-vines, he saw Hilda in the boat with 
 Pierre. At first, it was only his amazement 
 and his anger that prevented an instant inter- 
 ruption of the pretty scene. As he looked, 
 however, his mood softened. It is true that 
 this youth was holding the hand of his 
 Hilda; but there was so much happiness in 
 their eyes, and such a glow in their faces, 
 they seemed so oblivious to the world, and 
 so well acquainted with each other, that he 
 could only look and wonder. In a few 
 moments he began to understand. She 
 called him Pierre, and as they talked, and 
 talked, it was all " Do you remember ? " and 
 " Do you remember ? " Had he still waited 
 and listened, he might have heard even 
 sweeter words, for they, too, were spoken. 
 But he did not wait. 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 305 
 
 " She shall be free," he said. " No theory 
 of mine can bring such a bloom to her cheek, 
 such a light in her eye. She shall have the 
 free sunlight and air and what love life has 
 for her." ' 
 
 She found him at twilight, apparently doz- 
 ing under his tree. 
 
 " You have had a good sleep ? " She tried 
 to look as though nothing had occurred. 
 
 "Just dozing a little. It has made you 
 happy to come here. I can see it, my dear. 
 Don't hide your happiness from me." He 
 looked at her wistfully and hoped she would 
 tell him, but she did not know. She vaguely 
 felt the change that had come, however, and 
 was happy to sit close to him on the drive 
 home, and, holding his hand, think of her 
 meeting with Pierre, and of the night still to 
 come. 
 
 "She cannot tell me," he thought, "and it 
 is my own fault." 
 
 That evening he took Mr. Mott into the 
 garden and told him what he had seen. 
 
 "And now," he said, "there is but one 
 thing to do. Let us send for Pierre." 
 
 " Do you remember, Minot, why I have 
 never kept a hive in my garden ? " 
 
306 A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 
 
 "Why is that?" 
 
 " Because the bees come to me." 
 
 "Stuff and nonsense," said the other. 
 " What are you talking about ? I have 
 been speaking of Hilda, and you do not 
 listen. I say we must send for Pierre." 
 
 Mr. Mott laughed, and Mr. Alexander 
 grew red. 
 
 " Come with me, Minot. You shall see 
 what I mean." 
 
 He led his friend to the enclosure, and, 
 pointing to the window and the balcony, 
 said : 
 
 " Every night a fine bee is there hum- 
 ming. Do you understand? It is Pierre." 
 
 " Pierre ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " How long ? " 
 
 " Ever since her return." 
 
 "Hilda?" 
 
 " Every night she is here in the garden." 
 
 Mr. Alexander turned slowly away. 
 
 " What a fool I have been ! " 
 
 " My friend, she has come to a fine 
 flower." 
 
 " But it was not through me." 
 
 " No ? But you have done all that the 
 
A PRINCESS OF ARCADY 307 
 
 best of gardeners could do. You provided 
 the good soil and shelter from the storm." 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! " said the other, with 
 a choke in his voice ; but he was comforted. 
 
 That night Primrose, at her window, fol- 
 lowed the progress of her romance as far as 
 the first kiss, then silently closed the blinds.