. OF CALIF. LIBRARY. LOS ANGELES
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 BY 
 
 PHILIP ORNE. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 CUPPLES, UPHAM, AND COMPANY. 
 
 to Comer Bookstore, 
 1885.
 
 Copyright, 1885, 
 BY CUPPLES, UPHAM, AND COMPANY. 
 
 All rights rtstrvtd. 
 
 Hnibtrgitg 
 JOMK WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 I. 
 
 MRS. MILES STANDISH was giving a 
 garden party for her daughter Hilde- 
 garde, and the heavens had conspired with the 
 earth to make Miss Hildegarde's party a success. 
 Mrs. Miles Standish, however, was one of the 
 wise people who know that the gods help only 
 those who help themselves ; and although there 
 was every reason to believe that Hildegarde 
 Standish would shine in society if left to her 
 untutored impulses, Mrs. Standisbi -had moved 
 heaven and earth to make her daughter's suc- 
 cess more complete. Not that she had put her 
 daughter forward, or caused her to be talked 
 about ; she was far too wise. Hildegarde was 
 to make her debut the following winter, and for 
 the past year the world of society had seen just 
 enough of her to excite its curiosity without 
 
 2131815
 
 8 IMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 destroying that charm of freshness and novelty 
 which some debutantes have lost long before 
 their first season. But the path of success, 
 like the path of virtue, is a narrow one ; and 
 Hildegarde, if too closely shut up from the 
 world, would lack that wide circle of bowing 
 acquaintance so necessary to a good start in 
 the social race. Therefore, in the middle of 
 June, before every one had gone away for the 
 summer, Mrs. Standish invited all the people 
 she knew to a garden party at her suburban 
 house, as she said, "so that Hilda may know 
 some people when she comes out next winter." 
 
 Mrs. Standish and her daughter received their 
 guests in the great hall of the house, one of the 
 few halls deserving the name that our country 
 boasts* The house had come down to Mr. 
 Standish through several generations, and he 
 and his ancestors had had the good taste to let 
 it keep a colonial flavor, which did not interfere 
 with modern comfort. 
 
 Mrs. Standish had been a beautiful girl five 
 and twenty years before, and much of her beauty 
 was left to her now, enough at least to enable 
 her contemporaries to call her a very handsome 
 woman ; but her years had not doubled her 
 beauty by adding to it the calm dignity and
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE'S TORY. 9 
 
 repose which they ought to bring ; they had 
 covered it over with a look of unrest, so 
 common in New England, which, cherished 
 at first as showing that its wearer has escaped 
 from frivolity, hardens with age into second 
 nature. Hildegarde stood beside her mother. 
 She was tall, with fair hair and blue eyes, 
 not half so handsome as her mother was at her 
 age, Mrs. Standish's friends were wont to say ; 
 but this was a fact which their sceptical children 
 were loath to take on trust. And Hildegarde's 
 forehead and eyes had a restful look, which 
 made every one who saw her hope and believe 
 that her beauty wqyld not fade as her mother's 
 had done. 
 
 From their place in the hall Mrs. Standish 
 and her daughter looked out on the sloping lawn, 
 shaded here and there with well-grouped maples 
 or an occasional elm. In the distance, beyond 
 the valley which lay below the Standish place, 
 the beautiful curves of a range of distant hills 
 were marked against the sky. The lawn was 
 thickly sprinkled with ladies and gentlemen, 
 the ladies in that pretty variety of dress which 
 a garden party allows, and which gives it, on 
 their part, the effect of a fancy ball ; the gen- 
 tlemen also in every kind of costume which the
 
 10 SIMPLY A LOl'E-STORY. 
 
 tailor's art can devise, the more timid justifying 
 their peculiar habit by the license a garden party 
 is admitted to give, the bolder asserting that 
 some specially outlandish costume was all the 
 rage in England. 
 
 The stream of guests had run almost dry, 
 and Mrs. Standish had just told Hildegarde that 
 she might go out upon the lawn as soon as she 
 liked, when the only usher whom a sense of duty 
 had kept faithful to his post came up with two 
 young men. Mrs. Standish's eye brightened 
 (for when were not young men welcome at a 
 garden party ?), and she greeted the first comer 
 with considerable effusion. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Urquhart ? I am glad 
 to see you back again. Mr. Urquhart, my 
 daughter." Then turning to the younger man, 
 she received him pleasantly, but as if his coming 
 were of less importance. 
 
 Roger Urquhart, stepping aside to make room 
 for his friend, glanced keenly at Hildegarde, but 
 in a guarded manner, and as if that short, keen 
 look were something he was wont to give every 
 new object that came in his way. He said in a 
 low, pleasant voice : " It is strange, Miss Stan- 
 dish, how, after coming back from Europe, I seem 
 to step into my old place."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. n 
 
 "You have been in Europe for some time, 
 then ? " said Hildegarde. 
 
 " Yes, for three years ; and yet I could believe 
 that I had been away an hour, and had come 
 back again to Mrs. Standish's garden party of 
 three years ago, if I did not see in Miss Standish 
 the proof of the world's improvement since I 
 left." 
 
 Hildegarde smiled, and blushed a little ; then 
 her mother, speaking to her, presented George 
 Holyoke, and Roger Urquhart, bowing, retreated 
 to the lawn. 
 
 After an instant's pause, and just as Hilde- 
 garde opened her lips to speak, George Holyoke 
 said in a slightly constrained manner, " Have 
 you been in Europe, Miss Standish?" 
 
 " No," said Hildegarde, not yet wise enough 
 to see that the question was asked in the hope 
 of starting conversation, and not for its own 
 sake. 
 
 There was another short pause, during which 
 Mr. Holyoke's look of uneasiness increased, 
 before he said, " Do you not wish very much 
 to go?" 
 
 " Yes, certainly ; it must give one so much to 
 think about and enjoy in the recollection," said 
 Hildegarde, as she now recognized that the
 
 12 SIMPLY A LOW-STORY. 
 
 conversation must be kept up. At her smile 
 and the tone of interest in her voice, George 
 Holyoke's honest and intelligent face lit up imme- 
 diately, and he said in a very different manner: 
 " Yes ; and did you ever think what a blessing 
 such a stock of recollections would be if one 
 were sick for a long time, or, worse than that, if 
 one became blind ? " 
 
 " Good afternoon again, Miss Standish. Have 
 you not fulfilled your duties here, and will you 
 not give me the pleasure of escorting you to the 
 lawn ? " said a voice close beside George. 
 
 "Thank you," said Hildegarde to the new- 
 comer ; and, taking his arm and saying, " Excuse 
 me, Mr. Holyoke," she went out upon the lawn. 
 George met her smile with a bow, and a look in 
 which awkwardness and disgust at the interrup- 
 tion were but thinly covered with a proud reserve, 
 and he, too, followed into the open air. 
 
 Running his eye over the groups of guests, 
 he walked directly, but rather slowly, toward a 
 lady sitting in a garden-chair with a gentleman 
 standing before her, his back toward George. 
 As he advanced, he glanced furtively at the 
 lady, and seemed almost to catch her eye ; then, 
 thinking himself too far off to salute her, he 
 looked awkwardly at the ground. When he
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 13 
 
 reached her, his greeting and its return hardly 
 interrupted the animated flow of Mr. Larkyns's 
 conversation, to which Miss Ellison was listen- 
 ing with apparent interest. 
 
 " Yes ; you know the whole thing was really 
 very well got up, looked enough like an English 
 hunt to take in a man who had 'never been in 
 England, and had seen the thing only in those 
 colored fashion-plates. Miss Van Snyder you 
 have met Miss Van Snyder at Newport, I think, 
 Miss Ellison ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I met her there last season. You have 
 been at Newport, of course, Mr. Holyoke ? " said 
 Clara. 
 
 " No, I wish I had," said George, shortly, wish- 
 ing far more that he had some excuse for the 
 oversight. 
 
 " But you have been in Switzerland since I saw 
 you last, and can tell me about my old haunts." 
 
 " Ah, I wish I had been there," said Mr. 
 Larkyns. " My ideal of real bliss since my 
 childhood has consisted in being hauled up the 
 Grampushorn by a tow-rope attached to sixteen 
 athletic guides, that I might attain the rarer 
 bliss of being let down again. How sweetly 
 pretty it must be to gaze from the top of the 
 Jiffelberg on the sapphire (I think that is the
 
 14 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 word) depths of the Jumbelsee through a fog 
 in which you cannot see your hand before your 
 face! Then, when death comes at last, how 
 grand to be engulfed in a glacier, and after 
 thirty or forty years to be turned out in a dis- 
 tant valley ! It must be very satisfactory ; you 
 would live so much longer in the memory of 
 your relatives and friends if they were expecting 
 you to turn up every month or so." 
 
 Miss Ellison laughed, so did George ; but he 
 thought it hardly fair that Larkyns, without hav- 
 ing been in Switzerland, should be able to talk 
 about it so much better than himself. 
 
 "And speaking of mountains," continued Lar- 
 kyns, " the Green Hills are especially green this 
 afternoon. Shall we stroll where we can see 
 them?" 
 
 Miss Ellison arose, and said to George, who 
 was standing irresolute, "Won't you come with 
 us, Mr. Holyoke ? " 
 
 " No, thanks, I should be in the way," said 
 George. 
 
 Miss Ellison looked surprised and displeased. 
 Harry Larkyns said, with a laugh, " Not in the 
 least, old fellow ; " and the two went off, leaving 
 George very angry with himself and with the 
 world in general. They had taken but a few
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 15 
 
 steps when Harry said, " He 's a good and clever 
 fellow, George Holyoke, but he has very queer 
 manners sometimes." 
 
 " He is a very intelligent man, and often a very 
 agreeable one," said Clara. But, unfortunately, 
 her answer did not reach George's ears. 
 
 Turning from where he stood/ George strode 
 rapidly toward a more wooded part of the 
 grounds ; and, rushing on, he came suddenly 
 upon another couple. The lady was two or 
 three years older than himself, twenty-six or 
 seven, perhaps, tall and slender, with a face 
 at once shrewd and intellectual. She was in 
 earnest conversation with a middle-aged and 
 somewhat scraggy man, who had long, bushy 
 hair and peculiar garments. As George ap- 
 proached she looked quickly at him, greeted 
 him' by his first name, and, turning to her com- 
 panion, almost interrupted him. 
 
 " I must crave a short truce now, Professor 
 Sticks. Here is my young and frivolous cousin, 
 who knows no more of hereditary pauperism 
 than he does of many other important matters." 
 With a look of hatred, mingled with contempt, 
 for the frivolous cousin, and a few indistinct 
 mutterings, Professor Sticks fled. 
 
 " What is the matter now, George ? " said Ann
 
 16 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 Brattle ; " for behold how great a sacrifice I have 
 made for you ! At some future time I must 
 listen to Professor Sticks full two hours before 
 I can regain his lost favor. If that unhappy 
 face of yours is for nothing, I shall not do so 
 much for you the next time." 
 
 " It 's a weary world, Ann," said George, throw- 
 ing himself upon the grass at her feet. 
 
 " True, of course ; but you look as if you had 
 not been willing to take that celebrated axiom 
 upon trust, and had been instituting some experi- 
 ments to find out for yourself if it were true.'' 
 
 " How on earth do men begin to talk to a girl 
 when they have nothing in particular to say to 
 her ? " said George. 
 
 " I am not a man, and ought to ask you 
 the question. Come, out with it ; what is the 
 matter?" 
 
 " Much the same as ever. I go into the house 
 and am presented to Miss Hildegarde Standish. 
 I do not know anything about her, and her face 
 does not of itself suggest any particularly inter- 
 esting topic of conversation. All my ideas leave 
 me ; then, just as I have thought of something 
 to say, that fool of a Cocker comes up and inter- 
 rupts me, and takes her off to the lawn. Of 
 course she could not help going, even if she did
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 17 
 
 not want to go, and I did not especially care to 
 talk to her; but I do not like to know that I act 
 like a greater fool than Cocker really is." 
 
 " True, it is not pleasant," said Ann ; " and 
 afterwards for that is not your only trouble." 
 
 "Then I went up to Miss Ellison, whom I do 
 know, or whom at least I think I know ; but in 
 the first place she was sitting down and there 
 was no chair for me, and then Harry Larkyns 
 was rattling on to her about Newport. I never 
 had a chance to go to Newport, and that fact 
 may free me from all moral guilt in being silent ; 
 but it does not make me look less like a fool, 
 staring at Miss Ellison and saying nothing. 
 However, Miss Ellison turned the conversation 
 upon Switzerland, where I have been and Harry 
 has not. It was of no use, though ; he beat me 
 on my own ground. Harry, now, is not a fool, 
 sometimes I wish he was ; as it is, I can't look 
 down upon him to my own satisfaction. At last, 
 to make matters better, I left them with a very 
 rude speech, made out of sheer awkwardness." 
 
 "You don't do justice to yourself at all, 
 George," said his cousin. " Clara Ellison is a 
 very intelligent girl, and there is a great deal 
 of stuff in Hildegarde Standish, or I am much 
 mistaken. You can talk about things that will
 
 1 8 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 interest them more than Newport or the last 
 gossip of society. You are a cleverer fellow 
 than Harry Larkyns or even than Cocker." 
 
 " Thank you for the compliment ; but I can 
 hardly apostrophize a girl to whom I have just 
 been introduced, with, ' Do you not think, Miss 
 Jones, that Emerson's ideas in his Essay on 
 Art are fundamentally incorrect?' or, 'What is 
 your opinion of Grote's theory of the Unity of 
 the Homeric poems ? ' I cannot interrupt a 
 conversation, even if it is on Newport hunting, 
 with such wisdom as that. Miss Standish would 
 think me a lunatic, and Miss Ellison an ass." 
 
 " I don't know about that. Professor Sticks 
 begins in that way ; and I saw Miss Ellison 
 listening to him, with great interest, for three 
 quarters of an hour at Mrs. Male's. Seriously, 
 George, you are desperately shy with women, 
 I think you are rather shy even with men ; and 
 you must get over it." 
 
 " How, my fair cousin ? " 
 
 " How ? Well, take some intelligent girl. You 
 must not take me ; I am too near a relative, 
 besides being too old. Cultivate her acquaint- 
 ance, and get to know her; see how her mind 
 works ; see the ' wheels go wound ; ' and you will 
 be cured."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 19 
 
 " And whom would you suggest as the corpus 
 vile?" 
 
 " That is of no consequence ; only you must 
 not begin by being in love with her. You may 
 fall in love with her afterwards if you choose to. 
 And now that your plaint is ended, and the balm 
 applied, you may take me to the house ; there 
 leave me, and seek relief at the hands of some 
 fair maiden, if you like." 
 
 As they walked toward the house, Ann said, 
 " You go to the sea-shore to-morrow, do you 
 not ? " 
 
 " Yes ; Roger and I have decided to fish, and 
 sail, and loaf away the summer at Stapleton, 
 a village unknown to fame, except that the Stan- 
 dishes have a place there. It is the last long 
 summer holiday that I shall ever have ; and I am 
 going to enjoy it as I please, without being tied 
 down by fashion to fritter it away as I do not 
 please." 
 
 Leaving his cousin at the house, George fell 
 in with, rather than selected, a young lady whom 
 he did not like especially, but who had one great 
 gift, an unlimited supply of words. Spared 
 all anxiety, he soon talked as well as his com- 
 panion would let him ; and (for the lady was 
 somewhat given to flirtation) drifted away to a
 
 20 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 well-sheltered spot, where the wise forethought 
 of Mrs. Standish had put two garden-chairs. 
 Sitting there, talking with a pretty and good- 
 natured girl, George's manner, naturally very 
 respectful to women, unconsciously had become 
 devoted, and his commonplace talk seemed most 
 intimate and confidential, when there was a 
 rustling in the bushes, and Clara Ellison and 
 Harry Larkyns came upon them, talking and 
 laughing. They passed through the opening in 
 the branches so close to George and Miss Anstey 
 that the former had to rise, which he did, feel- 
 ing embarrassed, and therefore looking offended. 
 To have been found by Miss Anstey talking with 
 Miss Ellison would have been very well ; but it 
 was far otherwise to be found by Miss Ellison in 
 that place talking to Miss Anstey ; and George's 
 bow to Clara had in it little of pleasure or amia- 
 bility. Miss Anstey, however, suffered most 
 from the circumstance ; and, finding George 
 suddenly become distraught and taciturn, she 
 discovered that her mother was waiting for her, 
 and anxious to go home. Not caring to try his 
 luck again, George followed her example.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 21 
 
 II. 
 
 the following afternoon George Holyoke 
 and Roger Urquhart took the train for 
 Stapleton. After they had read the evening 
 papers, and thereby, without any compensation, 
 rendered the taste of those of the next morning 
 utterly insipid, George turned to Roger. 
 
 " How did you enjoy yourself yesterday at 
 Mrs. Standish's?" 
 
 " More than I generally do. A crowd of peo- 
 ple is often amusing for a change, and people 
 seldom have a better chance to be amusing than 
 at a garden party. The men look rather more 
 idiotic than usual, but the women shine out in 
 all their glory." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "Why, they have a much better chance to 
 show off their own characteristic and individual 
 arts and wiles than at an evening party ; there 
 is less formality, and the rules of the game are 
 more lax. At a ball, Miss Jones, Miss Brown,
 
 22 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 and Miss Robinson are forced by fashion to 
 show themselves off, to exhibit themselves, in 
 almost exactly the same way, and it is monoto- 
 nous to look from one to the other ; but take 
 some girl with you, so that you may not be 
 thought a spy, let her do all the talking, and 
 then go through the by-ways of a garden party, 
 and you will see that there is a certain amount 
 of individuality in women after all, my dear fel- 
 low. Miss Jones drags her captive up and down, 
 before the world to show how tame and well- 
 broken the animal is. Miss Brown lives upon 
 the words that fall from dear Mr. Tompkins's 
 lips ; it is true that she is incapable of under- 
 standing a word that is worth understanding, 
 but what does that matter ? Tompkins does n't 
 know it. Miss Robinson admits her victim to 
 the Eleusinian mysteries in some dark grove 
 where the rites are 
 
 ' Deadly to hear and deadly to tell, 
 Jesu Maria, shield us well ! ' 
 
 But you look as if you did not think the rites so 
 very deadly after all." 
 
 " Perhaps, and perhaps not," said George ; 
 "but I don't agree with you that women go into 
 society merely for display."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 23 
 
 " Don't they ? Now Miss Martineau, who is 
 supposed to be quite as sensible as most of her 
 sex, says they do. Slie thought that men were 
 different ; but then she wanted to be a man and 
 could n't, therefore she is not a fair judge on 
 that point." 
 
 " I never heard that Miss Martineau was par- 
 ticularly successful as a display, and I doubt 
 whether she knew much more of women than 
 she did of men." 
 
 " Well, if you will not believe Miss Marti- 
 neau, produce your woman who thinks of any- 
 thing but display in society, or anywhere else, 
 for the matter of that," he added under his 
 breath. 
 
 George paused a moment ; he wished to over- 
 whelm his friend and stop his mouth with some 
 convincing example. He thought of Mrs. Urqu- 
 hart, Roger's mother, but it was hardly fair to 
 name her, and, besides, she did not go into so- 
 ciety ; then of Ann Brattle, but she was his own 
 cousin, and he was too honest to protect himself 
 by hiding behind his relatives and trusting that 
 Roger's politeness would prevent him from strik- 
 ing them. 
 
 " You have so many good instances that it is 
 hard to choose, I suppose," said Roger.
 
 24 >7.w/, V -i LOVE-STORY. 
 
 "Take Miss Hildegarde Standish, for exam- 
 ple," said George, almost at random. 
 
 " Miss Hildegarde Standish ! You might have 
 done better than that. Ah, very good. I see 
 you mean to make the point that Miss Hilde- 
 garde Standish does not think at all, or per- 
 haps that she sometimes thinks of the dolls she 
 has had to leave and to whom she hopes soon to 
 return ; but I am quite sure that you are wrong 
 there. I did not say that women thought of dis- 
 play all the time while in society, but merely 
 that they thought of nothing else. Now Miss 
 Standish, in spite of that vacuity of manner 
 which I grant you is apparently very complete, 
 does think what effect she is producing. Oh, 
 simplicity is very nearly the most artful dodge 
 of all, my dear boy ! But perhaps you are smit- 
 ten with the charms of the fair one ; if so, I am 
 sorry to shatter your illusions." 
 
 " I am not smitten, nor are my illusions, as 
 you so kindly call them, shattered ; but, Roger, 
 you scare me sometimes. If you talk of people 
 in this way, what security have I that you do 
 not say the same thing of me behind my back, 
 or think it, if you are too honorable to speak ? " 
 
 " Because, George," said Roger, his voice and 
 whole manner changing completely, "because
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STOHY. 25 
 
 you know that I think very differently of you, be- 
 cause you are my friend as I hope I am yours, 
 and because I love you, George, old boy." 
 
 George smiled on Roger Urquhart as men 
 rarely smile on one another, and knew that 
 Roger spoke the truth, though he could not see 
 the logic of his friend's vindication. 
 
 The country through which they were travel- 
 ling had been utterly uninteresting, but now it 
 suddenly changed. Most of us had rather look 
 upon a face plain or even ugly, if it has strong 
 character and individuality, than upon mere 
 commonplace prettiness ; and so, far more in 
 Nature, where unbroken monotony and grim 
 ugliness both have a beauty in themselves, we 
 are drawn to look upon those spots which have 
 a marked character of their own. The gnarled 
 oak is gnarled, no power can make it smooth 
 and straight again, or even change the shape 
 of its grotesque limbs ; the fair and slender sap- 
 ling can be trained and twisted as you will. So 
 the fertile meadow is this year green with grass, 
 next year yellow with the waving grain, and the 
 year after brown, as the ploughed ground lies 
 fallow ; yet twenty years, and you may cover it 
 with a forest, and yet twelve months more, and 
 you may pasture your cattle again on the same
 
 26 MM PLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 spot. But no power of man can change the dark 
 green of the salt marshes, the light green of the 
 feathery beach-grass, the pale yellow of the sand- 
 hills as the sun shines on them, or the blue sea 
 that washes their feet. 
 
 So lay the land and sea to the northward on 
 their left, but on the right a country gently roll- 
 ing was covered with scrubby oaks and pitch- 
 pines, the tallest hardly more than twenty feet 
 high. The houses were but few ; their cleanli- 
 ness and fresh white paint deprived them of the 
 picturesqueness that a New England farmhouse 
 possesses, with its shingles painted gray and 
 brown by the snows of fifty winters, stained 
 here and there with the primeval red. The 
 roads were deep in sand, and an occasional field, 
 breaking the monotony of the low forest, bore 
 grass hardly good enough for pasturage. At 
 intervals of three or four miles the train would 
 stop at a small village of these same neat houses, 
 whose owners had no visible means of support, 
 though it was evident that those of the passen- 
 gers who left or entered the train had never 
 wanted for food, clothing, or shelter. They 
 were of the pure Yankee type, but not of the 
 New Hampshire variety ; for the men were 
 browner and hardier from their rough sea-life,
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 27 
 
 and more intelligent and liberal from their inter- 
 course with men of all pursuits from all parts of 
 the world. There was less difference in the 
 women ; but even they looked somewhat sturdier 
 than their New Hampshire kindred, and their 
 voices were not quite so harsh and nasal. 
 
 It was for the third or fourth of these vil- 
 lages that Roger and George were bound. Its 
 name was called, and the two alighted. Roger 
 went after the driver who was to take them 
 several miles to a hotel where they had engaged 
 rooms, and George was standing looking at the 
 train, when a woman came out upon the front 
 steps of the car he had just left. As her foot 
 touched the platform of the station, the train 
 started and she was tripped and thrown back 
 against the corner of the car, and would have 
 dropped under the wheels of the moving train, 
 had not George seized her and dragged her up 
 in safety, his hand, as he did so, being bruised 
 and torn by a projecting part of the car. 
 
 " I don't know how to thank you," said the 
 young woman, into whose face the color came 
 back slowly. 
 
 "There is nothing to thank me for," said 
 George. " I ran no risk." 
 
 "But I did," said the girl, glancing instinc-
 
 28 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 lively, with a shudder, at the rails; "and oh, 
 you have hurt your hand ! " seeing the back of 
 George's hand covered with blood. 
 
 " It 's nothing ; a mere scratch from the car as 
 it went by," said George, taking out his hand- 
 kerchief, and trying with his left hand to bind it 
 around his right. 
 
 The attempt was a failure, and the girl said, 
 " I will do it for you, if you will let me." 
 
 George thought himself entitled to this reward 
 for his services, and held out his hand. As he 
 did so, he looked for the first time full in her 
 face ; it was dusk, but he could see that she was 
 young and pretty, and he knew that her voice 
 was not like those which had pierced and rent 
 his ear while he was in the car. 
 
 " George," called Roger's voice from the other 
 side of the station, "aren't you coming? We 
 ought to be off." 
 
 " You 're a goin' over with me, Mary," said 
 an old man, looking somewhat like a satyr of 
 advanced age, shambling along the platform to 
 where George stood, and speaking to the girl. 
 The operation was completed by this time, and 
 George raised his hat as he turned to go. 
 
 " I must say again that I am very grateful to 
 you," said Mary, speaking slowly and distinctly,
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 29 
 
 and in such a way that George stopped perforce, 
 " for having saved my life." 
 
 As George walked away toward Roger, he 
 looked well pleased, and he met and answered 
 his friend's inquiries with a smile. 
 
 "I trust she was pretty," said Roger. 
 
 " Yes, I think she was," George admitted. 
 
 " What a piece of luck for you, old boy," said 
 Roger as they drove along, " for a man of your 
 romantic turn of mind ; such a chance for a 
 poem, or for what they call a sketch ! The fact 
 that you don't know her name or anything about 
 her, and that the story has no particular ending, 
 will impart to it that vagueness which is so 
 essential." 
 
 The two men were driven through several 
 miles of low woods like those they had already 
 seen. There were no houses, the country looked 
 desolate, and both George and Roger had begun 
 to doubt their wisdom in choosing Stapleton as 
 their summer headquarters, when the wagon 
 came clear of the woods, and they saw the 
 moon, just risen, shining across a small land- 
 locked bay. The lights of the village in front 
 of them showed that it lay on one side of this 
 bay, while on a bluff half a mile off and across 
 the water was a large house which they rightly
 
 30 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 judged to belong to Mr. Standish. Further 
 down, and opposite the lower end of the village, 
 the bay widened, and the moon, just clear of the 
 trees on the further shore, leaving a broad wake 
 in the rippling water, showed that the harbor 
 was as free from ocean swell as a mountain lake, 
 while the open sea, visible over a low beach at 
 the entrance of the bay, proved that it was part 
 of the very ocean after all. 
 
 Their wagon drove up to the hotel where they 
 had engaged rooms. Its aspect was not pre- 
 possessing. It was small, built close to the 
 road, without any beauty or ornament, and there 
 seemed to be no very good reason why it should 
 have attracted to itself so many guests. Yet 
 there they were, old and young, with more chil- 
 dren than the bounty of nature usually allows, 
 all having that appearance of being at home, and 
 acquainted with each other, which twenty-four 
 hours' stay in a strange place will often give, yet 
 which is so discouraging to later comers. To 
 George and Roger, however, the desire of know- 
 ing these people was but a slight temptation. 
 They had that miscellaneous appearance com- 
 mon at third-class watering-places ; they were 
 laughing and talking ; the children rushing 
 about the piazzas, shouting, screaming, and
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 31 
 
 crying. Altogether, the two young men felt 
 anything but enthusiastic over the prospect of 
 passing two months in the place. 
 
 The landlord came forward ; he had chosen 
 his trade for the time-honored reason that he 
 was fit for nothing else. None of the wonted 
 pride of the haughty hotel clerk was his ; with 
 shuffling gait and nervous hands he came to the 
 wagon. 
 
 " I am Mr. Urquhart," said Roger, as soon as he 
 had got out. " Will you show us our rooms ? " 
 
 " Your rooms ! " said the man, endeavoring 
 to cloak his guilty conscience with something 
 which he meant for independence, and which 
 sounded like an attempt at impudence. 
 
 " Yes, our rooms," Roger answered ironically; 
 for the whole scene was fast exasperating him. 
 " You are Mr. Jenkins, I believe, who answered 
 a letter which I wrote to Stapleton." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the man, independence and 
 impudence both vanishing, and leaving his guilt 
 very ill-concealed. "John, show the gentlemen 
 to Twenty-seven." 
 
 The room, of course, was of a kind very dif- 
 ferent from what Roger had ordered and Mr. 
 Jenkins had promised. Breaking away from 
 John, Roger and George lost their way, went
 
 32 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 down the back stairs, and thereby cut off the 
 flight of Mr. Jenkins to the kitchen or some 
 other place of refuge. Roger was in a towering 
 passion, and put to the unhappy landlord the 
 usual question, " What do you mean by it ? " 
 
 Had Mr. Jenkins told the whole truth, he 
 would have acknowledged that he had been over- 
 persuaded on the previous Monday by Mr. 
 Slusher into letting that gentleman have the 
 rooms which he had promised to George and 
 Roger. As it was, he said that he had not 
 expected Mr. Urquhart so soon. And this was 
 partly true ; for he had so trained his expecta- 
 tions to wait upon his hopes, that he had be- 
 lieved, after his fashion, that sickness or an 
 earthquake would be sent by Providence to post- 
 pone his guests' arrival. 
 
 " Did you not write that the rooms would be 
 ready on the twentieth ? " said Roger. 
 
 If Mr. Jenkins had not seen his own letter in 
 Roger's hand, he would have prevaricated again ; 
 as it was, his invention was at a loss, and he told 
 the truth. 
 
 " The rooms are ours, and we must have 
 them," said Roger. 
 
 Mr. Jenkins hesitated. "I I could get you 
 a room, perhaps, at Mis' Rogers's to-night, and
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 33 
 
 to-morrow I will try and fix it somehow," said 
 the unhappy landlord, knowing very well that 
 his only hope of fixing it lay in another inter- 
 position of Providence which should drown the 
 whole Slusher family at their sea-bath on the 
 following morning. 
 
 " D n Miss Rogers," said Urquhart. 
 
 " We can't do worse if we go there," broke in 
 George ; " and we may do better." 
 
 The landlord smiled on George as a bene- 
 factor ; and after some protestation from Roger 
 it was agreed that the two young men should 
 lodge in a neighboring house for the night. 
 
 Thither they went after a supper which cor- 
 responded admirably with the accommodations 
 of No. 27 ; Roger in a bad humor with all the 
 world but his friend. 
 
 " Easy, now," said George, as they went up a 
 narrow brick walk which led from the street 
 to a large white house. " Don't you know that 
 Mrs. Rogers takes us in as a favor ? If you go 
 on in this way, her free Yankee spirit will make 
 her turn us out of doors." 
 
 " I believe, George," said his companion, " that 
 you would put up with anything; your Euro- 
 pean experience ought to have taught you better 
 than that." 
 
 3
 
 34 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " My American experience has taught me 
 that my European experience is good for noth- 
 ing in dealing with New Englanders. Let me 
 talk to Mrs. Rogers, whom, by the way, you 
 persist in making out a spinster." 
 
 Accordingly, when a thin, nervous, neatly 
 dressed woman opened the door, George greeted 
 her with distinguished politeness. The two 
 young men were shown to their room, Mrs. 
 Rogers reiterating, as they went upstairs, that 
 she had known of their coming but an hour 
 before, and so had been unable to do various 
 and sundry things for her guests' comfort. Left 
 to themselves, they were glad to go to bed.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 35 
 
 III. 
 
 THE sun rose clear the next morning, and 
 Roger, who was the earlier riser, went out, 
 leaving George alone. The room which their 
 hostess had given them certainly was an im- 
 provement upon No. 27. It was large and ex- 
 quisitely clean, the floor bare, without a speck 
 of dust, the beds high and comfortable, occupying 
 a middle station in the course of development 
 between the ancient four-poster and the modern 
 bedstead. There were white cotton shades in 
 the windows, rolled half-way up and pinned, for 
 there were no cords, and for ornament, fringed 
 curtains of rather better material, with a fringed 
 valance above the window-frame. These win- 
 dows looked out on the bay and across it to the 
 house of Mr. Standish on the opposite shore ; to 
 the right, one could see the ocean over the sand- 
 bar which protected the harbor ; to the left, the 
 bay ran far up into the land, narrow, with trees 
 growing near the water's edge, resembling a
 
 36 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 river, except where the thatch and the beach- 
 grass showed that the water was salt. George 
 had taken in all this and was dressing lazily, 
 when Roger returned. 
 
 "I 've hit it," he said, as he came in. 
 
 "Well, what is it?" said George. "Judging 
 from what I can see from the windows, this is 
 not such a bad place after all." The meaning 
 of the last remark was this : George thought that 
 his friend wished to leave Stapleton at once, 
 a wish which he, through natural laziness and 
 easy-going content, did not share. 
 
 " Wait till I tell you what I have seen," replied 
 Roger. " I have been to the Squibnocket Hotel, 
 and it is positively worse than I had imagined. 
 In the house the women were banging upon a 
 broken-winded piano ; out of it the men at this 
 hour of the morning were playing euchre with 
 an antediluvian pack of cards ; both indoors and 
 out of doors the children were exercising their 
 lungs in a way which must be gratifying to 
 parents of a consumptive tendency. Now, to 
 use one of the few Scriptural comparisons that 
 I have on hand, if they do these things in the 
 green leaf, that is, at nine in the morning, what 
 will they do in the dry, which may be repre- 
 sented by nine o'clock in the evening? I once
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 37 
 
 passed a week in such a place in order to study 
 human nature. I would rather know as little of 
 it as Saint Simeon Stylites, than live that week 
 over again. And, by the way, the breakfast 
 hour being long past, you must wait until dinner 
 for something to eat." 
 
 " Did you hear anything about the shooting 
 and fishing ?" said George, not yet giving in. 
 
 "You have seen one side of the shield, now 
 look on the other. I met an ancient mariner, 
 who told me that the fishing was excellent, good 
 trout-fishing, passable blue-fishing, that there 
 was fair shooting, and sailing in every way ad- 
 mirable. As I walked back from the hotel I was 
 reflecting that good and evil always are mixed 
 in some such way in this world, when, as I 
 came through the entry and upstairs, a Heaven- 
 sent inspiration filled me. The door of the 
 kitchen if it be not impious to call such a place 
 a kitchen was open, and I could see a breakfast 
 laid out for Mr. Rogers, who has returned from 
 somewhere or other. Everything clean and 
 neat, and so appetizing that, upon my word, I 
 forgot I had breakfasted at the Squibnocket. 
 To crown all, Mr. Rogers was waited upon by 
 a maiden of surpassing beauty, who is, I take 
 it, the daughter of the house. Now, I propose
 
 38 SIMPLY A LOVK-XTORY. 
 
 that we shall both board and lodge with Madame 
 Rogers, and leave Mr. Jenkins to his own 
 devices." 
 
 " I am very much mistaken if Mrs. Rogers will 
 agree to your proposal. She took us in only 
 for the night, and I should judge that they are 
 too well off to keep us." 
 
 " You do not know my powers of persuasion, 
 or what desperation will do for a man naturally 
 modest. I am going to her now." 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, Roger, if you want to 
 stay here, and I agree that we can't do anything 
 better, don't talk to our landlady in that way ; 
 don't imagine that she is a Frenchwoman. She 
 is a Yankee, and your acquaintance with Yan- 
 kees is limited." 
 
 " She is a woman, and my acquaintance with 
 women is considerable. Come on, if you want a 
 lesson in fascination." 
 
 George followed Roger downstairs, hoping 
 that he should be able to represent in Mrs. 
 Rogers's eyes enough sobriety to make up for 
 his friend's frivolity. As luck would have it, 
 they met their hostess in the entry. She was a 
 thin, pale woman, over whom anxiety and sad- 
 ness ruled with the strength of moral duties, and 
 who considered pleasure a sin to be expiated by .
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 39 
 
 long and bitter penance. Making her a low bow, 
 to which she paid scarcely any attention, Roger 
 began in a solemn voice, " Do you know, Mrs. 
 Rogers, from what a fate you saved us last 
 night ? " 
 
 " Why, what do you mean, sir ? " said Mrs. 
 Rogers, startled out of her indifference. 
 
 "That man at the hotel, Jenkins," continued 
 Roger, " wished to put us into a miserable room, 
 where I verily believe we should have been 
 stifled, the air was so close ; so that when we 
 saw your delightful chamber upstairs, I assure 
 you it seemed like Paradise to us, ma'am." 
 
 " Well, I 'm glad it suited you ; I 'm sure you 
 were welcome to it," said Mrs. Rogers, sternly 
 putting away from her the temptation to be 
 pleased. 
 
 " We are so thankful to you for your kindness 
 in welcoming us to your house," said Roger, 
 " that we are going to ask you to go a step far- 
 ther and welcome us to your table. I assure 
 you," he hurried on, seeing signs of opposition 
 on his hostess' part, " that your kind heart would 
 have taken pity on me if you had seen the 
 breakfast which that sinner Jenkins gave me 
 this morning. When I saw Mr. Rogers's break- 
 fast as I came back, my mouth fairly watered."
 
 4 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " Why did n't you come in and get some ? 
 That Jenkins always was a mis'able provider," 
 said Mrs. Rogers, her temptation now getting the 
 better of her, and the corners of her mouth rising 
 perceptibly; then, firmly, "but we don't take 
 boarders, nor lodgers neither, only for a night 
 just to accommodate." 
 
 "But we aren't like other boarders; we are 
 two very quiet young men. We have been hard 
 at work, and we have come down here to rest 
 before we go to work again. We need good food 
 and a quiet place just like this, and we could n't 
 live at the hotel. You would n't like to have 
 our deaths lie at your door, would you, now?" 
 said Roger, appealingly. 
 
 " I have seen young met) ! " said the landlady, 
 her eyes sparkling just a little at this unwonted 
 exercise of her wit. 
 
 " Seriously," said George, " if you could possi- 
 bly take us in, we should be very much obliged 
 to you if you would. I do not think that we 
 should trouble you very much." 
 
 "I couldn't get two sets of meals," said Mrs. 
 Rogers thoughtfully, turning to him. 
 
 George knew that their cause was almost won. 
 " We could make your hours suit us, I think," 
 he said; "and if we were very late now and then
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 41 
 
 we should have to go to the hotel, I suppose," 
 he added artfully. 
 
 " You won't get much by going there," said 
 Mrs. Rogers. ' Well, I '11 think about it, and let 
 you know to-night. You can't take your meals 
 here to-day, for I have n't got anything ready 
 for you. No, I have n't, young man," sharply to 
 Roger, who was opening his mouth to protest. 
 " I '11 talk with my husband, and I can let you 
 know to-night." Thus speaking, Mrs. Rogers 
 departed, and the two young men went out. 
 
 Captain Shearjashub Rogers had been a suc- 
 cessful whaler, and had laid up a competence ; 
 but he had invested his earnings in coasting- 
 schooners, and, as the coasting-trade was very 
 dull, money was -not now so plentiful as it had 
 been just after the war. It was this fact that 
 had induced Mrs. Rogers to take in the two 
 young men for the night, and later to admit the 
 bare possibility of receiving them as boarders. 
 A family council was held in the afternoon, and 
 Roger, who waited upon his hostess to learn its 
 result, reported to George that the decision was 
 favorable. " She says that we may keep that 
 room, that she will give us another, and that we 
 may take our meals with them if we can put up 
 with what she gives us."
 
 42 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 It was one of the longest days of the year, 
 and, after an early supper at the Squibnocket 
 House, George proposed a stroll in the woods 
 which shut in the village of Stapleton on all 
 sides except toward the water. 
 
 " No," said Roger, " I am going to our abode 
 to view the glorious results of my audacious 
 diplomacy ; also, I may glance about casually 
 and see if the charming Miss Rogers be as 
 beautiful as I first took her to be." 
 
 Accordingly George went alone, and wan- 
 dered from one wood road into another, where 
 the tracks were just wide enough for a cart, 
 here sandy, and there covered with leaves or 
 pine needles, the branches of oaks or pitch-pines 
 often meeting so low that a covered wagon could 
 scarcely pass through. He did not see that one 
 path resembled another so exactly, that to re- 
 trace his steps was impossible. As he strolled 
 along, his thoughts went back to the garden 
 party, and for he was given to asking himself 
 questions which he strove to answer fairly, as if 
 the questioner were another person he asked 
 himself if he was in love with Clara Ellison. 
 There was some interval before he got an an- 
 swer. When it came, his inmost self replied to 
 that other person who sat apart as judge and
 
 DIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 43 
 
 questioner: "No; if I were, I should not be 
 attracted by each pretty face I see. If I were, 
 I should not have composed already more than 
 one romance of which that girl whom I helped 
 yesterday was the heroine. I might fall in love 
 with Clara Ellison if she would give me the 
 chance, but at present I am only jealous when 
 I see another man talking to her ; I am not in 
 love with her myself." Then he thought of the 
 shyness with which his cousin Ann had charged 
 him, the existence of which he admitted only too 
 completely. " She told me that I ought to know 
 some girl well. At least she is right so far as 
 this, I do not really know any woman of my own 
 age. However, I can't make the experiment now; 
 she would not advise me to begin with a village 
 beauty, and the fair maidens of the Squibnocket 
 seem to be fully occupied already." 
 
 His attention now was drawn to a little lake 
 five or six acres in size, to the border of which 
 he had come. He had not seen a house or a 
 human being since he left the village, and this 
 place looked especially wild. On one side of 
 the lake was a small barren pasture, in which 
 the coarse straggling spears of grass failed to 
 hide the sand beneath them ; but the three 
 other shores were covered with trees growing
 
 44 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 down to the water's edge. The ground rose 
 slightly away from the lake, thus giving to the 
 trees, which were thickly massed, the effect of 
 greater height than really belonged to them. 
 So close did the forest clasp the water, that the 
 lake looked as if it had been crowded into a 
 space too small for it, and, in the crowding, 
 had toppled over a few pines into the water. 
 
 George had come to the edge of the pasture, 
 and the sunset glow reflected in the calm water 
 beside the green foliage reminded him that it 
 was time to turn back. He realized that he 
 had lost his way ; and, not knowing even the 
 right direction, was turning around to retrace 
 his steps, when he saw a girl come toward him 
 from the woods on the other side of the pasture. 
 He went to meet her, meaning to ask the way 
 home ; as he approached, he saw, to his sur- 
 prise, that she was the girl he had saved at the 
 station. She was tall, with an erect carriage, 
 her figure too thin for perfect beauty, but grace- 
 ful and well-poised ; she was a dark brunette, 
 her features regular and finely cut. She wore 
 a white dress set off with three or four bows 
 of rich crimson ; but as George knew nothing 
 of its material, his inexperience failed to get 
 therefrom a clear idea of her social standing, 
 
 D*
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 45 
 
 and she was so pretty that the question did not 
 interest him particularly. Coming up, he lifted 
 his hat, and received a bow which was rather 
 stately, and wholly free from embarrassment. 
 She was passing on, when he remembered his 
 question. 
 
 " Can you tell me the way to Stapleton ? " 
 
 " Yes." Then, after a moment's pause, fol- 
 lowed a series of directions more and more com- 
 plicated, and at which George's face became so 
 perplexed that the girl smiled slightly in spite 
 of an evident desire to be very serious. 
 
 "If you are going there, may I" he was 
 going to say mechanically " have the pleasure," 
 but he checked himself in time " walk back 
 with you ? " 
 
 " Yes, if you wish to ; we turn this way." 
 And she took a path other than that by which 
 George had come. As he walked beside her 
 he felt that he, the city-bred man, should make 
 conversation. 
 
 " We came over yesterday to the hotel, but 
 we have taken rooms at a private house with a 
 Mrs. Rogers," he said. 
 
 " Yes ; I know that your rooms are at my 
 father's house," she answered quietly, speaking 
 slowly and carefully, with a pleasant intonation, 
 but without much expression in her voice.
 
 46 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " We are fortunate indeed," said George, feel- 
 ing that a compliment was called for. 
 
 " Yes, I think you are ; the situation is good, 
 and my mother is called a good cook," was the 
 reply, in a tone which convinced George that 
 the family conclave had not been unanimous in 
 receiving Roger and himself as boarders. 
 
 They walked on for a moment in silence. It 
 is very pleasant to walk beside a beautiful girl in 
 the gloaming, even without talking to her ; but 
 the pleasure is greatly marred if your conscience 
 tells you that you ought to speak, and if, when 
 you try to seize upon ideas, you find them fading, 
 one after another, into intangible mist. George 
 had mentally cursed his shyness more than once, 
 when he caught another glimpse of the lake 
 through the trees, and he spoke of the sunset 
 glory which was reflected in the still water. 
 
 " Yes," said the girl, " there are a great many 
 pretty ponds about here ; it is almost the only 
 beautiful thing we have, except the sea." 
 
 " And many of you don't seem to appreciate 
 the sea," said George. " I noticed that your 
 next neighbor in Stapleton had built his barn 
 so as to cut off all view of the ocean. I have 
 thought that people living in the country, or by 
 the sea-shore, do not notice the beauties of 
 nature so much as their visitors from the city."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 47 
 
 " Perhaps they do not notice them so much, 
 they feel them a great deal more," in rather 
 a proud tone, and with more expression. " I 
 never noticed the beauties of the sea when I 
 was a child ; but that did not prevent me from 
 missing them when I was at school, and could 
 see nothing but land for three years. It may 
 be," with a slight smile, " that I have noticed the 
 beauties of the sea more since I came back." 
 She went on, after a moment's interval; " I am 
 surprised how you from the city do not seem to 
 notice its beauties. Why, we from the country 
 are delighted with the long rows of lamps in 
 the streets and the clusters of them in the 
 parks ; and I rather think that we look at the 
 great crowd of people a good deal as you look 
 at the sea. When you talk of nature and its 
 beauties as if they had nothing to do with 
 a city, you don't seem to think that there is 
 such a thing as human nature at all." 
 
 " Very true, Miss Rogers," said George ; " we 
 don't always think of that." 
 
 The words were simple, but he spoke them 
 in a tone of respectful attention and deference 
 which produced its effect ; his companion's face 
 relaxed a little the hardness of its lines, and 
 when she spoke again it was in a different tone
 
 48 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 of voice as she looked at George's hand still 
 bandaged in his handkerchief : " I hope your 
 hand does not pain you very much." 
 
 " Oh, no, not at all," said George ; " and I 
 ought to ask whether you were not hurt. It was 
 very selfish in me to have assumed last night 
 at the station that I was the only one who had 
 suffered." 
 
 "You were not selfish at all," said Mary 
 Rogers, in a firm but quiet tone, not as if she 
 were indignant at his thus depreciating himself, 
 but merely as if she were stating a fact con- 
 cerning which she had positive knowledge. " It 
 was a fearfully narrow escape, and at that mo- 
 ment before you caught hold of me I was 
 so sure I should be killed that I was not even 
 afraid of it. They say I ought to shudder at the 
 thought of how near I came to death, and wake 
 up with a start at night thinking of it ; except 
 just at the instant when I found myself safe on 
 the platform, I have not realized the risk at all. 
 Were you ever very near to being killed ? " 
 
 " Yes ; quite near once in my life. Would you 
 like to hear about it ? " seeing that she looked 
 interested. 
 
 " Very much, if it does not pain you to speak 
 of it."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 49 
 
 " Oh, no, not in the least," with a slight laugh. 
 " There was a large fire in the city when I was 
 a boy pretty well grown, and I rushed off to see 
 it, as I often had done before. I was old enough 
 to keep away from the engines and the firemen, 
 where I should have been scorched and drenched 
 in turn, and yet not too old to enjoy looking at 
 the fire without thinking of the harm it was 
 doing. I was in the entrance of an alley leading 
 from the street on which the burning houses 
 stood, and nearly opposite to them ; the firemen 
 had put their long ladders against the front 
 walls, and had climbed up with the hose ; some 
 of them were still on the ladders, and some 
 standing in the windows of the building playing 
 into the mass of flame and smoke inside, when 
 between the second and third stories the brick 
 wall slowly, as if a giant had pushed it, bent out 
 toward the street, and then the whole mass 
 came crashing down ; the ladders, broken to 
 pieces, and with the firemen still clinging to 
 them, were sent flying through the air half 
 across the street, while the firemen in the win- 
 dows were plunged head first into the flames. 
 The crowd, which was packed as close as men can 
 stand, gave a sound unlike any I ever have heard, 
 a sort of low groan, and fell back. The 
 4
 
 50 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 man behind me tumbled down ; I was tripped 
 across his legs and fell on him in the gutter ; 
 three or four others were thrown across us, and 
 the crowd still fell back. I was thinking of all 
 the stories I had read in which people were 
 crushed to death, when I heard the rush and 
 clatter of an engine whose horses were running 
 away up the street toward us. There was an 
 engine-house in the alley where I had fallen, 
 and for an instant I had to wait before I knew 
 if the horses would turn in and drag their 
 engine over us. They went by, and the crowd, 
 which had got over its fright, stood still and 
 pulled us to our feet. I thought, as you just 
 said, that I should dream of falling walls, and 
 the air filled with ladders and firemen ; but the 
 recollection never gave me more than a pleasant 
 excitement when I told the story. A week 
 afterwards a little child fell on the sidewalk and 
 crushed its face ; it was taken up and carried 
 off to the hospital. I did not get over the sight 
 of it for a fortnight." 
 
 They had been walking on through the woods, 
 and had now come out in sight of the village, 
 within a few steps of Mr. Rogers's house. Mary 
 had been listening, her face gradually lighting 
 up with warm interest, until George spoke of
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 51 
 
 the child's hurt, when, instead of the disgust 
 and horror which the recollection still caused 
 in him, her features, which were naturally rather 
 stern, softened into an expression of pity which 
 made George think her more beautiful than ever, 
 an impression which was strengthened by the 
 tone of her voice as she said : " Poor child ! 
 Yes ; I guess our hearts are not large enough 
 to hold the sympathy we ought to have when 
 a ship goes down with all on board, but we 
 can pity a child whose doll has tumbled into 
 the well." 
 
 There was a short pause until they reached 
 the gate of the yard before the house ; Mary 
 moved as if to go on up the road, and George 
 turned to leave her. Raising his hat, he said in 
 a voice which showed how hard it was for him 
 to pay a compliment, and yet which added to 
 its value by demonstrating its rarity: "Thank 
 you for showing me the way, and for giving 
 me several things to think about." 
 
 She met his salutation with a bow which was 
 as free from embarrassment as that with which 
 she first had greeted him, and went on up the 
 street.
 
 52 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 IV. 
 
 WHEN George came into the room, he 
 found Roger sitting there. The latter 
 hardly gave George time to close the door 
 before he burst out : " At last you are un- 
 masked, friend Marlow ; you, the bashful young 
 man, who cannot talk to ladies, forsooth, because 
 you are so shy, you have n't the least difficulty 
 in making the acquaintance of a village beauty 
 long before I, who pass in the world for a gay 
 Lothario, have found out her name. Allow 
 me to congratulate you as I retire from the 
 contest." 
 
 George stopped and blushed, then said, " Oh, I 
 had forgotten that you did not know it was Miss 
 Mary Rogers whom I pulled away from the train 
 yesterday." 
 
 Roger fairly jumped. "What, have we here 
 a real romance ? A gentleman saves a lady 
 from destruction ; he meets her unexpectedly and 
 escorts her home, making his adieu with the
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 53 
 
 devotion of a Spanish hidalgo saluting his queen. 
 I say, George, old boy, you ought to thank me 
 for suggesting that we should take up our abode 
 here, and so giving you ample chance for flirta- 
 tion. Let me speak to the fascinating Mary now 
 and then, will you ? " 
 
 " I have no intention of flirting with Miss 
 Rogers," said George, shortly. 
 
 " No, certainly not, of course ; but how do you 
 reconcile the ease with which you talked to the 
 heroine just now, and the shyness you tell me 
 so much about ?" 
 
 George said nothing, and went on into his 
 own room. He was not less romantic than most 
 young men, and his adventure did not displease 
 him. Certainly it had not been easy to begin 
 his conversation with Miss Rogers, and yet he 
 admitted that he had been at his ease before 
 the conversation was over. In fact, so unac- 
 customed was he to pay compliments, that now 
 he almost shuddered at his own temerity. 
 
 A few moments later Roger came in, and the 
 two young men talked over their travels and 
 their college days for the rest of the evening. 
 George certainly did not dream of fires or of 
 railway accidents. Whether he dreamed of any- 
 thing else is uncertain.
 
 54 xlMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 The next morning George and Roger came 
 downstairs to a breakfast which Mrs. Rogers 
 declared was "dreadful late," though it seemed 
 very early to her guests. The table was set, 
 not in the kitchen where the family usually 
 breakfasted, but in the living-room, which led 
 out of it. This room was as neat as all the 
 rest of Mrs. Rogers's domain, which was saying 
 a good deal in its favor. Two windows looked 
 out on the bay, letting in plenty of sunlight ; on 
 the floor was a dark Kidderminster carpet ; there 
 was a table between the windows, covered with 
 an enamelled cloth of gay colors and marvel- 
 lous pattern ; the chairs were straw-bottomed, 
 and looked as if they were meant for use ; 
 there were two or three engravings cut from 
 " Harper's Weekly," mostly nautical in their 
 subjects, neatly tacked upon the walls ; and the 
 whole room had an air of cheerfulness and com- 
 fort that contrasted strongly with the look of 
 the best parlor, which was separated from it by 
 folding-doors. 
 
 These doors Mrs. Rogers had opened in honor 
 of her guests, and, as a. further mark of her es- 
 teem, had raised one of the white window-shades 
 a little, and thus let in light enough to show 
 how dark the room really was. There was a
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 55 
 
 carpet on the floor, which, to all appearance, 
 never had been trodden upon ; chairs covered 
 with horsehair upon which it seemed no human 
 creature ever had sat, arranged in those parts 
 of the room which no one but a misanthrope 
 would wish to occupy. A table stood in the 
 middle, covered with a bright red cloth ; on it 
 was a glass kerosene lamp which never had 
 been lit, through whose sides, in spite of Mrs. 
 Rogers's care, some of the oil seemed to have 
 oozed. There were perhaps a half-dozen books 
 on the table, but they looked like those one 
 sees on the stage ; for some reason or other you 
 did not connect the idea of reading with them. 
 On the walls were several works of art. There 
 was an oil-painting representing a child of un- 
 certain sex clasping a creature which those fa- 
 miliar with the artist's school would tell you was 
 a lamb, and tell you truly, because they would 
 base their opinion, not on any fancied resem- 
 blance, but on the well-known fact that lambs 
 always accompany children of that age. There 
 was also an older work, a female figure standing 
 in the shade of a singularly symmetrical weep- 
 ing-willow, resting her arm upon a large-sized 
 tombstone, on which was engraved, " Sacred to 
 the Memory of ." Doubtless it had been
 
 56 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 intended originally to fill in the blank with the 
 name of a deceased relative ; but as no relative 
 had given the owners of this picture the oppor- 
 tunity, they had not thought it right to keep 
 such a treasure hidden away until the occasion 
 should arrive. 
 
 The two young men hardly had time to see 
 these things, when Captain Rogers came in from 
 the kitchen, followed by his daughter. The 
 Captain was hardly a handsome man himself, but 
 from his looks you would instinctively suppose 
 that he had handsome daughters. He was tall, 
 very broad and strong, his hair almost white, 
 though he could not be above fifty-five years 
 old ; his face and features were large, the latter 
 strongly marked, his skin burnt brown, and so 
 tough that about his neck it lay in folds like the 
 hide of a rhinoceros ; he had keen blue eyes and 
 a deep, harsh voice. 
 
 Mrs. Rogers was bustling about at the head 
 of the table and talking to Urquhart. Just be- 
 fore they sat down, she gave an uneasy fidget, 
 and said, "Mr. Urquhart, let me make you 
 acquainted with my daughter Mary." 
 
 Roger bowed in a style just the least exag- 
 gerated, and would not appear chilled by the 
 cold " Good-morning" he got in return. As he
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 57 
 
 stepped away to his seat beside the Captain 
 (Mary had taken care to sit alone on the other 
 side), Mrs. Rogers presented George in like 
 manner, having given so much attention to 
 Urquhart's compliments as not to notice that 
 Mary and George had greeted each other quietly 
 a moment before. 
 
 George had not time to bow before his friend 
 interrupted : " There is no need of an introduc- 
 tion there, Mrs. Rogers, after what happened 
 yesterday ; and I assure you, Miss Mary, that 
 Mr. Holyoke has done nothing but congratulate 
 himself on the adventure ever since." 
 
 The consequences of his remark were hardly 
 what he expected. George and Mary both 
 blushed ; the former looked indignant, the latter 
 very much embarrassed. On the faces of Cap- 
 tain Rogers and his wife appeared the most un- 
 feigned astonishment, astonishment, which, in 
 the case of the Captain, did not seem very agree- 
 able. Mary broke the silence, looking at the 
 table, and only toward the end of the sentence 
 raising her eyes with an effort. 
 
 " Mr. Holyoke was kind enough to pull me 
 upon the platform of the depot when I had 
 slipped down in getting off the car yesterday." 
 
 "Why didn't you let me know last night,
 
 58 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 Mary ? " said the mildly complaining voice of 
 Mrs. Rogers. 
 
 George had sat still, wearing upon his face 
 that look of discomfort which belongs to a mod- 
 est man detected in a good action ; but now he 
 broke in : " Why, it was nothing, Mrs. Rogers. 
 Miss Rogers's foot slipped, and I only steadied 
 her until she stepped upon the platform ; it was 
 nothing at all." 
 
 " But it was a great deal to save my daughter 
 from being killed, and I thank you for it, sir," 
 said Captain Rogers, in his bass voice, raising 
 his huge frame from the chair and stretching 
 out his great hand across the table. There 
 was nothing for George to do but take it with 
 his unwounded left, although the Captain's cor- 
 diality well-nigh disabled him for the rest of the 
 breakfast. 
 
 The meal went on in silence, until Roger, who 
 felt himself to blame, began a conversation with 
 the Captain. They talked of the sea, and al- 
 though Roger's knowledge was of the slightest, 
 he appeared interested, and led on his host into 
 such a flow of anecdote, that the silence of the 
 rest of the party was free from awkwardness. 
 Mrs. Rogers, indeed, filled all possible gaps by 
 pressing her savory breakfast on the two young
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 59 
 
 men. An independent-looking girl waited upon 
 table, but she did not seem of much lower social 
 station than her mistress, and called Mary freely 
 by her Christian name, in fact, the latter sev- 
 eral times helped her; whereat George, who 
 often had been blamed by Roger for treating all 
 women as if they belonged to the same social 
 class, could hardly restrain himself from offering 
 his aid. 
 
 Breakfast over, Roger went upstairs for a mo- 
 ment, leaving George looking out of the window 
 at the bay. He had not been there long when 
 he heard a low voice behind him speak his name, 
 and, turning round, he saw Mary. 
 
 " I did not want you to think that I did not tell 
 my mother of your kindness yesterday because 
 I did not appreciate it. I She paused. 
 
 " I wish you would not make so much of so 
 slight a thing," said George. " Why should you 
 have spoken of it ? It was a mistake on Roger's 
 part to say anything about it." 
 
 "No, it was all right of Mr. Urquhart to speak. 
 I I really do thank you very much indeed." 
 
 George was more than ordinarily at his ease, 
 because of his companion's embarrassment, and 
 he spoke in what Roger called the Chevalier 
 Bayard tone, which he seldom was self-possessed
 
 60 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 enough to use. "Then please do not think any- 
 thing more about it ; it is I who am fortunate in 
 having had the opportunity of helping you." 
 
 "Thank you," said Mary. She still stood 
 there as if she thought it would be abrupt to 
 leave, while yet she had no reason for staying. 
 George had no more neatly turned sentences at 
 hand, and was fain to come down to the beauty 
 of the bay splashing in the morning sunshine. 
 Mary hardly had answered, when her mother's 
 voice called her just as Roger came into the 
 room. 
 
 The two friends went off to hire a sail-boat for 
 their summer's use ; within ten minutes there- 
 after the Rogers family happened to meet in the 
 kitchen just as Mrs. Thomas, a neighbor, came 
 in at the back door. 
 
 "I just stepped over to hear what kind of 
 boarders you've got, Mis' Rogers. I see two 
 young men round here yesterday ; I see they 
 was city folks. You 're going to take 'em for 
 the summer, I s'pose ? " 
 
 " Yes, I guess so," said Mrs. Rogers. " One 
 of 'em is a kind of easy, pleasant-spoken sort of 
 man ; the other one seems dreadful quiet and 
 rather stuck up. He has n't got anything to say 
 for himself ; don't you think so, Mary ? "
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 6 1 
 
 " Mr. Urquhart is rather too easy, I should 
 say ; Mr. Holyoke is very pleasant," was the 
 reply. 
 
 " Well, it 's natural you should stand up for 
 Mr. Holyoke, but I don't see why you should n't 
 like the other one," said Mrs. Rogers, bridling 
 a little as she remembered how large a part of 
 Mr. Urquhart's conversation with .her had been 
 made up of pretty direct compliments. 
 
 "I don't quite like his way, that's all," said 
 Mary. 
 
 " He's got very pleasant ways, I should say," 
 said her father. " He talks right up ; and if he 
 don't know anything about the sea, he 's mighty 
 glad to learn." 
 
 " Well, I won't keep you from your work, 
 Mis' Rogers. I only wanted to know ; don't let 
 the young fellows carry on too much, Mary." 
 Then, as Mary left the room, " She 's pretty, but 
 somehow I don't think they '11 bother her much, 
 she's too kind of top-lofty ; well, as I was say- 
 ing, I won't keep you from your work. Good 
 morning." 
 
 George and Roger spent the day in sailing 
 and fishing ; and, being refreshed by a lunch 
 which Mrs. Rogers had put up for them, did 
 not come back until tea-time, which, as it seemed
 
 62 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 to them, she had put in the middle of the after- 
 noon. Full an hour and a half of daylight was 
 still left when they had finished, and George 
 proposed another sail. 
 
 " You are too energetic," laughed Roger. 
 " Have n't I sailed all the morning and all the 
 afternoon ? I shall take a pipe and a book to 
 finish the day with." 
 
 George strolled down to the wharf by himself. 
 It was not one of those bustling, noisy, vulgar 
 wharves, built to receive cargoes of merchandise 
 from stately ships and steamers. It was very 
 small, very quiet, and very much out of repair. 
 The wooden platform was shaky in many places, 
 and actually was broken through here and there ; 
 the piles were bent in all directions, and many 
 of them had slipped away, until nothing but their 
 heads stood up above the water. An ancient 
 coaster was beached along one side ; her masts 
 still stood, but her standing rigging hung about 
 them in shreds and rags, and the tide rose and 
 fell as regularly in her hold as on the beach 
 under her bows. Along the end and the other 
 side of the wharf three or four neat cat-boats 
 were fastened, one of which George and Roger 
 had hired. 
 
 As he was walking down the hill, George
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 63 
 
 thought over a remark which Mrs. Rogers had 
 made at tea. Mary had not been there ; and, 
 in reply to a question from Urquhart, her 
 mother had said that she was gone for the 
 afternoon to Sanket, the next village on the 
 coast. 
 
 " We did not go to Sanket this morning, why 
 not go there now ? " he thought. " It can't be 
 very far off, and there is a good breeze." 
 
 When he came down to the wharf, he saw a 
 couple of men leaning against one of the great 
 mooring-posts. They had nothing to do except 
 for that indefinite employment which standing 
 on a wharf and looking at the water is supposed 
 to give. George spoke to them as he came up : 
 " Is Sanket Bay the next one to this ? " 
 
 " Yes," said one of the men. " The next bay 
 to the eastward." 
 
 " Can you tell me how I shall lay my course 
 to get there ? " 
 
 " Well, you go round that point and then 
 keep through the narrows till you get to the 
 mouth of the harbor; then you stand out to 
 sea to the suthard 'n' eastard about half a mile 
 lemme see no, the tide 's about high; you 
 can keep on over the flats close to Grassy Point, 
 and then follow the stakes."
 
 64 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 The directions were so lucid that George 
 wished to make sure of knowing Sanket when 
 he saw it. 
 
 " Is Sanket much of a place ? " he asked. 
 
 " Biggest location about here," said the other 
 man. 
 
 George thanked them for their kindness, and 
 pushed off. 
 
 " Look out for that spile there under water," 
 said the man. " Jenkins ought to have the old 
 thing fixed up." 
 
 Having heard the "spile" graze his boat's 
 side, George trimmed his sail for a run out of 
 the harbor nearly before the wind. His knowl- 
 edge of the art of sailing was very small, and the 
 way among the many flats from Stapleton to 
 Sanket was not easy to find ; but you may notice 
 that if a man will know but little enough about 
 sailing, Providence will guide him ; perhaps in 
 order to lure him on, as Fortune does those 
 young gamblers who are making their first trial 
 with the dice. George's method was very simple. 
 As soon as he had reached the first point, he 
 steered straight for Sanket, which was full in 
 sight. 
 
 He saw other boats taking elaborate and round- 
 about courses, but he did not heed them, and kept
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 65 
 
 on as if he were a steamer in mid-Atlantic, with 
 utter disregard of the " stakes," which he found 
 to be small pine poles, with a little tuft of 
 needles still left at the top. So shallow was the 
 water everywhere, that these served to mark out 
 those slight hollows in the far-reaching sand- 
 flats to which the citizens of Sanket and Staple- 
 ton gave the name of channels. As they used 
 exactly the same kind of stakes to mark out their 
 channels and their private oyster-beds, these 
 stakes were not particularly useful in guiding a 
 stranger. George congratulated himself as he 
 found that he was passing boats larger than his 
 own, while the old salts who commanded the 
 other craft were disappointed that he did not 
 pay for his rashness by sticking fast on some 
 convenient bar. The tide, however, was high, 
 the flats were covered at least two feet deep, 
 his boat drew less, and George soon found him- 
 self within hail of the wharf belonging to the 
 village of Sanket. 
 
 He saw, as he came nearer the small pier, a 
 female figure standing at its end, that seemed 
 to be looking after a boat full of laughing people 
 which he had but just passed. George's imagi- 
 nation was very vivid. He fancied that the figure 
 closely resembled Mary Rogers, and there was 
 5
 
 66 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 a moment's feeling of pride and satisfaction in 
 finding her ; although, to tell the truth, he 
 would not have admitted, even to himself, that 
 such was his object in coming to Sanket, and 
 though, beyond the satisfaction of saying "Good 
 afternoon," it was hard to see what good the 
 finding her would do him. 
 
 As the other boat receded, and George came 
 nearer, the woman turned her attention to his 
 boat ; but just as he had come near enough to 
 be almost sure that it was Mary, she turned and 
 walked briskly up the wharf. George was not 
 much behind her ; he ran his boat full into the 
 pier in a most unseamanlike fashion, and, having 
 fastened it, walked pretty rapidly up toward the 
 village of Sanket, which lay three or four hun- 
 dred yards inland, telling himself that he wished 
 to see a pretty vine-covered school-house that 
 overlooked the bay. 
 
 The woman walked on briskly until she had 
 gone some distance from the wharf, when she 
 slackened her pace. Although George gained 
 rapidly on her, she could not hear his tread on 
 the sand and loose turf ; and when he was within 
 a few feet she turned round, unconscious of his 
 presence, to look again at the bay. It was Mary. 
 She started a little on seeing him, and did not
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 67 
 
 look over well pleased. George could think of 
 no very good reason why he should stop, and 
 his embarrassment suggested that he had better 
 keep on. But it would be too absurd, after pur- 
 suing Mary all the way from Stapleton, now, 
 when great good luck had thrown her in his 
 way, to pass her without saying something; and 
 that he had come to Sanket on the chance of 
 seeing Mary, he now was suddenly driven to 
 admit. Something must be said, however, un- 
 less he meant to pass by ; for evidently she had 
 no intention of keeping on herself. 
 
 " You came over from Stapleton this morning, 
 I suppose. I was walking up to look at that 
 pretty school-house there," he said, trying to 
 appear at his ease, as the school-house expla- 
 nation occurred to him in the nick of time. 
 
 " Yes," said Mary, simply. 
 
 "And are you not going back to-night? Mrs. 
 Rogers said that she expected you." 
 
 " No, I think not." 
 
 " Can I take back any message to her from 
 you ? " said George, to whose natural embarrass- 
 ment now was added the sense that he was not 
 wanted. 
 
 " No," said Mary, doubtfully, and more ill 
 at ease than George had yet seen her ; then,
 
 68 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 speaking nervously and quickly: "Yes, if you 
 would be so good ; the truth is that I came over 
 in that boat you see out there," pointing to the 
 boat which George had noticed on coming in. 
 " They have gone off and left me, I don't know 
 why. I have cousins here, and shall pass the 
 night with them ; but as I cannot see any other 
 boat going back to-night, I would take it very 
 kindly if you would tell my mother how it is." 
 
 " Can I not take you back ? " said George, 
 rather stiffly, and wondering whether the social 
 prejudices of the people among whom he had 
 fallen would deem such an offer improper. 
 
 " No ; I 'm obliged to you. They '11 be very 
 glad to have me stay with them here ; but if you 
 would take the message " 
 
 " Certainly ; but may I not walk with you to 
 the house, so that I can tell Mrs. Rogers that I 
 left you with your friends ? " 
 
 " Yes, if you wish ; the house is just there," 
 pointing to a cottage a few rods off. 
 
 As they walked on, George, feeling that his 
 first invitation had not been very cordial, said 
 with some hesitation : " Of course you must do 
 as you like, Miss Rogers, but I should be very 
 glad if you would go back in my boat. If 
 you are afraid of my ignorance of boating, I
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 69 
 
 suppose I can get some one more experienced 
 to go with us." 
 
 George's tone and manner had been so defer- 
 ential and courteous throughout, that Mary, who 
 saw fully the delicacy of his last offer, felt that 
 she ought to show more warmth and gratitude 
 in return. 
 
 " I am really very much obliged to you, Mr. 
 Holyoke ; it 's very kind of you, but I think I 
 had better not. I shall be very comfortable here, 
 and my mother will not fret if you tell her 
 where I am." 
 
 They had come to the cottage which Mary 
 had pointed out, and had knocked once at the 
 back door, when they heard a woman's shrill 
 voice calling from the next house : " Be you 
 lookin' for Mis' Howe ? She 's gone over to 
 Jones's Neck to take care of her father." 
 
 " When will she be back ? " said Mary. 
 
 " Oh, is it you, Miss Rogers ? " said the woman, 
 coming over toward them and looking curiously 
 at George. " Adresty 's gone to look out after 
 her father ; she won't be back for a week or so. 
 I hope your health 's good. 'S your father got 
 back?" 
 
 " Yes," said Mary. Then, as the woman 
 seemed ready to continue the conversation, " I
 
 70 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 must hurry back, it is getting late ; good even- 
 ing, Mrs. Jones." And she walked away toward 
 the wharf, George following. 
 
 " I am going to accept your very kind offer, 
 Mr. Holyoke," she said as soon as they were out 
 of hearing. 
 
 " Thank you," said George ; then, doubtfully, 
 "shall I try to find a boatman ?" 
 
 " Not unless you wish. I will trust you."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 71 
 
 V. 
 
 AS he walked beside her, George felt the 
 sense of exhilaration that every chivalrous 
 man must feel when he finds himself placed with 
 a pretty girl in a situation rather romantic. He 
 certainly was not in love with Mary Rogers ; no 
 man of any depth can be really in love with a 
 girl at such short notice. But neither were the 
 knights of romance in love with all the fair ladies 
 whom they were wont to meet sitting lone in a 
 forest glade, and to whom they made such gal- 
 lant speeches ; no one but a Mormon could be. 
 Nathless, I trow the heart of such a knight beat 
 high at the smile of such a fair one, and he 
 cherished jealously that natural right of protec- 
 tion, the noblest right of men which women 
 do not share. 
 
 They embarked quickly and started for Staple- 
 ton. Scarcely were they seated, when Mary 
 said, as if by way of final explanation, "I was 
 standing on the wharf there, looking at the boat
 
 72 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 in which I came over. When I first saw your 
 boat, I did not know whose it was." 
 
 "And when you did know," said George, with 
 a boldness that surprised himself, "you walked 
 away from it as fast as you could, I think ; did 
 you not ? " 
 
 " Would you have had me do anything else ? " 
 said Mary, seriously, and as if asking a real 
 question. 
 
 "No," said George, truthfully. Then, thinking 
 it better to begin upon a subject safer even if 
 less interesting, "That is a wonderfully pretty 
 school-house there," pointing to his excuse for 
 landing at Sanket. 
 
 It was, indeed, wonderfully pretty, almost in 
 spite of itself, for it had been built originally 
 after the approved Noah's Ark pattern, so dear 
 to our Puritan ancestors. But a small rude 
 porch had been put up before the door, while 
 the whole building, with the porch and even the 
 covered windlass on the well near by, was draped 
 in woodbine, Japanese ivy, and honeysuckle. 
 
 " I am glad that you think it is pretty ; it is 
 my school-house where I teach," said Mary. 
 
 "And it is evidently your taste which has 
 made it pretty ; you had not a very promising 
 building to begin on."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 73 
 
 " It is not my taste only. Some of my boys 
 put up the porch for me, and that really is the 
 chief improvement. I thought of the vines, but 
 they helped me plant them, and one boy per- 
 suaded his father, Deacon Jones, who is on the 
 school-committee, that they would not rot the 
 shingles. The situation is good, and I try and 
 make the children notice the beauties of Nature 
 as much as you say their city visitors do." 
 
 " I see you have not forgotten that unhappy 
 speech of mine, though I think you might have 
 forgiven it for the sake of those sentiments it 
 gave you a chance to express." 
 
 " I do not want to forget it. Is n't it right to 
 ' see ourselves as others see us ' ? But, seriously, 
 Mr. Holyoke, is it quite fair to say that we do 
 not notice the beauties of Nature, while at the 
 same time you would say that we cannot appre- 
 ciate poetry and painting and so forth ? What 
 do you leave to us ? " 
 
 " Certainly, I cannot deny your appreciation 
 of poetry, Miss Rogers, for you have just quoted 
 Burns to me." 
 
 " That is not fair," said Mary, still speaking 
 slowly, but with her eyes sparkling, and lighting 
 up her face until George thought he never had 
 seen any one so pretty. " Those words are so
 
 74 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 far common property that Burns almost has lost 
 his right to them. It was only this morning 
 that I heard your friend Mr. Urquhart trying to 
 make my father talk about that picture of me in 
 the parlor; he wanted a chance to tell a good 
 story to some acquaintance, I suppose." 
 
 " Roger is " began George, indignantly. 
 
 "No, you must not blame Roger," said Mary. 
 " I saw you looking at it and smiling to think 
 how funny it was." 
 
 The charge was a true one, and George was 
 confounded. There was an instant's pause before 
 he said, "You are right, Miss Rogers ; I did, and 
 I am very sorry for it. It was an ungentlemanly 
 thing to do, and I am ashamed of myself." 
 
 Mary smiled, a smile of pleasure and amuse- 
 ment combined. 
 
 " I think you could have given a better excuse 
 for doing it than that ; namely, that you could 
 not look at the picture and keep from laughing. 
 I can't help it myself; but that does n't concern 
 what I was speaking of. You have proved that 
 we do not appreciate painting, and you say that 
 we do not see the beauties of Nature ; are you 
 trying to make it out that city people are more 
 fortunate in every way, or do you allow some 
 advantages to us ? "
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 75 
 
 " Are not content and general happiness the 
 especial advantages of the country ? It seems 
 to me that I have read as much in some of the 
 poetry which I am supposed to appreciate." 
 
 " Have you seen so little of New England 
 that you can tell me we are contented ? Can 
 you be a Yankee and think so ? I suppose 
 you are not a Yankee, though," she added. 
 
 " I hope I am. Certainly I am proud of the 
 title, as they say, and always have looked 
 on it as a sort of patent of nobility," said 
 George. 
 
 " Well, then, don't you think that ad astro, 
 per aspera would be a good comprehensive New 
 England motto (you see I know a little Latin) ? 
 And I always have thought, too, that we were 
 hardly satisfied with the astra unless we got 
 the aspera along with it. There is a verse of a 
 hymn, I don't know whether you would call it 
 poetry, 
 
 ' Must I be carried to the skies 
 
 On flowery beds of ease. 
 Whilst others fought to win the prize, 
 
 And sailed through bloody seas ? ' 
 
 I don't mean to be irreverent ; but it seems to 
 me that that is very good New England doc- 
 trine, moral as well as religious."
 
 76 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 "You are right as usual, Miss Rogers, right 
 when you defended the country yesterday, as 
 you are to-day when you attack it. I have 
 done my best to defend it, and now I am very 
 much tempted to turn round and ask you what 
 its advantages are." 
 
 " I '11 tell you one thing that we are good for," 
 said Mary, "we make excellent types. I see 
 you don't understand. Well, you people in the 
 city lead such a bustling life, you have so many 
 things to do, that your lives are complicated, 
 you are not simple, and so you are very indi- 
 vidual and many-sided. Our occupations are so 
 much more alike, and monotonous, perhaps, that 
 we do not spread out in many directions, and 
 so, being simpler, we are better types pat- 
 terns, that is for you to make books from." 
 
 George felt the ground falling away under 
 him. Certainly it was agreeable to talk with a 
 handsome girl, but this one was pressing him 
 very hard. "Are you joking, or in earnest?" 
 he said. 
 
 " Oh, I am very much in earnest," said Mary. 
 " I have seen type-hunters even in Stapleton." 
 
 " Miss Rogers, if you think " began George. 
 
 " If I thought, Mr. Holyoke, that you were 
 acting in that way, do you suppose I should
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 77 
 
 speak to you as I did just now. If you had 
 been a type-hunter, you would have compli- 
 mented me by saying that my type was a very 
 charming one, instead of asking a straightfor- 
 ward question. No ; it is because I am very sure 
 that you are not, that I well, I suppose I may 
 as well tell the truth. I have been called a type. 
 True, it was the highest type, he was kind enough 
 to say ; and I beg your pardon for having vented 
 my feelings on you who, I am sure, are not in 
 the least to blame." 
 
 " You might revenge yourself by considering 
 that ' he/ whoever he was, is a very complete 
 type of a very impertinent snob." 
 
 " ' He' was a summer boarder at the hotel, and 
 I heard him talking to a friend of his as he walked 
 behind me to church. I could think whatever 
 I pleased about him, but there was not much 
 consolation in that, and there was no one with 
 me to whom I could tell my opinion of him 
 even if it would have been womanly to do so," 
 she added, after an instant's pause. 
 
 George was busied for a few moments in 
 hauling the sheet close and altering the boat's 
 course ; then he said, " I hope you will excuse 
 me for saying so, Miss Rogers, but why is it 
 so disagreeable to be looked on as a type ? It
 
 78 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 seems to me that I should enjoy posing in that 
 character." 
 
 " Oh, the man was not really to blame," said 
 Mary, " only he should not have spoken quite so 
 loud. It was perfectly natural ; I have felt the 
 same way when I was staying at my aunt's in 
 the city, and was walking about on Sunday in 
 the fashionable streets for of course my aunt 
 did not live in a fashionable street," she said 
 proudly. " They were full of people that I did 
 not know, and as they walked slowly up and 
 down, the gentlemen taking off their hats to the 
 ladies with a solemn face, and the ladies meeting 
 the gentlemen with a regulation smile, somehow 
 I could not look on them as if they were real 
 living people, though I was very much interested 
 in them." 
 
 " In other words," said George, " that which 
 is perfectly proper for young ladies from the 
 country to do when they go to the city, is very 
 improper for young gentlemen from the city to 
 do when they come into the country." 
 
 Mary neither blushed nor smiled ; she only 
 looked thoughtful, and it was some time before 
 she spoke. " I am afraid that you are right, 
 Mr. Holyoke. I wanted very much to know 
 what those people really were like, and, as I
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 79 
 
 could not find out in any other way, I supposed 
 that to walk up and down as they were doing 
 when I saw them was somehow typical ; just as 
 the young man from the city thought he knew 
 something about me when he saw me walking 
 to church. I am wrong, and I suppose I ought 
 to promise I will not do it any more." 
 
 " I have said that I should enjoy posing as a 
 type. It would give me a sense of importance 
 which would be very pleasant, and if it could 
 afford you any satisfaction you are welcome to 
 study me in that character as much as you 
 please." 
 
 " And I suppose your offer means that you 
 are to study me in the same way. Well, I don't 
 know that I can object after what I have just 
 admitted." 
 
 " You misconstrue my offer. If I were not 
 averse to paying compliments, and if I did not 
 believe that you objected to hearing them, I 
 should say that to consider Miss Rogers a type 
 of the young ladies of Stapleton would be an 
 undeserved compliment to them." 
 
 " Thank you for not complimenting me," said 
 Mary ; "but I am afraid excuse me for saying 
 so that if we keep on in this direction much 
 longer we shall be aground."
 
 80 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 Bump, bump, bump, g-r-r-r-r-r thump, and 
 Mary's prediction was verified. The boat had 
 stuck hard and fast on a sand-bar, thereby afford- 
 ing a moment of exquisite and unmixed delight 
 to the skipper of the other sail-boat, who had fol- 
 lowed the roundabout channel, and who had feared 
 that by undeserved good luck George might cross 
 the flats and reach Stapleton before him. 
 
 " I am very sorry," said George, much dis- 
 mayed. 
 
 "Oh, there's nothing to be sorry about. 
 There's no harm done," said Mary, laughing. 
 " We don't consider, down here, that an excur- 
 sion is complete unless we get aground once or 
 twice." 
 
 George took an oar to shove the boat off, but 
 unsuccessfully ; she would not move. Then he 
 sprang into the water, which was not much above 
 his knees. He began by trying to push the boat 
 against the wind without lowering the sail, a 
 feat often essayed by the enthusiastic summer 
 boarder, but which never has been accomplished 
 as yet. Mary looked on, recognizing this, for a 
 minute or two ; then she could bear it no longer. 
 
 " Would n't she go off easier if you pushed on 
 the other side, Mr. Holyoke?" 
 
 " How ? " said George, nettled, as all ignorant
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 8 1 
 
 men are, on getting advice from those who know 
 better (it is only the wise who are willing to be 
 taught), and giving another powerful but futile 
 shove to the boat. 
 
 " This way," said Mary, standing up and show- 
 ing him, while at the same time she trimmed 
 the sail to aid his efforts. The boat's head was 
 pushed slowly around, and at last she started so 
 suddenly that George almost lost his hold, and 
 barely scrambled into the boat wet and dripping. 
 
 " I am very sorry that you have had so much 
 trouble on my account again," said Mary. 
 
 " Miss Rogers, again I will eschew flattery, 
 and will not tell you that such trouble would be 
 pleasure. I will say simply that when I helped 
 you at the station it was no trouble at all, and 
 that just now it was you who taught me how to 
 get out of a scrape ; for I never should have got 
 away from that sand-bank if I had been alone. 
 And as a further proof of my humiliation, I must 
 ask you to tell me how I am to get to Stapleton ; 
 for it seems to me that the whole ocean here is 
 one vast shoal." 
 
 "We ought to go in that direction first," said 
 Mary, pointing to a distant spot on the beach ; 
 "then, in a moment, we should keep closer in 
 shore." 
 
 6
 
 82 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 "No doubt it is very stupid of me," said 
 George, giving voice to the last remnant of his 
 irritation, " but I do not see how you find your 
 way about here ; it is very confusing." 
 
 " My father taught me when I was a young 
 girl," said Mary, " and really I am quite at home 
 in a boat. You must not consider me a type, 
 though," she added, with a smile. " We are not 
 a race of water Amazons." 
 
 There was a pause of two or three minutes as 
 George strove to carry out Mary's directions. 
 
 " How well the music sounds coming across 
 the water ! " said he, breaking the silence. The 
 sun had set, the wind had died almost away, 
 and the moon was rising red behind them. The 
 other boat, more skilfully managed, was now very 
 near Stapleton, and from it, over the water, came 
 women's voices singing " Pull for the Shore," 
 and other tunes from the Moody and Sankey 
 collection, tunes simple, easily learned, so 
 spirited that one is tempted to sing them on 
 all occasions, yet possessing such a religious 
 flavor that the singer believes he is thereby 
 training his soul as well as his lungs. The 
 women's voices might have sounded harsh and 
 nasal if George had been with them ; as it was, 
 the distance made them soft and full. He turned
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 83 
 
 to Mary. " Will you not answer them ? " he 
 said. 
 
 She began almost immediately in a clear con- 
 tralto voice. George had wondered what she 
 would choose ; but he was surprised when she 
 sang an old Scotch ballad which he often had 
 heard from his mother in his childhood. At the 
 second verse George joined in. The melody 
 itself was rather sad ; and George's voice, though 
 neither remarkable nor well trained, showed his 
 feeling so plainly, that Mary turned to him when 
 they had finished, saying in a tone of slight sur- 
 prise : " I did not suppose you had ever heard 
 that before ; I found it in an old music-book lying 
 under an old spinet in my grandfather's house at 
 Wilson's Neck. I liked it and I learned it ; but 
 I had no idea it was a fashionable song." 
 
 " It is n't," said George. " I know it by heart. 
 I heard it from my mother as a child." 
 
 He did not say that his mother was dead ; but 
 from the way in which he spoke, Mary thought 
 best to say no more about it. They kept on 
 in silence for a few minutes longer, till they 
 reached the old wharf at Stapleton. 
 
 " Can I help you tie her up ? " said Mary, 
 springing upon the pier. 
 
 " When the vessel reaches the wharf, I believe
 
 84 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 the pilot's duties are over," said George ; " at least, 
 I think I have read so much in nautical novels, 
 I can't say that I speak from experience. Never- 
 theless, if the pilot would be so kind as to see if 
 the able-bodied seaman (I think that is the word) 
 has tied a knot that will hold, the able-bodied 
 seaman will be grateful." 
 
 Mary laughed ; when a voice was heard out 
 of the darkness, farther up the wharf: "Mary 
 Rogers, is that you ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Mary, not very cheerfully. 
 
 " Well, how on earth did you get over here ? " 
 said a girl somewhat younger than Mary, walking 
 quickly toward her. " I thought you was going 
 to stay over to Sanket to Adresty's." 
 
 " Not at all," said Mary, indignantly. " Adresta 
 has gone to her father's, and I never thought of 
 staying there until after you had gone off and 
 left me." 
 
 " Well, don't get mad about it, Mary ! I guess 
 you did n't find it so disagreeable coming back 
 with this gentleman." 
 
 They were walking up the wharf. Mary's 
 face was turned away from the girl, toward 
 George, and he could see that at this her eyes 
 flashed and her face flushed, more with anger 
 than with embarrassment. George wished to save
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 85 
 
 her the need of reply, but he could not think of 
 the right thing to say on the spur of the mo- 
 ment, and, while he was racking his brain, Mary 
 said quietly, " Mr. Holyoke was kind enough to 
 bring me back, but I am sorry to have troubled 
 him, and you ought to have waited for me." 
 
 " I guess he did n't mind the trouble very 
 much ; did you now, Mr. Holyoke ? " said the 
 girl, with a slight giggle. 
 
 " I was very glad to be of service to Miss 
 Rogers," said George, stiffly. 
 
 They had reached the head of the wharf, from 
 which two roads led, one up a slight incline by 
 Captain Rogers's house, which was only a few rods 
 distant ; the other to the left, along the shore. 
 
 " If you will excuse me, Miss Rogers," said 
 George, turning to the left, " I think I shall take 
 a stroll before coming in." 
 
 He walked away, Mary giving him a look of 
 gratitude as they separated. He had not gone 
 five steps, before he heard the voice of Mary's 
 companion raised in remonstrance. "Why 
 did n't you introduce him, Mary Rogers ? You 
 must have had a dreadful stupid time com- 
 ing all the way with him from Sanket." When 
 Mary answered, he was too far off to hear what 
 she said.
 
 86 DIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 He walked briskly along, his mind full of what 
 had happened. The smile which Mary had given 
 him at parting convinced him that he had done 
 right in leaving her alone to contend with her 
 friend, and, as a whole, his adventure pleased 
 him. But when he came to run over in his 
 mind the things he had said to Miss Rogers, he 
 was amazed ; he could not imagine how he had 
 been so bold. He remembered how hard it had 
 been for him to find material for the first two or 
 three sentences, and he remembered how soon 
 he had been at his ease : nay, more ; as far as he 
 could judge, he had gone through his share of 
 the conversation with credit, almost as well, 
 indeed, as Roger or Harry Larkyns could have 
 done. True, a great deal of the credit belonged 
 to Miss Rogers, but he could not help taking 
 some of it himself. Then he naturally fell into 
 a contemplation of Mary's charms, both personal 
 and mental ; and so, wrapped in pleasant revery, 
 he strolled along in the moonlight, forgetting 
 how the time passed. But all reveries have an 
 end ; and at last he turned back to the house, 
 where he underwent more raillery from Roger, 
 raillery which he took very quietly and easily, for 
 he had expected it ever since he left Sanket.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 87 
 
 VI. 
 
 r I ^HREE or four days passed away. George 
 -*- and Roger spent them on the water, sailing 
 and fishing ; or they went to one of the many 
 ponds lying amidst the woods which surround 
 Stapleton, trolling or casting a fly for the black 
 bass ; or, best of all, in the freshness of the 
 early morning, when the long summer's day, 
 shaking off the dew, arouses himself to run his 
 race, or in the afternoon when, wearied, he lies 
 down to rest, hushed by the rippling water and 
 soothed by the fragrance of the woods, they 
 tempted the trout from some dark hole under 
 the bank of a clear brook. They had not come 
 to Stapleton to train or to exercise their minds. 
 Neither of them cared for any society beyond 
 that of the other ; and, even as to that, it was 
 society rather than conversation which they 
 wished, and often they were together for hours 
 in their boat, one sailing, the other fishing, with- 
 out speaking a word beyond what their sport
 
 88 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 required. Nevertheless, apart from breakfast 
 and tea, when he sat opposite Mary, George 
 had seen her several times within these three or 
 four days, once, when he had found her in the 
 evening sitting in the best parlor, reading Mil- 
 ton, and in the course of the conversation made 
 the humiliating discovery that she knew more 
 about " Paradise Lost" than he did ; again, one 
 morning, when he had risen unusually early, and 
 found her picking flowers for the breakfast-table, 
 in the trig little flower-beds beside the brick 
 walk leading from the street to the house. It 
 was a glorious morning, before the freshness had 
 been rubbed off ; and she made such a pretty 
 picture rising up from among the flowers, with 
 the blue water of the bay as a background, that 
 George remembered it long afterwards quite as 
 distinctly as any picture in Paris or Rome. 
 
 Another time they had drifted George could 
 not tell exactly how into a conversation, al- 
 most a discussion, about society. Of society, as 
 George was accustomed to see the word inter- 
 preted, Mary, of course, knew little, almost noth- 
 ing beyond what she had read. In her reading 
 she could not always distinguish the true from 
 the false ; and some of her mistakes betrayed 
 George's face into something so near a smile,
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 89 
 
 that Mary found him out, and insisted that her 
 blunders should be explained to her. But though 
 she knew hardly anything of what society was, 
 she had ideas of what it ought to be, all the 
 more original and free from prejudice because 
 of her ignorance; so that George, who was at 
 just the age when men find out that society is 
 built on very false principles, welcomed her as a 
 kindred spirit. She was unconventional ; not of 
 that cheap unconventionality which consists in 
 walking through the gutter in order to avoid the 
 conventionality of the sidewalk : her ideas, not 
 her manners, were original. George believed 
 himself rather a clever man, and was glad of the 
 necessity, which, in talking with Mary, forced 
 him to give up the ordinary small talk of society, 
 in which he never was very fluent, for conver- 
 sation where words and ideas counted for their 
 intrinsic and not for their conventional value. 
 
 " Most of our talk at parties," he said to 
 Roger one evening as they were smoking in 
 their room, " is like paper money. By a fashiona- 
 ble understanding, certain sentences are supposed 
 to represent ideas ; they are social tender, so to 
 speak, and there are so many of them that con- 
 versation is terribly inflated. We ought to get 
 back to a solid basis ; it's true we should feel
 
 90 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 very poor for a time, but it would be better for 
 us in the long run." Roger agreed ; but he 
 said to himself that George's regard for Mary 
 Rogers was taking on a dangerous form which 
 he did not at all approve. 
 
 George had been four or five days in Stapleton, 
 when one evening he bethought him of a prom- 
 ise he had made to write to his cousin Ann 
 Brattle. The lamp in his room upstairs did not 
 give him light enough, and so he went down 
 into the parlor, which Mrs. Rogers had left open 
 since the young men had come to the house, 
 contrary to her usual fashion. Now that it was 
 lived in, it had put on, perforce, a less uncom- 
 fortable look than when George saw it on the 
 first morning of his visit. As he came into the 
 room, he found Mary writing at the table. 
 
 " Don't let me disturb you," he said. " I have 
 my duty to get through. I hope you don't find 
 letter-writing such an infliction as I do." 
 
 " I am afraid I do," said Mary ; " I have owed 
 this one for some time." Her letter was to her 
 cousin in the city: 
 
 DEAR MARIANNE, I ought to have answered your 
 last letter long before this, and I must ask you to for- 
 give me for having put it off so long ; really forgive 
 me, I mean, so that you will write as if I had been
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 91 
 
 always punctual. I have been quite busy for the last 
 few days. I have my school to get ready for, and we 
 have taken two boarders. They are young men from 
 the city, and they belong, as your father used to say, 
 " to A i families, and no mistake." I did not mean for 
 us to take them ; but mother and father both thought it 
 was best, and you, who know how easily I give up try- 
 ing to have my own way, will not be surprised that they 
 came. One of them would do very well for the hero, 
 or the villain, of one of those novels we used to read. 
 He has a dark complexion, a piercing eye ; he is very 
 good looking, is never at a loss for a pretty speech, and 
 parts his back hair most exquisitely. He won my 
 mother's heart in five minutes, and my father's in half 
 an hour. I do not like him. I do not know how I can 
 explain it to you, but he is rude to me by being too 
 polite ; he thinks that I cannot see the politeness of a 
 man's look or tone of voice, but must needs be treated 
 to a stare, or a high-flavored compliment. The best 
 thing that I know of him is that he is the friend of our 
 other boarder, Mr. Holyoke, who is a very different 
 sort of man. Mother and father think he is stuck up, 
 and certainly he does not talk to them very much ; but 
 then, he never makes fun of them, which Mr. Urquhart 
 does very often. He has talked several times to me, 
 and I feel as if I knew him quite well. He is very 
 kind, and I do not think he would hurt the feelings of 
 a fly, intentionally ; though, as he is rather clumsy, he 
 might trample on a few by mistake, now and then. 
 You know I always talk out pretty freely, and you should 
 see Mr. Holyoke when I start some new idea. It takes
 
 9 2 
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 him some little time to get his mind headed in the 
 right direction, and he seems to have something like 
 shyness to get over before he is ready for action ; then 
 he listens to whatever I have to say, with a look as if 
 it was all very fine, and was producing a great effect on 
 him, although he might not be able quite to agree with 
 me in the end. Then he begins to talk, and, I tell 
 you, he talks well. He isn't solemn, either, all the 
 time ; though you might think so from what I have 
 said. Sometimes he even makes fun of me a little ; but 
 he does it very respectfully, in a sort of timid way, 
 which makes it all the funnier. He is writing a letter 
 in the room now, and probably is trying to tell his 
 correspondent about me. I should like to know what 
 he is saying ; on the whole, though, I rather think he 
 is treating me better than I have treated him, for he is 
 so very modest that I do not believe he would even 
 speak of me by my Christian name. Give my love to 
 your father and mother. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 MARY ROGERS. 
 
 Meantime George was struggling with his 
 letter to Ann Brattle. He did not write very 
 easily ; first he looked at the ceiling, then drove 
 his pen over the paper as if his ideas were flow- 
 ing too fast for him, then again the stream 
 suddenly ran dry and left him stranded in the 
 middle of a page. At last, with a sigh of relief,
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 93 
 
 he rapidly signed his name and addressed the 
 letter to his cousin. It was as follows: 
 
 DEAR ANN, You ought to be very grateful and 
 thankful to me on receiving this letter, for I assure you 
 that I do not want to write it. Now, where is the sat- 
 isfaction in getting a letter which some one has written 
 to you for his own amusement? Whereas, a letter 
 which involves a sacrifice in the writing, there is a 
 compliment for you. Seriously, my cousin asked me 
 to write to her, and, as I believe she wishes to hear from 
 me, while it is always pleasant to me to hear from her, 
 I am writing ; but she must not expect a long or an 
 interesting letter. We are settled at Stapleton, and 
 loafing energetically. We are not at the hotel, but at a 
 house in the village, which is much more comfortable. 
 We get up early in the morning, very early, I assure 
 you, and do nothing in particular all day long. Never- 
 theless, I am enjoying myself, and like the life. Hoping 
 that you are to pay a visit to JVIrs. Standish later in the 
 summer, when I may have the pleasure of seeing you, 
 
 I am 
 
 Your affectionate cousin, 
 
 GEORGE HOLYOKE. 
 
 Looking up after he had addressed the letter, 
 George saw that Mary also had finished, and was 
 reading. She did not seem absorbed in her 
 book, for, on hearing him move, she looked up 
 and caught his eye, then smiled and turned 
 again to her reading. George spoke, however.
 
 94 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " Is it Milton again, may I ask ? " 
 
 "No," said Mary, closing the book. "A novel 
 that I got from the library to-day. A modern 
 English society novel, I believe they call it." 
 
 " A library ! " said George. " Have you a 
 library in Stapleton ? " 
 
 " Yes, and a very good one. An old whaling 
 captain who had made a good deal of money 
 and never was married, left the larger part of 
 what belonged to him to found a town library. 
 It 's rather a grand thing to do ; don't you think 
 so, Mr. Holyoke ? He had had just a little com- 
 mon schooling when he was a child, I suppose ; 
 but he followed the sea from the time when he was 
 a boy of thirteen until he was too old for work. 
 He must have got very little good out of books 
 in his life ; and yet he knew so well what they 
 were worth, that he left all his money to buy 
 them." 
 
 " When your father has been speaking," said 
 George, " I often have thought how much the 
 whalers are like the old Norse sea-kings. Most 
 seamen, even though they are on the sea the 
 larger part of their lives, always are sailing 
 straight from port to port ; but the whalers are 
 like the vikings, they live in their ships, and go 
 where the booty is the richest. They go ashore
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 95 
 
 now and then, only when they have more spoil 
 aboard than their ships will hold. The vikings, 
 too, used to found convents with their plun- 
 der, and they would stand for a town library, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " I rather think, though," said Mary, " that 
 the vikings built those convents for their own 
 good, while old Captain Farley left his money 
 for that of other people. Captain Farley would 
 be surprised, and I am afraid he would be 
 shocked," she went on, " if he could see what 
 books his money is used to buy, a good 
 deal as your vikings would have been, if 
 they had come to see the convents fifty years 
 afterward." 
 
 " Yes," said Roger, who had just come into 
 the room, " the captain's idea of literature con- 
 sisted of good sound positive theological trea- 
 tises for a solid basis, and a light superstructure 
 of sermons with an occasional poem about the 
 place we don't want to go to, by way of belles 
 lettres, I suppose. Don't you think, Miss Rogers, 
 it is rather anomalous that the new books of a 
 library should be the very ones that the old 
 books caution everybody against reading ; or 
 do you look on each as a safe antidote for the 
 other ? "
 
 96 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " You don't do justice to the people who lived 
 in Captain Farley's time," said Mary. " Long 
 before that, nearly a hundred years ago, we had 
 a circulating library in Stapleton. I suppose 
 that people did n't read books for amusement 
 then as much as they do now, but the library 
 took travels and essays, and now and then even 
 what I suppose we should call a novel ; they 
 generally called it a tale." 
 
 " Miss Rogers, allow me humbly to apologize. 
 Hereafter I promise that I will remember Staple- 
 ton in seventeen hundred and eighty as an oasis 
 in an intellectual desert, as a beacon of civilization 
 to mankind. I hope so humble a recantation 
 satisfies you." 
 
 " No ; for they had libraries just like that in 
 a good many of the other villages," said Mary, 
 trying to look amused, but without very good 
 success. Then turning round so as to face 
 Roger, she went on : " After all, Mr. Urquhart, 
 we don't read books for the sake of the books 
 themselves, but because we are to be helped by 
 them, I suppose ; and our grandfathers turned 
 out pretty well. I don't know, though," she 
 said, pausing, " whether you are as proud of 
 your Yankee blood as Mr. Holyoke is." 
 
 The speech was unfortunate. Roger's grand-
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 97 
 
 father had been a Scotchman, without money, 
 education, or position, but with all the thrift 
 and all the shrewdness which tradition allots to 
 his race. He had come to this country a poor 
 boy ; had married, when in middle life, a wife of 
 better social position than his own ; and had died 
 respected by every one, mourned by long obitu- 
 ary notices in the daily papers, and leaving to 
 his son, still a very young man, money enough 
 to enter the fashionable race with a good 
 chance of getting well toward the front in 
 thirty years or so, if he made the most of 
 himself in the mean time. That son, Roger's 
 father, went to college, married, soon after he 
 graduated, a young lady who would make his 
 children the relatives of two thirds of their 
 polite acquaintance, and being so fortunate as 
 to have neither brother, sister, uncle, nor aunt, 
 died in the odor of fashion, leaving Roger his 
 only child. Roger had the good sense not to 
 claim descent from Mac Diarmid FitzUrquhart, 
 a distinguished nobleman and brigand of the 
 time of Robert Bruce, and so escaped being 
 called an upstart ; still, it was not pleasant to 
 have his birth compared with that of George 
 Holyoke, whose ancestors had been parsons, 
 judges, and governors of the Puritan colony 
 7
 
 98 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 under the Georges. He was nettled, and yet 
 could not speak out what he felt, when the girl 
 whom George had seen at the wharf on the 
 night of his return from Sanket came into the 
 room. Mary rose to receive her ; but after get- 
 ting well past the threshold, Miss Jane Thomas 
 suddenly stopped, with an appearance of much 
 confusion. 
 
 " Oh, dear me, Mary, I did n't know as you 
 had company ! I saw a light in the window, 
 and just ran over for a minute. Mother's gone 
 to class-meetin' ; but " with an arch look 
 " mebbe I 'd better go home." 
 
 "Not at all," said Mary, with some harshness 
 in her tone in spite of herself. " Sit down, Jane. 
 I am glad to see you." 
 
 As Jane evidently had made up her mind to 
 stay, Mary presented to her both George and 
 Roger with as much grace as she could com- 
 mand. George had intended to leave the room ; 
 but Roger had decided, in the first place, that 
 his friend should stay, and, in the second place, 
 that he should talk to Jane. An accomplished 
 ball-room tactician, he probably would have 
 been able to carry out his plans against the 
 wishes of all three of his companions, but, to 
 his surprise, Mary came to his assistance, and
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 99 
 
 George found himself face to face with Miss 
 Thomas. 
 
 She did not greatly care which of the young 
 men fell to her, and though she generously would 
 have surrendered to Mary the hero of the moon- 
 light excursion from Sanket, she took what the 
 gods gave her, and was content. George, per- 
 haps, was disgusted in spirit ; but Mary admired 
 him for the look of somewhat helpless cour- 
 tesy with which he met Jane's greetings. Jane 
 Thomas was a plump but rather sallow young 
 woman, with sandy hair, small bright eyes, and a 
 shrill piercing voice. If George was at a loss 
 how to begin the conversation, at least she saved 
 him the awkwardness of a pause. 
 
 " Two 's enough and three 's too many, they 
 say, Mr. Holyoke, don't they ? " 
 
 " I believe they do," said George. 
 
 " Then you 'd ought to be thankful to me for 
 coming, had n't you ? For you were three when I 
 got here, and now we 're two twos, which is twice 
 as good as one two, I guess. There, I 've been 
 paying compliments to myself, and self-praise 
 goes but little ways." 
 
 " Oh, not at all," said George, vaguely wonder- 
 ing what the proper answer was. 
 
 " Well, you 're very kind, I'm sure; and how
 
 100 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 do you like Stapleton ? I suppose it does n't 
 seem very much of a place after the city ; but we 
 think considerable of it. There's some pretty 
 girls in it, any way, ain't there ? " with a nod 
 toward Mary. 
 
 "Yes," said George, thinking it his duty to 
 imply by a motion of his head that Miss Thomas 
 was of the number. She blushed and giggled, 
 pretending to study the carpet ; but she did not 
 think it necessary to take very much notice of 
 the compliment, for she looked up in an instant, 
 and began again with great vivacity, 
 
 " There, Mr. Holyoke, I 'd almost forgotten. 
 Won't you come and sing in our church choir ? 
 I heard you singing with Mary the other night 
 on the water. We need you to sing, for most of 
 our young men are away in the summer. I like 
 men's voices so much. Mary goes, and it's 
 very good fun up in the choir." 
 
 "I really have no voice," said George,; "but 
 if" 
 
 " That '11 do, that '11 do," said Jane ; " and mind 
 you, Mr. Holyoke, you must n't pay all your 
 attention to Mary ; I shall expect part of it, 
 quite a good part, too." 
 
 George bowed, and tried to smile and to look 
 pleased. He seemed to succeed, for Miss Thomas
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. ioi 
 
 went on with fresh vigor : " Yes, you 'd really 
 better, for you know Mary there, there 's 
 mother just going into the house. She '11 
 wonder where I am. I must go home right 
 off." And she rose to leave. ' 
 
 Meantime Roger and Mary were talking to- 
 gether on the other side of the table. Roger had 
 had time, before he sat down, to cover up the 
 traces of his momentary vexation, and it was in 
 rather a languid tone that he spoke to Mary. 
 
 " Of course it is de rigueur, Miss Rogers, to 
 admire the Puritans, and all that sort of thing ; 
 but sometimes I feel myself strongly inclined to 
 uplift my voice against worshipping them, don't 
 you ? " 
 
 " Not that I know of," said Mary. " How ? 
 I am afraid that I do not understand you." 
 
 " Why, this," said Roger. " What did they do, 
 after all ? They came to a bleak climate for the 
 sake of satisfying what I suppose we all should 
 agree was an over-scrupulous conscience. At 
 least, that was the reason which they gave; I 
 always believed that they came to get the chance 
 of burning, torturing, and generally maltreating 
 other people rather more cruelly than they them- 
 selves had been maltreated in England. And 
 what did they gain by it ? Were they any
 
 102 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 happier for it all or are we ? Go through any 
 little Italian town and see the people there, 
 basking in the sun, enjoying their own exist- 
 ence, if they have nothing else to enjoy. Of 
 course, if Miss Rogers undertakes the defence 
 of the Puritans, it is useless for me to contend 
 with her ; but I wished to offer these few con- 
 siderations to her before she gave judgment, 
 and to beg her to do justice to my friends the 
 Italians, with whose beauty she is endowed so 
 richly. If she decides against me, of course I 
 submit, as I did before." 
 
 He spoke the last words in that tone of exag- 
 gerated compliment which Mary had complained 
 of in the letter she had just written, and it was 
 with some spirit that she answered : " As one of 
 the common people of America, Mr. Urquhart, 
 I will not allow that the people of a little 
 Italian town are better off than those of a little 
 American one." 
 
 " I am sure that Miss Rogers will pardon me 
 if I protest against the truth of her first state- 
 ment, and I hope she will be so good as to 
 explain to me in what respect the Americans 
 are the better off," said Roger, in his blandest 
 tones. 
 
 " Why, we are better fed, better clothed, and
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 103 
 
 more civilized ; yes, and we are better taught, 
 too, though I say it, who am a school-teacher," 
 said Mary, smiling. 
 
 "No doubt. But how are we the better off, 
 if, in spite of all our advantages, as we call 
 them, they are happier than we ? Does n't it 
 look as if our advantages were drawbacks in 
 disguise ? What good does our civilization, 
 yes, and honesty forces me to add, what good 
 does even our schooling do for us, without 
 enjoyment ? " 
 
 He spoke with a mocking inflection that ex- 
 asperated Mary past endurance. 
 
 "What good would our enjoyment do for us 
 if we were like beasts ? Mr. Urquhart, of course 
 you are joking," Roger made a sign of protest, 
 but she went on as if she did not see it, " so, in 
 the same kind of joke I must ask you why my 
 father's pig is n't a good deal better off than 
 your Italians ; for his life seems to be one of per- 
 fect enjoyment, while I suppose that even the 
 Italians have thoughts to trouble them some- 
 times. They enjoy their own existence if they 
 have nothing else to enjoy; he goes one step 
 farther, and enjoys it because he has nothing 
 else to enjoy." 
 
 Roger looked surprised, but he had only time
 
 104 DIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 to say, "Very true ; suppose we continue the dis- 
 cussion on that basis," when he was interrupted 
 by Jane's rising to go. 
 
 " Good evening, Mary," she said, going up to 
 her. " I 've persuaded Mr. Holyoke to sing in 
 the choir. I wish the other gentleman would 
 join too." 
 
 " How could I, when you have wounded my 
 feelings so deeply by forgetting even my name ? " 
 said Roger. 
 
 " I have n't forgotten yours any more than 
 you have mine," said Jane, blushing, but trying 
 to put a good face on it. 
 
 "Miss Thomas, how can you accuse me of 
 forgetting a name so deeply graven on my 
 memory ? " 
 
 " Well, then, you '11 come ? " said Jane, think- 
 ing it best to drop the discussion. 
 
 " No," said Roger, hastily, " I can't sing. 
 Besides," he went on, as he followed her to 
 the door, "I look forward with so much 
 pleasure to hearing Miss Thomas and the 
 rest of the choir, that I cannot bring myself 
 to give it up ; I am sure I do not wish to mar 
 the harmony." 
 
 " Mr. Holyoke," said Mary, as Roger left the 
 room, speaking with a little hesitation, " I hope
 
 DIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 105 
 
 you will not feel obliged to sing in church 
 to-morrow. I can make an excuse for you very 
 well ; Jane should not have urged you so." 
 
 " I am very much obliged to her for asking 
 me," said George. " Why should you think that 
 I was not sincere in accepting her offer ?"
 
 106 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 VII. 
 
 IT may be that George had purposed in his 
 heart to walk to church with Mary on the 
 following morning ; if so, he was disappointed, 
 for she left the house long before the hour. 
 Accordingly, he started as late as possible, 
 wishing to make sure that she should reach the 
 meeting-house before him, and thus save him 
 the awkwardness of finding no one whom he 
 knew in the choir. 
 
 The meeting-house, which was about half a 
 mile off, was a proof of the length of time that a 
 fashion remains fixed in men's minds long after 
 its cause is gone. The building was wooden, of 
 course, painted white, with green blinds ; but, as 
 far as the architect's means would allow, it was 
 modelled after a stone English church of the 
 thirteenth century. It had pointed windows, 
 although pointed windows are not easy to build 
 n wood, besides being neither useful nor orna- 
 mental ; and the little square belfry, which was
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. IO/ 
 
 in place of a spire, with the four little wooden 
 peaks at its four corners, looked as like one of 
 the great Gothic towers of York minster as a 
 child's attempt to imitate them with toy blocks 
 would have done. It would be hard to make 
 out whether the design had come into the 
 builder's mind as the outermost ripple of the 
 great Gothic revival of fifty years ago, or, after 
 lying hidden through generations of Puritan an- 
 cestors who believed that the Lord should be 
 the only glory of His temple, a distorted mem- 
 ory of some old village church in England had 
 struggled to the light. 
 
 Inside, the pews were well filled with the vil- 
 lage people, a thoughtful, careworn race, a large 
 proportion of them women and children, with 
 two or three gray-haired men, still rugged and 
 strong, who had left the sea, and a few others of 
 all ages, looking white and weak beside them, 
 the painter, the carpenter, the shoemaker, and the 
 storekeeper of Stapleton. In the little wooden 
 loft opposite the pulpit a half-dozen girls, with 
 an old man and two boys, constituted the choir, 
 which was accompanied by something that George 
 thought he heard called a "seraphim," but 
 which belied its name and looked like a small' 
 cabinet organ. Mary was there, and greeted
 
 108 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 George with a smile ; but she was so placed that 
 he could not sit beside her, and he -fell an easy 
 victim to Miss Thomas, who rose to welcome 
 him with fervor, considerable, indeed, but, as he 
 thought, somewhat moderated from that of the 
 day before. By her he was placed beside a girl 
 of seventeen or eighteen to whom he was intro- 
 duced. Now an introduction, under the circum- 
 stances, George felt to be rather awkward. As 
 a rule, you are expected to make a few remarks 
 to the lady to whom you are presented ; but an 
 exception prevails when the presentation takes 
 place in church. Whether a choir, out of sight 
 of the congregation, who sit with their backs 
 toward you, where there is whispering more or 
 less subdued, follows the general rule or the 
 exception, may well be thought doubtful. How- 
 ever, George essayed a remark on the weather, 
 as a feeler ; it was answered quietly, but in such 
 a way that he felt himself free to follow his own 
 ideas of decorum, and be silent. He thought his 
 companion looked relieved as he did so. 
 
 In a few moments the minister arose, and gave 
 out the hymn before Miss Thomas had finished 
 her conversation with the half-grown boy who 
 sat next her. The choir, of course, rose also, 
 George's companion shyly offering him a share
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 109 
 
 of her music-book. For this rising he was pre- 
 pared ; but he wished to sit down again, when, 
 to his surprise, the whole congregation turned 
 their backs on the minister, as if his importance 
 had left him for the time being, and faced the 
 choir, giving to the singers all the attention, if 
 not all the respect, they gave to their pastor. 
 However, the tune was simple, and George 
 struggled through it with success enough to 
 win an approving word from Jane Thomas at its 
 close. But it was not until the hymn immedi- 
 ately before the sermon that, inspirited by Mary's 
 voice, which rang out clear above the nasal tones 
 of the other singers, George himself sang so well, 
 that Jane said, with a generosity which she fully 
 recognized, as the congregation settled down 
 into their seats and turned toward the minister, 
 "You'll be a great gain to us, Mr. Holyoke ; I 
 guess you and Mary '11 have to sing a duet for 
 us next Sunday." 
 
 After a long and rather tedious sermon from 
 the well-meaning minister, George walked home 
 beside Mary, who apparently did not wish to 
 elude him now. They had gone a few steps in 
 silence, when she turned to him and said, with 
 the remains of some embarrassment, " Mr. 
 Holyoke, it is very hard to speak so of one's
 
 HO SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 friend, and I don't know whether I ought to 
 speak, but I am very sorry ; I feel that I ought 
 to apologize for the way that Miss Jane Thomas 
 treated you yesterday." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said George, smiling. 
 " I thought she treated me very well indeed." 
 
 " You know what I mean," said Mary, flush- 
 ing a little. " You ought not to make me ex- 
 plain; and I was very much obliged it was 
 very kind of you to take her as you did. She is 
 a very good girl, too," Mary went on, more has- 
 tily. " You have no idea how kind she has been 
 to me in many ways. I would not have you for 
 the world think I am betraying her ; it is only 
 in her manners." 
 
 " You exaggerate her manners," said George, 
 whose face had lost its smile the moment Mary 
 began to reply. 
 
 " Perhaps I do. At any rate, I hope you will 
 believe that she is very good-hearted." 
 
 " It would be hard for me to believe anything 
 else of one of Miss Rogers's friends," said George, 
 earnestly. 
 
 " What a pretty compliment ! And don't you 
 want to turn it into a compliment to yourself, 
 Mr. Holyoke, by calling yourself my friend, and 
 telling me how I have offended Mr. Urquhart ?
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. in 
 
 For I must have offended him in some way last 
 night ; he pretended to be indifferent, but there 
 was something that hurt him." 
 
 " Of course you did not mean it," said George, 
 who could not help smiling ; " but it was a little 
 unfortunate when you asked him if he were 
 not proud of his Yankee blood." 
 
 " If it was unfortunate," said Mary, with spirit, 
 " it was you who misled me, Mr. Holyoke, by 
 saying that you were proud of it. I do not care 
 either," she went on, without giving George a 
 chance to speak; "if he is ashamed of it, he 
 deserves to be reminded of it. It is good blood, 
 as good as any in the world ; and if they call us 
 Yankees in ridicule, we ought not to grudge our 
 enemies the benefit of a laugh, for that is pretty 
 much all they can get out of us." 
 
 " You misunderstand me," said George, as soon 
 as he could put in a word. " If Roger had had 
 good Yankee blood, he would have been proud 
 of it, I dare say ; but Roger, though a thorough 
 gentleman himself, does not belong to a very 
 old family ; his grandfather was a Scotchman, 
 and " 
 
 "And so he did not like to have his family 
 compared to yours, which even a country girl 
 like myself knows about. I was very unjust ;
 
 1 1 2 SIMPL Y A LOVE-STOR Y. 
 
 and although, of course, I did not know it when 
 I spoke, I am very sorry, and I would tell him 
 so if it were not that I should make the matter 
 worse. Well, it always has seemed strange to 
 me that a man should value his ancestors the 
 more, the farther off they are from him. I had 
 rather be the son of a great man than his great- 
 great-grandson ; but you must excuse me for not 
 appreciating these distinctions, Mr. Holyoke." 
 
 They had reached the house and now sepa- 
 rated, Mary speaking to herself in a low tone, 
 as she went upstairs to her room : " So Mr. 
 Urquhart does not belong to an old family like 
 yours. I would not have believed that it made 
 such a difference." 
 
 George walked up to Roger, who was lying on 
 the grass just in front of the house, in the shade. 
 of a tree, reading his letters. 
 
 " You must be a better correspondent than I 
 am, Roger, if you have deserved your luck," said 
 he, throwing himself down beside his friend, and 
 looking at two or three empty envelopes strewn 
 about on the ground. " How is it possible 
 that the propriety of Stapleton allows a Sunday 
 mail ? " 
 
 "They receive it on Saturday night too late 
 for any one to go for it, and so relieve their
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 113 
 
 consciences while they read their letters on Sun- 
 day morning. By the by, Harry Larkyns writes 
 me that he is coming down to the Standishes 
 in a week or so ; they are to have quite a party 
 staying with them." 
 
 " Are they ? " said George. " Which shall we 
 try to-morrow, the brook or the pond ? " 
 
 " The pond no I don't care which ; George, 
 I have some news you will be very sorry to hear. 
 John Heston has come to grief." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said George, raising 
 himself upon his elbow. 
 
 " You know he went farming out West in some 
 heathenish place, and a great fool such a man 
 as he was to do anything of the sort ; now he has 
 married the daughter of one of his neighbors, 
 some country bumpkin, I suppose." 
 
 " Is anything the matter with the girl ? " said 
 George. 
 
 " Matter with her ? Why, I should say it was 
 a very considerable matter for a clever fellow 
 like Heston to marry a girl of that sort ! " 
 
 " Of what sort ? Do you know anything against 
 her ? " 
 
 "Against her? No; in one sense I know noth- 
 ing about her. But come, George, you know what 
 I mean. Think what the bridegroom's state of 
 8
 
 114 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 mind will be before the honeymoon is over, 
 about the time he becomes really acquainted 
 with Mrs. H." 
 
 " Why, she may be a very nice sort of girl, I 
 suppose, may she not ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course she may be an angel from 
 heaven ; but not even an angel could play her 
 part in modern society if she were not brought 
 up to it." 
 
 " Society thanks you for the compliment; but 
 possibly John Heston prefers his wife's society 
 to that of the world." 
 
 " He may think he does ; but be serious, George. 
 Suppose she is good and beautiful, as they say 
 of the fairy princess; still, how can a cultivated 
 man like Heston bear the living all his life, if 
 he is so unfortunate as to have a long one, with 
 a woman who, in spite of her goodness, can 
 have scarcely a taste or feeling in common with 
 him, and who will, of the mere necessity of the 
 case, shut him off from all society except that of 
 her friends, who must be as uncouth as she is, 
 and may not be so good ? " 
 
 " I have n't the good fortune to know Mrs. 
 Heston, and perhaps she is as utterly savage as 
 you seem to think ; but I suppose there may be 
 here and there in the West a woman who is not
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 115 
 
 entirely uneducated, and who could, with a little 
 experience, enter even the society that gathers 
 round the gilded dome. So accomplished a 
 woman-hater as you are, Roger, will agree with 
 me if I say that she can't be very much behind 
 some of the people she would meet there," said 
 George, smiling on his friend's vexation. 
 
 " Of course there are exceptions to every rule, 
 or there would be no crimes or mistakes in the 
 world ; if every little boy who ate green apples 
 had to take a dose of medicine, and no ostrich- 
 stomached youngster ever escaped, the mortality 
 among children would lessen. Does it strike 
 you as altogether prudent, when one man in a 
 hundred who jumps out of a fourth-story win- 
 dow reaches the ground without even breaking 
 his leg, for me to follow his example because that 
 one man found that the jump gave him an excit- 
 ing, and, on the whole, a pleasant sensation ? " 
 
 " I did not say I was glad to hear that John 
 Heston was married ; but I do not think, after 
 I had seen you jump out of the window, that I 
 should retire to write your obituary without wait- 
 ing to hear what had happened to you." 
 
 " I am willing to write John Heston's obituary 
 on the risk," said Roger. " Come, take an exam- 
 ple. You hardly could find a more promising
 
 Il6 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 specimen than our host's daughter, could you, 
 so pretty as almost to be handsome, rather 
 graceful, with a pleasing voice, and much better 
 educated than the average, at least? Is it likely 
 that Heston or any other man could do better, 
 if he were to marry so much beneath him, than 
 to take her ? " 
 
 " Miss Rogers is very charming," said George. 
 
 "Very charming; almost fascinating enough 
 to entrap a man who was young and spooney, 
 but " 
 
 "You are not just to her," said George, sternly, 
 "in insinuating that she would entrap anybody." 
 
 "No, certainly not," said Roger, hastily. "I 
 used the wrong word. She would not entrap 
 him ; but of course she would be glad of the 
 chance to marry such a man, or she has not 
 half the stuff or the ambition I think there is 
 in her. The more of a woman she is, the more 
 superior she is to her present position, the more 
 eagerly she would seize on a chance to change 
 it. But how pleasant it would be for her hus- 
 band to present his wife's friends to his own, 
 Miss Jane Thomas to Miss Clara Ellison, for 
 example; or, to speak perfectly frankly, for of 
 course you know that I care nothing about it, 
 how agreeably you would feel if your wife were
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 117 
 
 to ask such an unfortunate question of another 
 lady as she asked of me last evening ! " 
 
 " Of course, she knew no better, Roger ; in- 
 deed, she said that she was very sorry, and that 
 she would like to apologize now that she knew 
 what she had done." 
 
 " She did, did she ? I am sure I am very 
 much obliged to her. Of course she did not 
 know what she was saying. I would have for- 
 given her on the spot if I had thought she did 
 mean it, for it would have been the most deli- 
 ciously acute question I have heard for some 
 time, and I think I almost deserved it. Indeed, 
 if it had not been accidental, it would have gone 
 far to show that I am wrong, and that she is 
 capable of filling a place in society. To speak 
 plainly, George, she shows off very well against 
 a background of people who really are her in- 
 feriors ; but can you imagine anything more un- 
 fortunate than to be placed as Heston is, even 
 supposing he has got as presentable a wife as 
 Miss Rogers would be ? " 
 
 "Be careful! you are speaking too loud, Roger," 
 said George. " Yes, I can imagine a good many 
 things much more unfortunate than to be mar- 
 ried to a woman, young, beautiful, who is deeply 
 in love with her husband, for I suppose you
 
 Il8 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 allow the possibility of that to Mrs. Heston, 
 who is more clever and intelligent than three 
 quarters of the girls he meets in society, and who 
 lacks simply the knowledge of a few conven- 
 tionalities that any woman is sure to learn in 
 a month. Marriage under such circumstances 
 is n't such a terrible bogey, after all." 
 
 " Bravo ! Well spoken from the book ! And 
 her friends and relatives, Jane Thomas and 
 the rest?" 
 
 There was a moment's pause before George 
 answered. " Once there was a man, Roger, who 
 said that he married his wife, and not his wife's 
 relatives. I agree with him." 
 
 " He was a fool," said Roger, " and spoke 
 in the exuberance of his spirits just before the 
 wedding-day. A year afterward he would have 
 told a very different story." 
 
 " But I had no idea you knew or cared so 
 much about John Heston," said George. " I 
 never knew he was an especial friend of yours." 
 
 " He isn't, in one sense ; but I can't help feel- 
 ing very sorry for a fellow who has got himself 
 into such a scrape. I would have given a good 
 deal to have kept him out of it." 
 
 " No doubt he is as grateful for your kind 
 intentions concerning his past, as he is for your
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 119 
 
 doleful prognostications concerning his future ; I 
 am sure I should be if I were in his place." 
 
 " You, oh, I have no fear for your safety ! 
 You always were fond of arguing on the wrong 
 side, George ; but, to do you justice, you generally 
 act on the right one," said Roger, laughing. 
 
 "Thanks for the compliment. It is almost 
 time for dinner," said George, as he went into 
 the house. 
 
 Roger lay back on the grass with a lazy smile 
 on his face until George was out of sight ; then 
 he rolled over and knit his brows with a look 
 of real vexation and anxiety. " Safe, is he ? " he 
 muttered to himself. "About as safe as if he 
 were crossing Niagara on a tight-rope. Entrap 
 him ? Oh no, of course not ; she '11 marry him, 
 that 's all. Confound it ! A shy man like George 
 is sure to be taken in by the first woman that 
 will make love to him, and she is the first he 
 ever tried to know. And I act the disinterested 
 spectator ! " 
 
 " Dinner is ready, Mr. Urquhart," said a voice 
 above him. 
 
 He sprang up quickly, and found himself face 
 to face with Mary. As she stood there, her face 
 a little flushed, her handkerchief thrown over her 
 dark brown hair to shelter her head from the
 
 120 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 sun, Roger felt for her at the moment far more 
 of respect and admiration than he had known 
 before. She was handsome enough to please 
 even his fastidious taste ; and the fact that she 
 had determined to marry his susceptible friend, 
 and that she was setting about it with such skill 
 and such freedom from vulgar bungling, if it 
 added to his dread, gave him a feeling of sym- 
 pathy with her which he hardly would have 
 owned to himself. As he walked beside her to 
 the house, she said with a smile, " 1 hope you 
 have found the fishing about here come up to 
 your expectations." 
 
 "A sop to Cerberus," thought Roger. "She 
 is trying to conciliate the friend ; a well-planned 
 move, but rather a useless one." It was an in- 
 stant before he answered : " Yes, it is very good. 
 Excellent fun, fishing, don't you think so? 
 especially for the larger kinds of game ; but it 
 requires skill. 
 
 " Bah ! that 's thrown away on her. No one 
 but a Frenchwoman would understand it," he 
 said to himself.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 121 
 
 VIII. 
 
 EORGE," said Roger at supper that even- 
 ing, " I think I shall go to town to- 
 morrow morning, as I have several things to do 
 there. Probably I shall come back by the after- 
 noon train. Take good care of the boat while 
 I am gone ; long-continued pounding, even on 
 a sand-bar, will do its work at last, though you 
 may not think it. That 's true, is n't it, Captain 
 Rogers ? " 
 
 " I should think that the keel of that craft," 
 said the captain, taking a good deal of sea-room, 
 metaphorically speaking, for his answer, " would 
 have learned by this time to pick out the soft 
 places in pretty much all of the flats in Stapleton 
 Bay. I don't wish to undervalue your seaman- 
 ship, Mr. Holyoke, but " 
 
 " Oh, you 're not likely to undervalue it, I am 
 sorry to say. I' have been hoping," he said, 
 speaking in a low tone across the table to Mary, 
 " that you would let me take you out for a sail. 
 Will you not go to-morrow ? "
 
 122 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " You have put me in a very awkward posi- 
 tion," said Roger, who had overheard him. " You 
 make it look as if I were the dragon who has 
 prevented you from asking Miss Rogers before. 
 That is not the reason, though," he said, turning 
 to Mary. " He is a modest fellow, and distrusts 
 himself. He wishes some more experienced per- 
 son in the boat, you or I, for example." 
 
 George vouchsafed no answer to the sally, but 
 looked at Mary earnestly for a reply. 
 
 " You are very kind, Mr. Holyoke ; but I do 
 not lead a perfectly lazy life, though you might 
 suppose so. School begins to-morrow over in 
 Sanket, in the little school-house you were kind 
 enough to admire." 
 
 " I should be very glad Might I bring 
 you back, unless you are afraid to trust me ? " 
 he added, trying to smile, with but moderate 
 success. 
 
 " Oh, not in the least. To doubt that we 
 could get back would be to make light of my 
 seamanship as well as yours ; but I shall not 
 come home until Tuesday. I shall stay in 
 Sanket over night." 
 
 George was angry with himself to find his 
 courage so much exhausted by these two ques- 
 tions that he dared not make the same offer
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 123 
 
 for Tuesday. However, so it was, and he said 
 no more. 
 
 Early the next morning Roger started for the 
 city, so early that his business was finished 
 several hours before the train left for Stapleton. 
 It was a hot summer's day, and to pass away the 
 time he went into a great library in the heart 
 of the city. There he knew that a quiet, lofty 
 reading-room opened upon the cool shade of a 
 little graveyard where the bodies of his country's 
 honored dead were doing their last public ser- 
 vice in defending from the city fathers a few 
 trees and flowers and plats of grass for the city's 
 children. 
 
 He went to the librarian's desk with the book 
 he had chosen, and saw, standing with her back 
 toward him, a tall fair-haired girl seventeen or 
 eighteen years old. As he waited for the libra- 
 rian, one of the attendants went up to the girl 
 and said in a sulky voice, " I can't find the book. 
 It 's not in the library." 
 
 The clear but soft tone in which the answer 
 came fixed his attention. 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself ; it is really of no 
 consequence. This one will do quite as well." 
 
 A feeble light came even into the attendant's 
 eyes, as she said, " I '11 try again for it, Miss ;
 
 124 * IMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 perhaps I may have overlooked it," and hurried 
 away. The girl herself came toward the place 
 where Roger was standing ; and, as she came, he 
 saw that it was Hildegarde Standish. He bowed 
 and shook hands, then turned to sign his name 
 for the book he was taking out ; and he remem- 
 bered afterwards that, as he did so, Hildegarde, 
 standing beside him, looked through the trees at 
 the busy street beyond. When he had finished, 
 he turned to her. 
 
 " It is very flattering, Miss Standish, that you 
 should remember me ; for I was but just pre- 
 sented to you, when I had to yield my place to 
 another man." 
 
 " I do remember you," said Hildegarde. " You 
 were introduced to me at our garden party, and 
 you paid me a very pretty compliment there ; 
 but I am sorry that I do not remember your 
 name." 
 
 Roger gave it, saying, with a smile, " And you 
 thought my handwriting would be so illegible 
 that it was not worth while to try to make it out 
 from my signature." 
 
 " I did not care to look over you," said Hilde- 
 garde, quietly. " Are you not passing the sum- 
 mer at Stapleton ? " 
 
 Roger assented, and made a few common-
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 125 
 
 place remarks about Stapleton and other places 
 by the sea, when Hildegarde said, moving as if 
 to go, " May I trouble you to do me a favor, 
 Mr. Urquhart?" 
 
 " It would be a pleasure to me to do a favor 
 for one whose occupation is to grant favors, 
 Miss Standish." 
 
 " Will you be so kind as to tell Miss Brattle, 
 if you should see her while you are here, that I 
 had to leave before she came, and that I hope 
 she will come to us as soon as she can for her 
 visit at Cornlands, which is the name of our 
 place at Stapleton." 
 
 Then, turning with a smile, which Roger 
 thought must be wasted, to the attendant who 
 had just come up with the book she had asked 
 for, Hildegarde left the library. 
 
 Roger had been heated and uncomfortable, 
 perhaps even a little irritable, when he left the 
 street ; now, for some reason which he did not 
 stop to think about, he sat down to his book in 
 a more contented frame of mind, and soon was 
 so much absorbed that he started at hearing his 
 name spoken, and at seeing Ann Brattle stand- 
 ing before him. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Miss Brattle," said he, 
 springing up.
 
 126 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " The quiet delights of peaceful Stapleton are 
 not sufficient for you, unless you plunge occasion- 
 ally into the feverish whirl of the city, I suppose," 
 said Ann. " I hope you have not left for good, 
 for I trusted that I should see you there when 
 I went to stay with the Standishes ; I scarcely 
 have met you since you went abroad, since 
 our long discussions when we were young, Mr. 
 Urquhart." 
 
 "A little of this feverishness will bear a large 
 dilution of the placidity of Stapleton. Just now 
 I was delighted to hear from Miss Standish that 
 you are to make a visit to them there." 
 
 " Miss Standish has been here, then ? " 
 
 " Yes, and she asked me to tell you that she 
 hoped you would make your visit to Stapleton 
 as soon as possible." 
 
 " She is a charming girl, Hildegarde Standish, 
 but hardly in your style," said Ann, looking 
 shrewdly at him. 
 
 Roger wondered for a moment if it were 
 possible that George could have told Ann of 
 their conversation about Hildegarde Standish 
 on the day when they went to Stapleton. He 
 thought not, but he felt uneasy. 
 
 " Certainly I should not take on myself to say 
 that Miss Standish's style is not very good."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 127 
 
 " No ? I should have said it was too bread- 
 and-buttery for us ; if it is n't, may I congratu- 
 late you on the improvement of your taste while 
 you were abroad ? You see that I am as ready 
 for warfare as ever. Tell me how fares my 
 cousin George, and I will leave you in peace for 
 a few days, until we meet at Stapleton." 
 
 "George is very well," said Roger. 
 
 " Don't spare my feelings," said Ann. " Really, 
 I am interested in my cousin ; tell me what fear- 
 ful mystery is concealed behind your words." 
 
 " Miss Brattle," said Roger, looking up after 
 an instant's pause, "you will laugh at me when 
 I tell you. I feel that I am offering myself a 
 victim to your ridicule ; so please begin to laugh 
 now, that we may be serious the sooner. But 
 what I have to say is in perfect earnest, and you 
 are the only person who can do any good in the 
 matter ; George will be engaged shortly to one 
 of the natives of Stapleton." 
 
 As he was speaking, Ann looked at him in 
 unfeigned wonder, and when he finished, she did 
 not laugh as much as he had foretold. 
 
 "Do you mean what you say, Mr. Urquhart ?" 
 
 " Most certainly, and more than I have said. 
 George is fascinated already, more than I ever 
 have seen him ; it is a question of time only, and
 
 128 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 of pretty short time at that. I have tried, but 
 of course I have only made matters worse, and 
 if you fail, Miss Brattle, it is past cure." 
 
 " And how am I to help you ? " said Ann, who 
 began to see the ludicrous side of the situation. 
 " Am I a great enchantress, able to exorcise the 
 evil spirit in George, and break the meshes which 
 this young person has been weaving ? " 
 
 " George has no mother," said Roger, " and 
 I am forced to say that I am no match for 
 the ' young person.' I will yield to you that 
 a woman's wits are sharper than a man's in a 
 case like this." 
 
 " I should be glad to discuss some of our old 
 questions with you now that you are in such a 
 mood. And so, as Aunt Charlotte is dead, you 
 look on me as the likeliest person to play the 
 part of George's mother. I am much gratified 
 by your tribute to the discretion which I have 
 gained with advancing years. I suppose you 
 have tried to act the part of my late Uncle 
 Henry without success." 
 
 " You may laugh at me as much as you please ; 
 but at least you will do your best, for I know that 
 you care for George almost as much as I do." 
 
 "What is the fair charmer like?" said Ann, 
 sitting down. " Tell me all about her."
 
 SHfPLY A LOVE-STORY. 129 
 
 " She is handsome, I regret to say, and she is 
 quite superior to her -family and neighbors ; other- 
 wise, I do not believe that even George would 
 have become infatuated. We are lodging in her 
 father's house, so her opportunities are constant, 
 and she uses them very well, I am bound to say ; 
 she is no coarse common bungler, but plays her 
 fish very artfully. I confess, I cannot imagine 
 where she has learned it all." 
 
 " You don't do justice to natural New Eng- 
 land shrewdness, Mr. Urquhart. Is she edu- 
 cated at all ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes; she has read Milton, and the Lord 
 knows what not else. You will have no easy 
 task of it. She is clever enough to give you a 
 deal of trouble ; and, if I had not so much at 
 stake, I should enjoy seeing Greek meet Greek. 
 I will do my best to help you, but that will not 
 be much, for the only way to save George is to 
 induce him to make the comparison between 
 this girl and a real lady." 
 
 "Mr. Urquhart," said Ann, "you are right. 
 It will be a hard fight; and, however I may joke 
 about it now, it is serious enough. George went 
 down to Stapleton disgusted with society, and 
 thinking that he had made a fool of himself be- 
 fore the woman he cared most about ; though, 
 9
 
 130 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 mind you, I do not believe he was in love with 
 her. If she had been rude to him, or had 
 treated him ill, it would not matter, he would 
 have been angry with her, and that would have 
 been the end of it ; but now, he is angry with 
 himself, and, if a man feels himself humiliated, 
 he will be very grateful for the first news that 
 he still is good for something. George was dis- 
 gusted with society because he was so shy that 
 he did not succeed in it ; and if he finds himself 
 of importance to a pretty girl, what are you to 
 expect ? " 
 
 She paused a moment, and looked thought- 
 fully at the ground, biting the ivory handle of 
 her parasol; then she raised her head quickly, 
 almost with a jerk. "Clara Ellison is to go to 
 Stapleton, I believe, to stay with Mrs. Standish. 
 She could do fifty times as much good as you 
 and I put together, if she only would " she 
 paused for a word to express her meaning with- 
 out implying too much forwardness on Clara's 
 part " smile on him two or three times. If 
 she won't, we must make what use we can of 
 Hildegarde Standish, though she is not quite 
 old enough, and not quite worldly enough for 
 the purpose. I can do nothing, myself, but give 
 him good advice ; and, as matters stand, that
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 131 
 
 would be very much worse than to let him alone 
 altogether. Our only chance is to supply him 
 with a higher class of flattery ; for flattery, 
 especially when applied by women, is the only 
 sure means of producing the desired effect on 
 you men. If it fails in any case, it is n't be- 
 cause the man is impervious to flattery, but 
 simply because the flatteress is a novice in the 
 art." 
 
 " You may trample upon me as much as you 
 please, Miss Brattle. So long as you trample upon 
 the enemy at the same time, I shall make no 
 defence. When George is saved, or married, 
 I will defend my sex, as I have done before, 
 against your aspersions." 
 
 " George wrote me a letter from Stapleton the 
 other day," said Ann, "and he said in it nothing 
 about the fair one. That is a bad sign ; for it 
 shows that he does not even imagine it is a 
 Platonic friendship. Not that it makes much 
 difference, for Platonic friendship is merely the 
 flirtation of people who think it is wrong to 
 flirt; and, as Platonic friends are usually rather 
 clumsy, it is a good deal more likely to lead 
 to matrimony. Is the conspirators' duet ended 
 now ? " she added, after a moment's pause. " Is 
 there anything more to do before we clasp each
 
 132 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 other's hands and devote ourselves to the accom- 
 plishment of our sacred task? I believe conspi- 
 rators always part in that way. I cannot help 
 looking on the ludicrous side of the affair just 
 now, especially when I try to imagine what 
 would be the length of my Uncle Henry's face 
 if he were alive now, and heard the news." 
 
 " And when shall I look for the arrival of 
 the great enchantress, the fairy godmother, at 
 Stapleton ? " 
 
 "To-day is Monday; fortunately, the Stan- 
 dishes have asked me to come as soon as pos- 
 sible. I will go down on Wednesday, and I 
 shall be glad to see you there, so that we may 
 hold our final council of war before beginning 
 hostilities. Let George know when I am com- 
 ing, but do not urge him to come to see me ; on 
 Thursday I will call on him when the charmer 
 is at home, and open the campaign. Cheer up, 
 Mr. Urquhart ; life is worth living yet," she said, 
 as she left him and walked out of the library. 
 
 As she hurried through the streets, her face 
 wore a peculiar smile. She was thinking how 
 quickly and how fully George had taken the 
 advice she had given him in all seriousness at 
 the garden party, and smiling at the energy 
 which she now was putting forth to prevent him
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 133 
 
 from following out that advice to its natural 
 result. Her face wore such a queer look, that 
 Charley Cocker, who stood much in awe of that 
 intellectual and positive Miss Brattle, felt very 
 uneasy when she returned his bow, which he 
 had intended to be propitiatory, and wondered 
 what part of his dress or bearing she had singled 
 out for ridiculing to the next friend she met. 
 
 Roger tried to turn again to his book, but 
 for some time he did not succeed. He was 
 pleased at the outcome of the interview ; re- 
 lieved that so clever a woman as he believed 
 Ann Brattle to be, was enlisted in the cause 
 which he had so much at heart, and he began 
 to hope for a favorable issue. As he was think- 
 ing thus, and weighing the chances of success, 
 feeling somewhat jealous that Ann should suc- 
 ceed where he knew that he himself had failed, 
 there rose for a minute before him a picture 
 of Mary as he had seen her on Sunday, when 
 she came out to call him with her handkerchief 
 thrown over her head, and a June rose at her 
 throat ; which, because it so much became her, 
 he believed she had put there to entrap his 
 friend. For a moment he thought it hardly 
 fair that a shrewd woman like Ann Brattle, and 
 such a clever man as he thought himself, should
 
 134 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 join forces to plot against a country girl; but 
 the thought was only a passing fancy, for he 
 felt that he was battling for George's future 
 happiness, and, in comparison with that, the 
 hearts of all the girls in Stapleton were light 
 in the balance. 
 
 He sympathized with Mary. He felt that if 
 he had been her friend instead of George's, he 
 would have given her all the help in his power ; 
 for Mary would have fallen very much in his 
 estimation if he had not believed that she was 
 seeking with might and main to marry George 
 Holyoke. 
 
 " Such a chance comes to a girl like that but 
 once," he said to himself. " I almost wish I 
 were a stranger, and could watch Ann Brattle 
 and this girl manoeuvre for George. Upon my 
 word, I don't know that I should sympathize 
 altogether with my present ally." 
 
 But he was not a disinterested spectator, and 
 he set himself to think how he could help Ann 
 in the struggle most effectually. And so, in 
 reflections interrupted by an occasional attempt 
 to read, he passed the time until the train left 
 for Stapleton. 
 
 All the next day it seemed to Roger that 
 George was nervous and preoccupied. Now
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 135 
 
 that he had come to think that remonstrance 
 would do no good, Roger carefully avoided all 
 discussion, and strove hard to brush his friend's 
 feelings the right way. But when Mary came 
 home on Tuesday, although he had expected it, 
 he was irritated to find that George passed a 
 large part of the evening in talking with her. 
 Roger himself took up a book, firmly intending 
 to overhear all that was said. Rather to his 
 surprise, he found no difficulty in doing so. 
 They talked mostly of Mary's school, of books, 
 and of education in general. He wondered at 
 the way in which George came out in a conver- 
 sation not in the least sentimental, and also at 
 the originality of some of Mary's thoughts, and 
 at the vigor and clearness with which she ex- 
 pressed them, while he could not but smile at the 
 humor in her description of a visit of the school 
 committee to her school. He would not enter 
 into the conversation lest he should make George 
 angry. 
 
 When Mary had left them, and the two young 
 men went out for a few minutes, he felt that 
 he had done his duty by keeping the enemy in 
 check, as far as was in his power, until re- 
 inforcements came up. But his wrath knew 
 no bounds, when, on the next day, Miss Jane
 
 136 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 Thomas, whom George and he met in the village 
 street, told them that the schools of the neigh- 
 borhood were to hold a picnic on the next Fri- 
 day, the Fourth of July, by the shores of a lake 
 a few miles off. She took special pains to say 
 that Mary's school in Sanket was included, 
 and that teachers, as well as pupils, would go. 
 Then, with a knowing look, she asked George 
 and Roger, the former much more especially, to 
 join the party. 
 
 George accepted greedily, as Roger thought. 
 He himself was so angry that such a heavy 
 blow should be struck by such a pestilent and 
 contemptible creature as Jane Thomas, that he 
 hardly could command his voice to speak. He 
 really did not know whether it were his duty to 
 accept or not ; but making up his mind that 
 he could do no good by going, he refused rather 
 roughly.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 137 
 
 IX. 
 
 THAT evening, as he did not find George 
 desirous of accompanying him, Roger 
 alone rowed across the bay to Cornlands, as 
 Mr. Standish called his place by the sea-shore. 
 There he found Ann, just come from the city, 
 talking with Mrs. Standish and Hildegarde on 
 the broad low piazza, that ran almost around the 
 rambling house. The bay, with the ocean sepa- 
 rated from it by a long sandy neck, lay in front 
 of them and on their right, across its narrower 
 part, they could see the lights of Stapleton. 
 
 Roger was forced to talk to all three ladies, 
 and chafed inwardly, wondering how he should 
 get a chance of speaking to Ann, when she asked 
 Hildegarde to sing to them. All the windows 
 were open, and it was at Hildegarde's own sug- 
 gestion that her listeners sat on the piazza, where 
 they could hear quite as well as if they followed 
 her into the house. In the confusion of moving, 
 Roger took care to find a seat near Ann ; and, no
 
 138 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 sooner had Hildegarde begun a ballad, than 
 Ann leaned over to him and said almost in a 
 whisper: "Hilda really sings very nicely, and 
 you ought to hear her sometime, but we must 
 to business now, I suppose. What is the condi- 
 tion of the patient, and has the good old fairy 
 come in time ? " 
 
 " There is no news," said Roger, " except " 
 and he told the story of the picnic. 
 
 "Well, we can't help that," said Ann. "On 
 the very same day Clara Ellison comes down with 
 Harry Larkyns, and we must do the best we 
 can. At what time to-morrow shall I find George 
 and the charmer both at home, for I must see 
 the 'young person'?" 
 
 " At any time after our early six-o'clock tea 
 unless they go out to walk together ; and it has 
 not come to that quite yet." 
 
 "That's a charming song, Hilda," said Ann, 
 almost interrupting him ; " do give us another." 
 
 "What shall it be?" said Hildegarde's voice, 
 from out the parlor. 
 
 " You did so well in choosing the last, that we 
 must leave it to you to choose the next. Then 
 I must ask you to come over here and take 
 me across to Stapleton," she went on, turning to 
 Roger. "Tell George nothing about it. I want
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 139 
 
 to surprise him, and the 'young person,' too, if I 
 can ; we must risk the picnic, it seems, and try 
 to make a fresh start afterwards. When you 
 were a small boy, Mr. Urquhart, did you ever 
 believe there were people cruel enough to pray 
 that it would rain on the Fourth of July ? Well, 
 I advise you to vow the sacrifice of a lamb to 
 Jupiter Pluvius if the little boys are disappointed 
 this year." 
 
 The song was over, and Hildegarde came out 
 again upon the piazza. 
 
 "You are staying at Captain Rogers's house 
 in Stapleton, I think, not at the hotel," said Mrs. 
 Standish, turning to Roger. 
 
 " Yes, we are so fortunate," said Roger, with 
 an ironical inflection in his voice, meant for Ann 
 alone. 
 
 " I was surprised to hear that Mrs. Rogers 
 took boarders. I supposed they were too well 
 off. Quite a pretty daughter Mrs. Rogers has, 
 don't you think so, Mr. Urquhart ? She is a 
 little superior in appearance to 1 most of the 
 people of Stapleton ; quite lady-like in looks, 
 considering who she is, though her manners are 
 rather abrupt. Gentlemen staying with me have 
 noticed her several times in church." 
 
 Roger assented.
 
 140 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " And she is what she looks like," said Hilde- 
 garde's clear voice. " She teaches school in 
 Sanket, the next village to this ; I must drive you 
 over, Ann, to see her little school-house, which 
 she has covered with honeysuckle and wood- 
 bine. It is really one of the prettiest sights on 
 the whole shore." 
 
 "I should very much like to go, dear," said 
 Ann. 
 
 "And when she comes home to Stapleton by 
 water," Hildegarde continued, " I have seen her 
 boys escort her to the wharf in a body, with her 
 belongings divided among them, so that almost 
 every one gets a share. As I was riding by, I 
 felt I should like to stop and sketch the scene if 
 I had a right to do it." 
 
 " A right to do it ! What do you mean ? " 
 said Roger. 
 
 "Why, very often when I want to sketch a 
 person, it is because they are doing what they 
 do not expect or wish me to see, and I have no 
 right to intrude upon them. I can take only a 
 mental sketch for my own benefit, and sometimes 
 I think it is hardly right to do even that. I 
 often have wished that I could make a friend 
 of Miss Rogers. Of course, I have met her and 
 talked with her often in Stapleton ; but I think
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 141 
 
 it would be hard to know her in the way I 
 should like." 
 
 " Don't rave, Hilda dear," said Mrs. Standish, 
 in a somewhat disapproving tone, while Roger 
 and Ann exchanged significant glances. 
 
 " You were a long time in Paris, were you not, 
 Mr. Urquhart, when you were abroad for the last 
 time ? " Mrs. Standish continued, with hardly a 
 pause. The conversation was turned success- 
 fully, and Roger soon went back to Stapleton. 
 
 On the following day, after his early tea, when 
 more than an hour of sunlight still remained, 
 Roger rowed Ann from Cornlands across to 
 Stapleton. 
 
 " It was an amusing scene last night," said 
 Ann, as they walked from the wharf at Stapleton 
 toward Captain Rogers's house. " Mrs. Standish 
 is a most excellent woman, according to the fash- 
 ionable standard. She subscribes to most of the 
 charities in the city, and is president of the So- 
 ciety for the Relief of Aged and Indigent Female 
 Shoplifters ; but she understands Hildegarde no 
 more than you and I understand the angels, 
 Mr. Urquhart. I was very much tempted to 
 prevent her from changing the subject last even- 
 ing ; but I knew that she never would forgive 
 me if I did ; for she has an uneasy feeling, when-
 
 142 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 ever, as happens frequently, Hildegarde says 
 something which she cannot comprehend. That 
 is the couple, I suppose," she went on, as, through 
 a break in the trees that sheltered the house 
 from the road, they caught sight of George 
 and Mary seated on each side of the small 
 porch at the front door, the door which Mrs. 
 Rogers now used in deference to her guests ; a 
 piece of extravagance which had been censured 
 by some of her thriftier neighbors. Roger 
 and Ann entered the gate unseen, and it was 
 their tread on the brick walk which discovered 
 them. 
 
 George and Mary rose ; the former came for- 
 ward a step or two, and greeted his cousin with 
 some embarrassment. Ann shook hands, and, 
 before he could speak, passed on directly to 
 where Mary stood. 
 
 " Miss Rogers, I think," she said, in her bland- 
 est tones. " I will not trouble my cousin for an 
 introduction, for gentlemen are not competent 
 to introduce ladies, you know. I am Miss Ann 
 Brattle ; and, as my lazy cousin would not come 
 to see me, why, perforce, I have come to find 
 him." 
 
 " I have heard Mr. Holyoke speak of you," 
 said Mary, " and from the way in which he spoke,
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 143 
 
 I think it must be that he did not know you 
 were here." 
 
 "I am afraid I cannot make that excuse," 
 said George. " I was coming over to see you 
 to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Well, I have been before you. Don't go, Miss 
 Rogers. What a delightful view you have from 
 here ! " said Ann, turning to look at the bay and 
 the bluff of Cornlands rising beyond it. 
 
 " Yes, I am very fond of it," said Mary, with a 
 smile; "but Mr. Holyoke tells me that country 
 people do not appreciate properly the beauties 
 of Nature which they see every day ; since then 
 I have been more careful in expressing my 
 admiration." 
 
 " For shame, George ! " said Ann. " And that 
 is particularly unjust to you, Miss Rogers, as I 
 hear ; for Miss Standish tells me that your school- 
 house in some place, the name of which I can- 
 not for the life of me remember, is one of the 
 sights of the neighborhood ; indeed, she has prom- 
 ised to drive me over to look at it some day." 
 
 " Miss Standish is very kind to say so," said 
 Mary, quietly ; then, with a smile, " Yes, I believe 
 even Mr. Holyoke made an exception of that, for 
 which I was very much obliged to him." 
 
 " Miss Rogers, if you do not take care, I shall
 
 144 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 be forced into telling what you have said of my 
 taste as a dweller in cities," said George. 
 
 "Oh, do tell me!" said Ann, gleefully; then, 
 turning again to Mary, " I always have wanted to 
 see myself as others saw me. Do you speak from 
 what you have seen of the city, Miss Rogers, or 
 do you attack us, as I am afraid George has 
 attacked you, on general principles only ? " 
 
 " I do not know that I have attacked you. I 
 have seen the city, not very much more." 
 
 "We are open enough to attack," said Ann. 
 " Our life is so much more complex and artificial, 
 we have so many more wants, and lack sim- 
 plicity so completely. Don't you think so ? " 
 
 "Certainly," said Mary, dryly. Not even the 
 fact that Ann was looking her straight in the 
 face, could keep her from sending a quick glance 
 toward George. As for him, recalled thereby, 
 and by Ann's words, to certain things which 
 Mary had said to him when he brought her back 
 from Sanket, he smiled with full appreciation. 
 
 Ann, who had an uneasy feeling that some- 
 thing was going wrong, changed the subject 
 quickly. 
 
 " But tell me about your school, Miss Rogers. 
 I am much more interested in that than I am 
 in discussing myself."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 145 
 
 " I am afraid that your interest will be disap- 
 pointed ; there is not much to entertain any one 
 in a country school." 
 
 " Oh, you do your profession injustice, and 
 you do injustice also to my desire for knowledge. 
 If Miss Standish keeps her promise, and drives 
 me over to the unpronounceable village, would it 
 be against the rules if I looked at the school- 
 house inside as well as out?" 
 
 " I am afraid it would," said Mary ; " our rules 
 do not admit any one but the relatives of the 
 children." 
 
 "Ah, then I shall have to give it up," said 
 Ann. She was turning away toward George, 
 when Mary spoke slowly, as George remembered 
 she had done when first he had seen her : " I 
 must leave you now, Miss Brattle ; my mother 
 needs me to help her." 
 
 "Oh, I am sorry; good-by," said Ann, in 
 rather a perfunctory manner, bowing slightly as 
 Mary went into the house. 
 
 " Now we can talk together," she went on, sit- 
 ting down on the bench in the porch. " George, 
 you have been most undutiful to your cousin ; but 
 she is generous and forgives you, if you will 
 promise to do better for the future." 
 
 "I am sorry," said George; "but " 
 10
 
 146 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 "But nothing. Well, you positively must 
 come over to Cornlands on Saturday and pay 
 your respects. To-morrow, I hear, you are 
 about to disport yourself with the villagers at 
 a famous picnic. You go in for observing 
 manners and customs with a vengeance, on the 
 nil humani a me alienum ptito principle, I sup- 
 pose ; but you ought not to neglect your friends 
 entirely. By the way, Clara Ellison comes 
 clown to-morrow ; I think it would not be al- 
 together unacceptable to Mrs. Standish if you 
 and Mr. Urquhart were to offer to take her 
 guests for a sail some fine day." 
 
 "Mr. Urquhart is always at her disposal, I 
 have no doubt, and if I must, I must. That 
 does not apply to you, Ann ; my cousin knows 
 it always is a pleasure for me to talk with her." 
 
 " And I hope it does not apply to the others," 
 said Ann. ".I am your physician, I believe. 
 You know that I go in for women doctors ; at 
 least, you consulted me on your case at Mrs. 
 Standish's garden party, and I shall not let go 
 hold of you so easily. This will be an excellent 
 chance for you to try my prescription. Miss 
 Ellison is a most charming girl, and you have 
 the advantage that she thinks well of you, to 
 begin with."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 147 
 
 " I am very much obliged for the good opinion 
 of me which you are pleased to attribute to Miss 
 Ellison." 
 
 " Oh, it is not that I attribute it to her. Of 
 course, I don't mean that Clara Ellison goes 
 around mooning for you " 
 
 " I should hope not ! " broke in George, as if he 
 did not like the idea. 
 
 " No, not in the least. I mean only that she 
 cares for you as she cares for any other man in 
 society to whom she finds it more than ordina- 
 rily agreeable to talk ; which is all the better 
 for the purposes of my prescription. I did not 
 mean to pose in the light of a matchmaker, try- 
 ing to bring things to pass between you. I am 
 only your cousin, trying, at your request, as I 
 thought, to help you fill a place in society for 
 which I am proud to believe that you are well 
 fitted. Really, I am quite proud of my cousin, I 
 assure you." 
 
 " Thank you," said George, a little mollified, 
 but still rather uneasy. 
 
 " You are welcome. You were asking me, I 
 remember, at that delightful garden party, how 
 to begin a conversation with a young lady when 
 you had nothing in particular to say to her ; allow 
 me to suggest that an account of to-morrow's
 
 148 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 picnic would make a very good beginning ; it 
 must be decidedly a queer sight in some ways, 
 and you could make an amusing story of it. At 
 least, I know that I should like to hear about it. 
 You see what good care I take of my patient." 
 
 " Certainly I do ; but, as it is not pleasant for 
 the patient always to be speaking of his ailments, 
 suppose we change the subject." 
 
 " With the utmost pleasure ; they say that a 
 slight fractiousness is a symptom of convales- 
 cence, and I think you are improving. How do 
 you find Stapleton ? Are the aborigines amusing ? 
 I have been told that I am to have the pleasure 
 of hearing your voice in the choir next Sunday ; 
 I suppose we may look shortly for a study, from 
 the pen of an amateur, of the manners and cus- 
 toms of S , a typical New England village, 
 
 which will contain a glowing description of Miss 
 R., the village belle. Seriously, George, I should 
 recommend you to get her photograph as a fron- 
 tispiece ; it would increase the sale of the work. 
 Really, she is a very pretty girl," Ann went on 
 hurriedly, for George's face darkened, and he 
 seemed about to interrupt her. "The story of 
 your rescuing her at the station would give a 
 piquant flavor to the book." 
 
 George looked uneasy. He wished to defend
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 149 
 
 Mary from his cousin's badinage ; and yet to take 
 up the cudgels for her in serious earnest and to 
 get angry at Ann's jokes would be absurd. Ann 
 thought she had gone far enough, and changed 
 the subject ; they talked of indifferent matters 
 for ten or fifteen minutes more, and then she rose 
 to go. George would have accompanied her ; but 
 Roger, laughing, pleaded that it was his right, and 
 that, having brought her across from Cornlands, 
 it would be unfair to deprive him of the pleasure 
 of taking her back. George yielded readily, and 
 Ann and Roger walked down to the wharf to take 
 the row-boat which had brought them over. 
 
 But Stapleton was an easy-going place, where 
 to borrow a boat for a few minutes without ask- 
 ing for it was thought to be a mark of neigh- 
 borly feeling ; and Roger found that his was in 
 temporary use as tender to a sail-boat moored 
 a hundred yards away from the wharf. The 
 owner of the sail-boat, on being hailed, said that 
 he would come in to the wharf in a moment ; 
 and, while waiting for him, Roger and Ann sat 
 down on some cord-wood piled upon the pier, 
 and began to talk over their scheme. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Urquhart," began Ann, "why do 
 you not congratulate me on the success of my 
 first encounter with the 'young person'? Upon
 
 150 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 my word, I have fallen several degrees in my 
 own estimation. I was routed at almost every 
 point, and I was so irritated that I hardly could 
 keep my temper with George. I was tempted 
 to call him a fool more than once." 
 
 Now the wood-pile, on the lowest part of 
 which Ann and Roger were sitting, rose behind 
 their backs until it was more than six feet high ; 
 and, like a wall, ran almost the entire length of 
 the wharf. It stood there, waiting the arrival 
 of a rheumatic old sloop, closely resembling a 
 Chinese junk, which carried firewood to another 
 part of the coast too barren to produce that 
 commodity. This rheumatic junk did not ven- 
 ture to sea save under a cloudless sky, and, 
 as it happened, the wood had accumulated. 
 In a nook on the other side of this great pile, 
 from which she could see the red glory of the 
 sunset caught up by the east and south, and 
 mirrored in the still waters of the bay, Mary sat 
 reading. She had come down to the wharf after 
 her housework was finished, partly to prove to 
 herself that she did appreciate the beauties of 
 the scenery of Stapleton ; she was startled by 
 hearing Ann's voice close behind her. She 
 caught but little of the first sentence, for she 
 was debating with herself whether she ought to
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 151 
 
 go or to stay. Her first feeling that no one 
 had a right to drive her from a place in which 
 she had a right to be, and that, so long as she 
 did not listen to what was said, she was not 
 responsible for what she overheard was giving 
 way to a keener sense of honor, when a ques- 
 tion from Roger, every word of which she heard 
 distinctly, changed her mind. He spoke slowly, 
 and with entire freedom from flippancy. 
 
 "Do you think, Miss Brattle, that George is 
 in love with the girl?" 
 
 She started, and strained instinctively to catch 
 the answer. In order to get away, it was nec- 
 essary to pass directly before Ann and Roger; 
 and besides, in her surprise and excitement she 
 did not wish to get away. She wished to listen. 
 It came over her that they were speaking of her, 
 and what they said it was best and right for her 
 to hear. The fact that she had overheard it 
 thus, might bind her never to tell what she thus 
 had learned ; but she could not be prevented 
 from listening, so that she might know how to 
 act. Ann's reply was as distinct and slow as 
 Roger's question. 
 
 "Yes ; the only doubt is, how far it has gone." 
 
 " I thought so," said Roger. " I only hoped 
 that you might think differently."
 
 152 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 "It is perfectly clear," said Ann, "and I am 
 very much afraid that we are too late in trying 
 to prevent it. You were right in calling her 
 clever, Mr. Urquhart. Poor George is like clay 
 in her hands. Indeed, they seem to have come 
 to a very good understanding already. Did you 
 notice how she ogled him when I was speaking 
 to her ? Oh, yes, in a few days I shall be em- 
 bracing my new cousin that is to be." 
 
 " Embracing her!" said Roger, with something 
 that was midway between a laugh and a groan. 
 "Excuse me, but you look and speak as if you 
 would embrace her very warmly indeed." 
 
 " Of course I shall. Mr. Urquhart, listen to a 
 little worldly wisdom which, in the excitement 
 of the moment, I suppose, even so wise a 
 person as you are, seems to have forgotten. If 
 your relative tries to marry beneath him, oppose 
 him, try to prevent him, stand out against him 
 even to the bitter end ; but when it is all over, 
 and the engagement is announced, do not delay 
 an instant, do not wait even to put on a wed- 
 ding garment, but embrace the bride on the 
 spot, and you will have saved a family quarrel ; 
 your friend will forgive you, for he will need 
 your moral help in his struggle with those of 
 his family who are not so wise as you, and the
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 153 
 
 woman why, even if that girl overheard every 
 word I am saying to you now, still, by the very 
 force of circumstances, I should be her main- 
 stay and warmest friend within a week after her 
 engagement to George came out. However, I 
 shall not give up the fight ; yet if we can escape 
 to-morrow's picnic, we still may win with Clara 
 Ellison." 
 
 Roger rose and strode moodily up and down 
 before Ann, his face so gloomy that even she 
 hardly could avoid smiling. 
 
 " I wish I lived in the good old times," he 
 burst out, " and could bring a band of followers 
 into the village to-night, carry her off, and make 
 an end of it all." 
 
 "The modern equivalent of that would be to 
 poison her tea, I suppose ; which would be far 
 too melodramatic, and besides, would be hardly 
 safe. I don't wish to disturb the pleasant course 
 of your reflections," she said again, after a 
 moment's pause, "but there is the man who 
 borrowed your boat ; I suppose we had better 
 go over to Cornlands." 
 
 Roger put her into the boat without saying 
 anything, and pushed off from the wharf. For 
 several minutes thereafter, Mary sat still, gazing 
 fixedly at the water below her. When Roger
 
 154 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 and Ann were gone so far off that they could 
 not see her if she left her hiding-place, she rose, 
 picked up her book, walked slowly to the house 
 and quickly through it upstairs to her own room, 
 where she shut the door.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 155 
 
 X. 
 
 morning of the Fourth of July was as 
 -*- fair as even the boys could have wished, 
 to Roger's disgust, and to George's delight. 
 When the two young men came down to break- 
 fast, Roger watched Mary closely, hoping to 
 make out from her face the effect which Ann's 
 visit of the day before had wrought on her. 
 He was not surprised that she seemed to look 
 on him with more dislike than she had shown 
 before. He believed that she was clever enough 
 to find out the object of Ann's visit, and to rec- 
 ognize his share in it ; but he could not under- 
 stand altogether her treatment of George. She 
 said nothing to him, scarcely answered his ques- 
 tions, and seemed nervous, and very unlike her 
 usual calm self. Yet he was sure that once 
 or twice he caught her looking attentively at 
 George as if she expected to read something in 
 his face, taking very good care to do this when 
 his eyes were turned another way. The crisis 
 came when breakfast was nearly over.
 
 156 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " Well, Mary," said her father, " have you 
 made up your mind ? Are you going to the 
 picnic to-day ? " 
 
 Roger waited eagerly for her answer. While 
 Ann and George were talking together the even- 
 ing before, he went into the house for a minute 
 or two, and he heard Mary, in answer to the 
 same question from her mother, say that she 
 believed that she should stay at home. At the 
 time, he supposed that she had not then heard 
 of Jane Thomas's invitation to George, and of 
 his acceptance. Now, he watched to see if she 
 had found this out in the mean time. But before 
 she could answer, George looked anxiously across 
 the table", and said, " I hope you are going, Miss 
 Rogers. Miss Thomas was kind enough yes- 
 terday to ask me to go myself, and I - 
 ' As he spoke, Roger, who was watching Mary 
 closely, saw her start slightly, look quickly across 
 the table toward George, and then heard her 
 answer her father as if she were trying to speak 
 naturally, " Yes, I shall go." 
 
 The picnic party did not leave Stapleton until 
 the afternoon ; and it was after his early dinner 
 that Roger took his boat and crossed the bay 
 to Cornlands. He found Ann sitting alone on 
 the piazza.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 157 
 
 " Well, what news ? " she said, as he came up. 
 "You did not bid high enough for rain to-day." 
 
 He told her what he had heard on the evening 
 before, and at breakfast on that day. " I think 
 she is frightened, and means to force matters, 
 though she acted rather queerly," he added. 
 
 " Stay and ride with us this afternoon," said 
 Ann. " We will get Hildegarde to take us to 
 this picnic. I don't know why it is that when 
 we can do absolutely nothing to keep off an im- 
 pending evil, we wish always to have a good 
 view of the catastrophe. I suppose that we are 
 not willing to miss the excitement. We don't 
 want it to come about ; but, if it must come, we 
 are curious animals 'and would not leave it un- 
 seen for worlds." 
 
 Hildegarde came out of the house at this 
 moment, and agreed to guide them later in the 
 afternoon to Lake Marby, the scene of the pic- 
 nic. " It is the place to which we take our 
 guests when we want to show them that there 
 are truly very beautiful spots near Stapleton," 
 she said. 
 
 Her coming changed, of course, the conversa- 
 tion altogether. At first Roger resented this ; 
 for, though he had nothing in particular to say, 
 he had a burning desire to talk over and over
 
 158 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 again the matter which was nearest his heart ; 
 as if, by winnowing and re-winnowing his own 
 ideas and those of Ann, some valuable grains of 
 subtle scheming might yet be found. His mind 
 had been wrought almost to fever heat in the 
 past few days, and it was some little time be- 
 fore he remembered what Hildegarde was saying, 
 from sentence to sentence. There was a sooth- 
 ing power, however, both in her voice and man- 
 ner. She never was in a hurry ; however quickly 
 she might move or speak, it was always with 
 the certainty of reaching the goal in time. Her 
 conversation was not remarkable ; she was a 
 young girl scarcely yet in society, but there was 
 in her no anxiety lest she should not be talking 
 well, so that Roger, who had been somewhat 
 wearied by Ann, and who, moreover, could not 
 forgive her altogether for taking George's affairs 
 so calmly, found himself listening to Hildegarde 
 in a happier frame of mind than he had known 
 for some time. He thought that Ann looked 
 on George's love affairs rather as an occasion 
 for an interesting struggle with Mary, than as a 
 most serious crisis in the life of a dear friend ; 
 she was not moved so much as he had hoped 
 even by the idea of the family connection. 
 Then, too, Ann knew, as he feared, what he had
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 159 
 
 said to George about Hildegarde, and now he 
 felt that he should be sincerely sorry if his 
 remarks ever came to Hildegarde's ears. Thus 
 the afternoon passed away until they mounted 
 their horses and rode toward Lake Marby. 
 
 Thither from all the country round had come 
 children and young people for the great picnic. 
 Running out into a lake several miles in length, 
 almost cutting it in two, was a peninsula just 
 connected with the mainland ; on it rose a high 
 bluff from which you looked down upon either 
 half of the blue lake, on whose surface small 
 thickly wooded islands seemed to float, for the 
 shrubs, crowded down to the water's edge, hung 
 their thickly matted branches out so far that no 
 beach could be seen, and the water, disappearing 
 among the leaves and twigs, seemed to reach 
 far under the island and bear it up. Beyond 
 the bluff, farther out in the lake, the peninsula 
 widened, with thick swampy jungles and groves 
 of beech and birch ; to those who had lived 
 among the scrubby oaks and pines of the sur- 
 rounding country, it was as though the beauty 
 of the lake had drawn to it trees and shrubs 
 and wild grasses which would not grow in less 
 favored places. 
 
 The children were playing about, now under
 
 160 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 cover of a friendly clump of trees, escaping to 
 the shore where they could dabble in the water 
 undisturbed by their mothers' fears, now swing- 
 ing, playing base-ball or tag, or watching the 
 mysterious ceremonies of a clam-bake which 
 had been intrusted to several of the larger boys 
 on Mary's suggestion ; for she had feared that 
 otherwise the peninsula would be hardly large 
 enough to contain their exuberant spirits, and 
 hoped besides that the worship of this milder 
 god of fire would be an acceptable substitute 
 for reverencing his Chinese brother with fire- 
 crackers. 
 
 George did not find the picnic so inspiriting a 
 festival as he had hoped. The society of Staple- 
 ton was well represented on the female side, it 
 being midsummer, most of the men were at sea, 
 but even the charms of Miss Thomas did not 
 make up for the fact that Mary stayed in the 
 midst of her pupils, telling a story to the 
 younger ones, going off to look at the clam- 
 bake and to give advice thereon when asked by 
 an older boy, patching up the wounded clothes 
 and feelings of another, and acting as general 
 referee on all occasions. George would have 
 liked to watch her, if it were not that he had 
 hoped for something better, and also that it would
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 161 
 
 have been decidedly conspicuous to do nothing 
 else. He tried to help her amuse the children. 
 She thanked him, but there did not seem much 
 for him to do, and besides, even if she wished 
 his help, of which George was very doubtful, it 
 was entirely clear that the children did not. So 
 time passed away until the clam-bake was opened 
 and the other provisions brought out, when 
 Mary turned to George, who happened to be 
 standing near her, and said, " Have you been 
 along the shore through the woods ? " 
 
 " No," said George, wondering if this were a 
 dismissal ; " I have been watching the children." 
 
 " You ought to see the place ; it is very 
 pretty," said Mary, abruptly. " Let me show 
 you the way;" and she led on across the open 
 space where the company were scattered about 
 in groups, eating their supper. 
 
 The woods were tangled, and the ground cov- 
 ered with underbrush. It was by a path which 
 some cows, pastured in a field beyond, had bro- 
 ken out, that Mary, stooping her head and dash- 
 ing the branches aside with her hands, led the 
 way so vigorously that George hardly could keep 
 up with her, and missed entirely the occasional 
 vistas through which the lake could be seen. 
 At last they came to an open space from which 
 ii
 
 1 62 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 they looked out on the strait joining the two 
 parts of the lake, and across it, into a lovely 
 little bay framed by the trees on the opposite 
 shore. 
 
 "It is very pretty, isn't it?" said Mary, stop- 
 ping short and looking off at the water. 
 
 "Yes," said George, trying to discover some 
 new complimentary adjective for the scene. He 
 had no time for his search, however, for Mary 
 broke in, turning round upon him quickly. 
 
 " I am tired, Mr. Holyoke ; let us sit down 
 for a moment if you wish," she added, turning 
 away again. 
 
 As she did so, a strange look came into 
 George's face ; he silently assented, and followed 
 her to the edge of the low bank that ran down 
 to the water. Mary seated herself, leaning her 
 back against a fantastically shaped pine-tree 
 which thrust out its grotesque arms in all direc- 
 tions above her; George threw himself on the 
 ground in front of her, nervously pulling up 
 the grass-blades within his reach. There was 
 a -pause which Mary broke, speaking at first 
 quickly, and as if she were repeating a lesson 
 learned by rote, though her voice soon became 
 more natural. 
 
 "Mr. Holyoke, it was some days since that
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 163 
 
 you allowed me to call you my friend. I did so 
 because I believed that you were my friend, for 
 you had treated me very kindly, and I thought 
 you would not object to the name ; I think now 
 that I was right." 
 
 " Miss Rogers," burst out George, raising him- 
 self up, " you know " 
 
 " Yes, I think I do know it," said Mary, quickly, 
 interrupting him. " Well, as you are my friend, 
 I should like to treat you as one, and tell you 
 some things about myself that I would not tell 
 except to a friend, some of them things that 
 I should like for you to know, because I think 
 that if you did not know them you would mis- 
 judge me ; yes, you hardly could help misjudging 
 me," she went on, seeing that George wished to 
 speak. " I mean to talk perfectly frankly to you ; 
 and I hope," she said, after a moment's hesita- 
 tion, " that what I say may interest you enough 
 to be worth your hearing. Of course, the social 
 station to which I have been born is not the 
 most fashionable, perhaps it is not the best, 
 but I " 
 
 George, who had been looking down at the 
 ground, now raised his head, his face flushing. 
 " Of what consequence " he began passionately. 
 
 " Mr. Holyoke, you must not interrupt me,"
 
 1 64 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 said Mary, quietly. " You must hear me to the 
 end without speaking. As I said, my social 
 position is not as good, in many ways, as that of 
 some of the people I see ; but, after trying to 
 find out my own feelings, I do not think I have 
 been discontented often ; I have a certain pride 
 in being descended from the Pilgrims, and if I 
 choose to imagine that I am as good as any lady 
 whom I meet, there is no one to gainsay me. I 
 think that if I lived in a foreign country where 
 I was expected to show my inferiority by some 
 kind of submission, I should be discontented; but, 
 as an American, I am not. From several things 
 that I have said to you, particularly when we first 
 met, I am afraid that I did not seem satisfied 
 with my lot ; and, as I am telling you the whole 
 truth, I must confess that I did not like the idea 
 of your coming to board with us. For myself," 
 she said, with an emphasis on those two words, 
 " I can say now that I am glad you did come. I 
 have passed more time away from Stapleton than 
 most of my friends, and, though I know I love 
 the place more than they do, I have more curi- 
 osity than they have to know about other places. 
 That was the main reason why I talked as I did 
 about the city. If I was rude to your cousin 
 yesterday, it was," she paused for an instant,
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 165 
 
 "to speak perfectly freely, because I thought 
 that she was not quite kind to me. Perhaps I 
 was mistaken ; at any rate, I am very sorry. Now, 
 Mr. Holyoke, you are a gentleman, an American 
 and a Yankee, and I think you can understand 
 what I mean when I say that I am contented 
 to live in Stapleton, but that I do not mean to 
 shut my mind up in it. But," she went on, not 
 giving George time enough to speak, alternately 
 glancing at him and looking away from him, as 
 she spoke slowly, " I have another reason for 
 being contented with Stapleton, a reason that 
 very few people know, one that I want to tell 
 you, because you have been kind enough to call 
 yourself my friend. I am in love, Mr. Holyoke, 
 and I am so happy as to know that my love is 
 returned. We were brought up together here 
 in Stapleton ; it must have been here that we 
 began to love each other, though I do not re- 
 member that our love ever had a beginning. It 
 was here three years ago, before he went whaling, 
 that he asked me to marry him when he came 
 back, and it is here, I suppose, that we shall live 
 out our lives. I am content." 
 
 As she was speaking these last words, there 
 was a crashing among the bushes a hundred 
 yards behind them, though neither George nor
 
 166 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 Mary heard it, and Hildegarde's black horse 
 forced its way through, his mistress's head bent 
 low on his neck, to shield her face from the bushes. 
 An instant later, Ann followed, less accustomed 
 to the rough riding, and trying to beat off the 
 branches with her arms. When she reached a 
 place where, through a gap in the leaves, she 
 caught sight of the open ground, and of George 
 and Mary, she reined in her horse with an excla- 
 mation that made Roger start as he came up be- 
 side her. 
 
 " What ought ladies to say when they want to 
 swear, Mr. Urquhart ? Look at that!" and she 
 pointed with her whip. "What would you give 
 for our chances now that much?" she said, 
 snapping her fingers. " I think we may con- 
 gratulate ourselves on having seen the catas- 
 trophe. Come ! " and she struck her horse so 
 sharply that he started forward suddenly, brush- 
 ing Ann's face against an overhanging branch. 
 Roger followed with something very like a real 
 oath, and they soon joined Hildegarde in the 
 open country beyond. 
 
 There was a pause after Mary had finished 
 speaking, which she broke herself. 
 
 "Very few people know of this, Mr. Holyoke. 
 He was attentive to me so they said before
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 167 
 
 he went away ; but that was three years ago, 
 and the village has forgotten all about it by this 
 time, except, perhaps, his family and mine, and 
 even they knew very little more than they saw. 
 He is on his way home now. He is to stop at 
 Savannah, for some reason I do not know. He 
 will write me from there. He will be home in a 
 month, perhaps ; and then I suppose we shall be 
 married. I hope you will come to our wedding, 
 Mr. Holyoke." 
 
 " I shall try to," said George, mechanically, after 
 a moment's pause, looking away at the lake. 
 
 " I wish you knew Herman. You would know, 
 then, how fortunate I am. Of course I do not 
 need your approval," she went on, as George did 
 not answer ; " but it would be very pleasant for 
 me to know that you appreciated him." 
 
 " Miss Rogers," said George, speaking slowly 
 and quietly, " there is one man in the world who 
 has every reason to be completely happy. For 
 myself, I am most proud that you should think 
 me your friend, and that you should have hon- 
 ored me as you have done. Shall we go back 
 to the picnic ? They will be expecting us there." 
 
 " Well, Ann, I hope you have enjoyed your 
 ride," said Mrs. Standish, greeting the party 
 as they came back to Cornlands. " I am afraid
 
 1 68 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 that Hildegarde has taken you rather a rough 
 road." 
 
 " Oh, I assure you it was very pleasant," said 
 Ann. "The road was rather rough here and 
 there ; but we were so much taken up with the 
 beautiful sights that we did not notice it, did 
 we, Mr. Urquhart ? " 
 
 " It is only fair to Miss Standish," said Roger, 
 " to confess that we asked her to take us to Lake 
 Marby, and that she acted merely as guide." 
 
 " It will be supper-time soon, Ann," said Mrs. 
 Standish. " I expect Clara Ellison and Harry 
 Larkyns here every moment. I will send my 
 maid to help you dress, if you like, dear. Mr. 
 Urquhart, I trust you will stay to supper." 
 
 Both Ann and Roger were on the point of 
 refusing Mrs. Standish's offers, when Ann, who 
 abhorred help at her toilet, recollected that her 
 hostess's maid was a Stapleton girl, and thought 
 she might hear from her something about Mary ; 
 while Roger came to the conclusion that, dis- 
 agreeable as Cornlands would be to him in his 
 present frame of mind, Stapleton would be even 
 worse. Ann scarcely had entered her chamber, 
 when the maid came in. 
 
 "You belong here in Stapleton, do you not ? " 
 said Ann, as the woman helped her in dressing.
 
 DIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 169 
 
 "Yes'm." 
 
 " Do you have much gayety here, many 
 balls, and that sort of thing ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes'm, plenty in the winter time; there 
 is not any at this season ; all the young men are 
 away at sea." 
 
 "But in the winter time they come home and 
 dance with the pretty girls, I suppose ? Are 
 there many pretty girls here ? Who is the 
 favorite ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know 'm. Most of the young 
 men like Jane Thomas the best. She has pleas- 
 ant ways with her ; but I guess Mary Rogers 
 is the handsomest. She is so kind of top-lofty, 
 though, that many don't like her so well." 
 
 " Is n't she the daughter of Captain Rogers, 
 and does n't she teach school somewhere near 
 here?" said Ann. 
 
 "Yes 'm ; over to Sanket." 
 
 "Hasn't her family taken boarders this year?" 
 Ann went on. 
 
 " Yes 'm ; two young men from the city. They 
 have been here more than a week, and seem to 
 be very quiet and pleasant spoken. Mis' Rogers 
 told me that one of 'em was very pleasant and 
 accommodatin'," said the girl, beginning to open 
 her heart.
 
 1 70 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 "I have seen her," said Ann. "She certainly 
 is very pretty. And do you mean to tell me that 
 none of your young men have gone courting 
 there? They must have very bad taste." 
 
 " Oh, there has been plenty to go a courtin', 
 but it has n't done 'em much good." 
 
 " What ! has n't she smiled on any one ? Is n't 
 there anybody she is willing to take ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't know ; two or three years ago 
 they did say she was rather sweet on a sort of 
 cousin of mine, Herman Crocker." 
 
 "And what has become of him?" said Ann, 
 sitting down before the glass. 
 
 " He went whaling for three years. He 's to 
 be back soon, and his sister was telling me the 
 other day that Mary had never looked at any 
 one since he left. I don't know anything about 
 it, but she said it was so." 
 
 As the maid finished speaking, Ann looked 
 up at the glass to arrange her hair. She had 
 forgotten everything about her afternoon's ride, 
 except the one thing that had made it memo- 
 rable ; but as she looked at her own face, she saw 
 an ugly red scratch across one cheek, and remem- 
 bered how she had been struck by the branch 
 of a tree when her horse started just after she 
 had seen George and Mary. She did not push 
 her inquiry any further.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 171 
 
 " One 's sisters should be very careful before 
 they say a thing of that kind ; they don't see 
 everything. If I were the gentleman you speak 
 of, I think I should be rather jealous of one of 
 the summer boarders, particularly if I had been 
 at the picnic to-day at Lake What 's his name." 
 
 " Lake Marby, ma'am. Why ? " 
 
 There was a pause after the maid's interroga- 
 tion mark ; then Ann spoke, looking down : " I 
 should hardly like to have the girl I was atten- 
 tive to, wandering round with another young 
 man in the woods, or sitting down on the shore 
 of the lake and staring off at the water, with 
 him to talk to her ; but perhaps you do these 
 things differently down here. Look out! Don't 
 brush my face ; it hurts where I got that scratch 
 riding through your jungles." 
 
 " Yes 'm," said the maid, meekly. " I don't know 
 about it ; but I thought from what Herman's sis- 
 ter said, that he sort of meant to take up with 
 Mary Rogers when he got home, but perhaps 
 not." 
 
 " I suppose, even if Herman, as you call him, 
 meant to, that is no reason why Miss Rogers 
 should not think otherwise." Then, after a mo- 
 ment's pause, " However, there is nothing, that 
 I know of, to prevent a girl from taking a walk
 
 1/2 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 with a gentleman. I have done it myself, and 
 I never intended even to flirt with him ; besides, 
 three years is a good while." 
 
 The conversation ended here, and Ann went 
 down to supper, reflecting rather anxiously that 
 it would be disagreeable if her conversation 
 should reach Mary's ears after she became en- 
 gaged to George, and wishing that she had not 
 gone quite so far. 
 
 Clara Ellison had reached Cornlands ; but 
 Harry Larkyns, who was to have been her escort, 
 had been kept in the city, Mr. Standish, who had 
 stolen away from business, taking his place. He 
 was an elderly gentleman, whose only fault arose 
 from the fact that generations of cultivated an- 
 cestors had so refined his mental vision that he 
 failed to use great natural abilities, because he 
 saw too clearly the excesses and errors of those 
 who would have been his associates. But if he 
 had not accomplished much in the world, he had 
 not failed to be a gentleman ; and if his name 
 were not widely known, the charm of his man- 
 ners, springing from the gentleness and purity 
 of his mind, made his character much respected 
 by those whom he met. Ann knew him well, 
 and was honest enough to recognize that in her 
 present frame of mind she probably should say
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 173 
 
 something which would not please him. Ac- 
 cordingly she so arranged it at the supper table 
 that he and Clara Ellison were placed together, 
 and then with a strong effort she kept silence. 
 But she could not restrain herself, when, as they 
 left the supper table, Clara turned to Roger, 
 and said : " How have you enjoyed yourself in 
 Stapleton, Mr. Urquhart ? When I see you 
 here, though, I suppose I hardly need ask." 
 
 Before he could answer, Ann broke in : " In- 
 deed, you had better ask him ! You cannot 
 imagine how we have been wishing for Harry 
 Larkyns to dissipate the gloom ; really, Mr. 
 Urquhart has plunged us in the deepest melan- 
 choly. As for me, I have tried all the old 
 subjects that used to irritate I beg pardon, to 
 interest him, but it is of no use. I believe 
 that he is angry because he is in love with some 
 village beauty and my Cousin George has for- 
 bidden him to speak to her; you look upon 
 George as your keeper in a measure, don't you, 
 Mr. Urquhart ? " 
 
 " Very much so, of course," said Roger ; then, 
 as Ann passed through the door, he said to Clara 
 loud enough for Ann to hear: "What a bless- 
 ing it must be to have such spirits as Miss 
 Brattle always has ! "
 
 1/4 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 "It is a great blessing, I assure you," said 
 Ann ; " it has enabled me to bear a good deal 
 lately. Do you know, Clara, that piece of sar- 
 casm is the most promising rise I have got out 
 of him for some time. But just look how he 
 has quieted down after it ; it is really sad to see 
 him." 
 
 They all passed out upon the piazza, where 
 Roger, after a few commonplaces exchanged 
 with Clara, lapsed into silence as the conversa- 
 tion became general. Without listening to what 
 was said, he sat staring moodily across the bay 
 to the lights of Stapleton, mentally cursing the 
 place and all its belongings most heartily. If 
 he had been a little cooler, he might have been 
 surprised at the depth of his affection for George. 
 As it was, he knew simply that he was disgusted 
 with everything, from the friend he would have 
 given so much to save, to the woman that friend 
 viciously persisted in marrying. Instinctively 
 he turned his face, which was set and furrowed, 
 away from the rest of the company, unconscious 
 that the moon now shone full upon it. 
 
 " Mr. Urquhart, I am sorry that you have 
 been troubled this evening," said a voice beside 
 and above him, clear, but so low as not to 
 interrupt the rest of the conversation.
 
 SIMPL Y A LO VE-S TOR Y. 175 
 
 Roger sprang up with a start, face to face with 
 Hildegarde, who was standing just before him 
 in the open window. 
 
 " Miss Standish ! Why, I thought you were 
 on the piazza. ! You look like a vision, there." 
 
 " My sister was not quite well, and I have 
 been upstairs with her," said Hildegarde, as she 
 stepped out of the house. 
 
 Standing as he did, Roger saw the clock in 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 " I had no idea it was so late," he said. " I 
 must go back to Stapleton, unless " he added 
 with sudden compunction " you think it rude 
 of me to leave just as you have come." 
 
 " Not at all," said Hildegarde, taking the 
 hand he held out. " Pleasant dreams to you 
 to-night, Mr. Urquhart." 
 
 As Roger strolled away, he wondered why he 
 was not more provoked at the sympathy thus 
 thrust upon him unsought.
 
 176 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 XL 
 
 THE next morning Roger, grown more philo- 
 sophical, went down to breakfast with his 
 mind hardened to bear the news of the great 
 calamity which had befallen his friend ; but he 
 was very much perplexed at what he saw. 
 George, indeed, did not seem like his usual self, 
 but certainly his appearance did not savor of 
 hilarity. Nay, with the very best intentions of 
 discovering joy hidden beneath apparent uncon- 
 cern, Roger could discover nothing in the least 
 cheerful in his friend's face and manner, while 
 Captain and Mrs. Rogers were utterly uncon- 
 scious. Mary did not appear ; and Roger, after 
 waiting in the hope that her father or mother 
 would explain her absence, at last, asked for 
 himself. In reply, Mrs. Rogers told him that, 
 the measles having broken out in the village of 
 Sanket, the school had been closed for a time, 
 while Mary herself was gone for a visit to her 
 grandfather, an old man in failing health, who
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 177 
 
 lived some miles from Stapleton. He thought 
 George's face betrayed that all this was not 
 news to him ; but really he was so much amazed 
 at his friend's conduct, that he could form no 
 explanation at all satisfactory to himself. 
 
 When, however, after breakfast, he suggested 
 a visit to Cornlands, as a feeler for the state of 
 George's mind, he was bewildered again by the 
 emphasis with which his friend refused, suggest- 
 ing a day at the brook instead. To the brook 
 they went accordingly, George silent and almost 
 morose, scarcely smiling even when Roger, as 
 they parted for the fishing, wished him good 
 luck to improve his temper. 
 
 Canon Kingsley has told in prose which is 
 more than half poetry, how the glory of one 
 British salmon river differs from that of another. 
 There is not a trout fisherman in New England 
 who does not believe that its trout brooks are 
 worthy of a more eloquent picture. 
 
 The little stream which comes down the sides 
 of the White Mountains, bringing a few tiny 
 cupfuls of water, like the diamond making up 
 in its purity and brightness what it wants in 
 abundance, seeming so cold and hard that it has 
 a strange resemblance and fitness to the cold, 
 hard rocks that hold it ; owing its freshness to 
 12
 
 1 78 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 no leafy shade, but pure and cool because it 
 has been always pure and cool, and so keeping 
 its freshness as well in the broad glare of the 
 sun as when resting deep in the shade of rock 
 or tree, if we could meet the guardian spirit 
 of such a stream, we should see a fair-haired 
 girl who had looked the sun so freely in the face 
 that, charmed by her frankness, he had blessed 
 her with his radiance and had not burned her 
 with his fire; to whose eyes the heavens by day 
 had lent their color, and the heavens by night 
 their brightness, and whose lips alone the cold 
 winds of her native mountains had kissed. 
 
 Then there is the broad stream that rolls its 
 lazy waters between clipped lawns and under 
 magnificent elms and willows ; a proud aristo- 
 crat, yet careless to what marsh it owes its birth 
 so long as it is delicately nurtured now, trained 
 to show itself to the best advantage by a rustic 
 bridge that tries in vain to imitate the fallen 
 tree or accidental boulder of its mountain 
 brother, or by an artfully planted clump of trees 
 or cunningly conceived summer-house, feeding 
 its gluttonous denizens on the crumbs that fall 
 from the rich man's table. You need not look 
 far for its guardian spirit, for she walks its 
 banks in broad daylight with a Gainsborough
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 179 
 
 hat, and a dress which some simple folk may 
 think as simple as themselves. Beware lest she 
 prove, with the fish that swim below her, wary, 
 hard to catch, large and showy when caught, 
 but when turned to the plain uses of every-day 
 life, not so good as their small kinsmen of the 
 hills, who are so hungry that they are always 
 greedy, but have no time to be gluttonous. 
 
 The brook in which George fished on this 
 afternoon was neither a wild mountain stream 
 nor a tame suburban one. On other days he had 
 admired it fully as much, and he was familiar 
 with them all ; but now he stepped listlessly 
 into the water flowing over the yellow sand, and 
 let his hook be carried down the middle of the 
 stream, careless of the dark, sheltered nooks 
 under the banks where he knew the larger trout 
 lay. An eager little fellow, hardly longer than 
 his hand, rushed at the bait. George shook him 
 off impatiently ; and, regardless how much he 
 disturbed the water with his splashing, pushed 
 aside the branches of a tree which overhung 
 the stream, and clashed quickly forward. In so 
 doing, he lost his balance, and barely saved him- 
 self from plunging head first into the deepest 
 part of the stream. In regaining his footing, 
 his line became so much entangled that it was
 
 ISO SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 several minutes' patient work before he could 
 clear it. He was a true fisherman, and the care 
 he was forced to give brought him back to what 
 he was doing. 
 
 A few steps farther on, all the force of the 
 stream, leaving a little water to trickle over the 
 sand, swept close to the bank and shot swiftly 
 under the trunk of a maple which clung des- 
 perately with its roots to the land, hanging its 
 branches, covered with the fresh green leaves, 
 and draped in wavy gray moss, out over the 
 water. George knew well that the stream, 
 disappearing under the tree, eddied round in a 
 sunless pool beneath the green cushion of moss 
 which covered the nakedness of the maple's 
 roots ; so, shortening his line, he let his bait 
 glide under the trunk, still half reckless and 
 indifferent. 
 
 But there is no electric thrill so strong as the 
 short, sharp, vicious tug which the great trout 
 gives before he joins battle with his enemy. 
 Out he rushes into the clear water above, dis- 
 daining the cover of the familiar snags of his 
 home, glorying in his strength. The fight is 
 short, for the bushes and fallen twigs and roots 
 of trees would catch the line if it lasted long ; 
 but it is all the fiercer while it does last, differ-
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 181 
 
 ing from fly-fishing as a gladiator's battle differs 
 from a fencing-match. Back stepped George as 
 the trout charged him, and with a steady pull, 
 which was neither slow nor jerky, dragged his 
 antagonist, dripping, upon a convenient tuft of 
 grass on the bank of the stream. 
 
 His listlessness and indifference were gone 
 now, and down the stream he went, searching 
 every nook and cranny to add to his spoil. The 
 fish had come from the salt water and the mud- 
 flats, where, by some change which no one 
 understands, out of the filth where they had 
 lived they came forth in a new suit of silver 
 armor, with rich enamels of pale blue and pink, 
 and on their way to the shady bays and bright 
 shallows of Lake Marby they turned aside from 
 the rapid stream into some quiet place where the 
 water stood still and they could rest. Some- 
 times George would draw them out from under 
 a bank where a little piece of grass was the 
 groundwork of a carpet, of which the white vio- 
 lets made the pattern, as their blue kinsfolk had 
 done a few weeks before ; sometimes the stump 
 of a felled tree gave the shelter, a tree which 
 seemed to belong to some prehistoric race of 
 gigantic children of the forest, so large was it 
 compared with its effete descendants. Late in
 
 1 82 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 the season as it was, the day possessed that un- 
 discoverable something which makes the fish 
 hungry, and George's basket was well filled 
 when he reached the blazed tree marking the 
 spot where an imaginary path led from the 
 brook to the road. 
 
 As he went tramping on in his heavy wading- 
 boots toward the shed where the wagon had 
 been left, he heard the quick tread of horses 
 behind him, and, as he looked back, Ann Brattle 
 and Clara Ellison rode up, Ann's eyes sparkling 
 with her unexpected triumph. Clara leaned 
 from her saddle and greeted George warmly. 
 
 " Can you tell us where we are ? " said Ann. 
 "We never take a groom in this innocent place, 
 and I was rash enough to promise Clara that I 
 would guide her through these woods, while the 
 rest of the household went to sail ; but it is quite 
 as hard for me to find my way here as it is for 
 you to find yours over the sand-flats." 
 
 " If you will come with me to our wagon, I will 
 guide you back," said George. " I would rather 
 not direct you. If I were to tell you to take the 
 third road to the right," he went on, turning to 
 Clara, "you would be torn with doubt if each 
 place where the bushes were thinner than usual 
 should count for a road ; or, if you waited for
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 183 
 
 something which would be called a road else- 
 where, you never would find the third one." 
 
 He walked on beside them to the shed, Clara 
 laughing and chatting as they went. Roger had 
 not returned. 
 
 " I hardly can drive off and leave him," said 
 George. " Why will you not dismount and wait 
 a few minutes until he comes back ? " 
 
 Ann and Clara assented. They all sat down 
 upon the steep bank, and, through the branches 
 of the trees covering it, they looked down upon 
 the stream below. 
 
 "Very handsome fish should come out of such 
 a stream as that," said Clara. " Are n't you going 
 to show them to us, Mr. Holyoke ? " 
 
 George spread out his treasures on the grass. 
 They were duly admired, and the conversation 
 went on, chiefly between Clara and himself. He 
 was a fisherman, and for this time, at least, a 
 successful one, and he felt at home in his flannel 
 shirt and high wading-boots, so that Ann, look- 
 ing on, thought that she very seldom had seen 
 her cousin show himself to better advantage. 
 They did not talk of fishing, indeed, except as a 
 prelude, for Clara Ellison was known for the 
 ease with which she carried on a conversation. 
 Saying nothing very new or startling, she yet
 
 1 84 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 left in those with whom she talked a sense of 
 having done well themselves ; and if they did 
 not recall any particular word that had been said, 
 there was a feeling of satisfaction, not of having 
 utterly thrown away an hour in mere folly. 
 Those who knew her best said that this came 
 from no shallowness of mind, but from the abun- 
 dance of her tact, and that it rested upon a warm 
 sympathy and a clear discernment by no means 
 common. The two were talking still when 
 Roger came up quietly behind them, receiving, 
 as he did so, a knowing glance from Ann, who 
 had time to look about her. By this time it was 
 growing late, and they started for Stapleton. 
 
 The next day was Sunday, and, as he had 
 done the week before, George went into the 
 choir of the Stapleton meeting-house, telling him- 
 self that, as a gentleman, he was bound by his 
 word to do so. From his lofty position he looked 
 over the congregation and saw the Standish 
 family arrive with their guests, Ann, Clara, 
 and Harry Larkyns. Jane Thomas was doing 
 her best to make herself agreeable to him at the 
 time, but he did not find her foibles as excusa- 
 ble, as he had represented them to Mary but a 
 week before, and he was inclined to take refuge 
 in turning to the quiet girl whose hymn-book he
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 185 
 
 then had shared. It was a relief when the min- 
 ister arose and the whispering ceased. As soon 
 as the benediction was given, George, thinking 
 that he had done his duty, took care to slip 
 quickly down the narrow stairs. On the steps 
 of the church he met the Standish party and 
 spoke to Clara; as they were talking, Harry 
 Larkyns came up, and, almost interrupting him, 
 began to chaff George, whom he knew well, on 
 his kindness in giving his musical talent to the 
 service of the village church. Before he could 
 answer, Jane Thomas and his other acquaintance 
 passed them close by, and George raised his 
 hat. 
 
 " See how he has extended the circle of his 
 acquaintance among the fair ones, Miss Elli- 
 son," said Harry, laughing. "They say he is 
 quite a leader in society here." 
 
 Though the shot was fired utterly at random, 
 and without any evil intent, it irritated George, 
 and the color flushed into his face. 
 
 "You forget, Mr. Larkyns, that you told me 
 yesterday men could not get on without women's 
 society, and we had not come when Mr. Holyoke 
 joined the choir. Really, I should think it would 
 be very interesting to meet the 'people of a 
 place like this," she went on, turning to George.
 
 1 86 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 "One of those girls who just passed us had a 
 very pleasant face." 
 
 " She is very pleasant," said George, taking it 
 for granted that Clara spoke of Jane Thomas's 
 companion, but unwilling to say that he had 
 met her only in the choir, for fear that he should 
 be thought ashamed of knowing the people of 
 Stapleton. 
 
 " You must not let your friends here keep 
 you from coming over soon to see us at Corn- 
 lands," said Clara, cordially. " We must go ; I 
 see Mrs. Standish beckoning us to come to the 
 carriage." 
 
 As George walked home, it was with a smile 
 on his face at Clara's words and tone. On the 
 next day he went over to Cornlands, leaving 
 behind him Roger, who professed misanthropy. 
 Arrived at the house, he found the party gath- 
 ered for a day's sailing and fishing, reinforced 
 by Miss Caroline Anstey, the young lady with 
 whom he had consoled himself at the garden 
 party, and her brother Peter. Peter Anstey 
 was a blameless youth, one of those whose pres- 
 ence on such an excursion is very agreeable to 
 the other gentlemen of the party, because, in a 
 spirit of true self-sacrifice, he was wont to do all 
 the many disagreeable duties which belong to
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 187 
 
 the occasion, without self-assertion enough to 
 claim credit for his heroism. 
 
 As the party was making up on the piazza, 
 standing about with shawls and waterproofs, 
 talking in the aimless way that people must, 
 when they know the conversation can last but a 
 moment longer, some one noticed that Hilde- 
 garde still wore her white breakfast dress, and 
 had made no preparation for the excursion. 
 
 " Aren't you going to dress, Hilda? You will 
 be late, and we must save the tide," said 
 Caroline Anstey. 
 
 " I am not going," said Hildegarde, and turned 
 again toward Harry Larkyns, who was talking 
 to her. 
 
 " Why, Hilda, child, why are n't you dressed ?" 
 said Mrs. Standish, bustling into the room. 
 
 " I am not going, mamma," was the quiet an- 
 swer a second time ; and again Hildegarde tried 
 tq escape any further question by turning to 
 Harry. But now it was useless. 
 
 " Not going ? Why ? Don't you feel well ? " 
 said Mrs. Standish, anxiously. 
 
 Hildegarde was forced to turn toward her 
 mother and the rest of the party, who, hav- 
 ing nothing to say, had most of them stopped 
 to listen. There was the slightest shade of
 
 1 88 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 annoyance on her face, but no irritation in her 
 voice. 
 
 " Nelly is not very well, and is distressed at 
 being left alone. I think that I will stay with 
 her." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Nelly is only a little out of sorts ; 
 and besides, if she wants any one, I will stay with 
 her myself," said Mrs. Standish, who was an 
 affectionate mother, and very far from a selfish 
 woman. 
 
 " You can't, mamma," said Hildegarde, smiling. 
 " You are needed as matron for the party." 
 
 " I will act as matron," said Ann. " I think 
 that I have come to years of discretion by this 
 time ; don't you, Mrs. Standish ? " 
 
 But Mrs. Standish, though she did not care 
 to go herself, and was very desirous that Hilde- 
 garde should, yet knew that her daughter spoke 
 the truth, inasmuch as they were bound for a 
 day's excursion ; so she said nothing. ' 
 
 " Oh, Nelly will do very well with me," said 
 Hildegarde ; " and, indeed, I don't want to hurry 
 you," she went on, smiling, " but Caroline is right ; 
 and you had best start as soon as you can." 
 
 " Nelly will do well enough with you, of course, 
 quite as well as with me ; but you ought not 
 to make yourself such a slave to her,'' said Mrs.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 189 
 
 Standish, in a tone meant to assert for herself a 
 superiority in argument, without the least hope 
 of gaining her object. 
 
 " She spoils Nelly ; it is not right to give up 
 always," Mrs. Standish said in a complaining 
 tone to George as they walked toward the boat. 
 
 " I should not think it would do the child 
 much good," said George, perhaps with more 
 emphasis than he intended on the one word. 
 
 The day was pleasant, and the water smooth, 
 so that the party escaped most of the discomfort 
 which usually attends even a successful excursion 
 on the salt water. George found himself next 
 to Miss Anstey, who began at once to rattle on 
 in a way that, in time past, he had thought amus- 
 ing, but which now he contrasted very unfavor- 
 ably with Clara's easy conversation of the day 
 before, or with Mary Rogers's originality. Harry 
 Larkyns was talking away within a few feet of 
 them, trying to amuse Mrs. Standish, Clara, 
 and Ann, apparently with very good success, 
 judging from their frequent peals of laughter, 
 in which Peter, who made an excellent chorus, 
 good-naturedly joined. 
 
 George tried to talk with Caroline Anstey and 
 hear what was going on beyond him at the same 
 time; and although Miss Anstey's incessant cas-
 
 190 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 cade of words saved him from disgrace at once, 
 he soon was conscious that his face was broaden- 
 ing into a smile, rather in sympathy with Harry's 
 jokes than with Caroline's sentiments. Accord- 
 ingly he tried to manoeuvre himself and his 
 companion from a tete-a-tete into the general 
 conversation, but it was useless ; Caroline did 
 not take the hint, and showed a most flattering 
 preference for the tete-a-tete. At last, in despair, 
 George resolutely put temptation behind him, 
 and, facing around, made a valiant attempt to 
 understand what was said to him. Intellectually, 
 it should not have been difficult, but the laughter 
 and a few disjointed words still forced them- 
 selves into his ears, and, moreover, it was be- 
 coming clear that Miss Anstey had found him 
 out and was far from flattered. He was strug- 
 gling on, when Ann, as if casually, left her seat 
 and placed herself beside them. If Caroline 
 was afraid of anything, it was of Ann Brattle, 
 and her spirits seemed to fall even lower ; but 
 Ann entered into the conversation, and forced 
 George into it also, though the sound of merri- 
 ment from Clara and Harry Larkyns still made 
 him uncomfortable. At last, barely waiting for 
 Harry to finish his story, Ann broke in upon 
 him : " Mr. Larkyns, won't you spare some of
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 191 
 
 your jokes for us ? We are very sober over 
 here." 
 
 " Why, I thought you had left because your 
 intellectual mind could not lower itself to mere 
 amusement," said Harry. 
 
 " On the contrary, Miss Anstey and I have 
 been trying to make each other smile, without 
 success ; intellectual as we are, we need your wit 
 to enliven us." 
 
 "All that I know of true wit," said Harry, 
 rising and making a gesture of mock reverence 
 all the more ludicrous as a lurch of the boat 
 nearly upset him, " was learned by me as a pupil 
 of Miss Brattle. There, I suppose I must call 
 myself a very callow youth, to make that remark 
 a polite one." 
 
 " No ; I will forgive the slur on my age for the 
 sake of the compliment to my wit, if you will 
 prove yourself an apt pupil to Miss Anstey's 
 satisfaction." 
 
 The diversion was sufficient ; George, with a 
 courage he once lacked, leaned across and spoke 
 to Clara, and soon had engrossed her attention, 
 easily routing poor harmless Peter Anstey, now 
 his sole opponent. The conversation was a 
 pleasant one; George did not knowingly com- 
 pare Mary unfavorably with Clara, but he did
 
 192 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 compare Clara favorably with her former self, 
 not that he had blamed her before, but, without 
 arrogance, he really thought that he was doing 
 himself more justice now than then. Once, 
 indeed, as their talk was running on quietly in 
 the well-worn channels of every-day society 
 small-talk, it certainly did seem to him that 
 Mary had the more originality ; but before fix- 
 ing in his own mind that this was so, with an 
 ease which he was quite sure he had not always 
 possessed, he turned the conversation to more 
 serious matters. He was pleased wonderfully 
 pleased to find that Clara more than responded, 
 and that, to use a simile which forced itself upon 
 him from his occupation of two days before, 
 her ideas lay, like the large fish, in deep places 
 which a careless passer-by could not see, waiting 
 merely for an invitation to show themselves in 
 their power. Of course, when they reached the 
 fishing-ground the groups on the boat mingled ; 
 but through the day George felt that, instead of 
 hopelessly struggling for Clara's attention with 
 Harry Larkyns, who, he confessed, was cleverer 
 than himself, now, at the worst, he fought a 
 drawn battle. 
 
 The party had not left Stapleton Bay, when 
 Roger, who was reading, stretched on the grass
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 193 
 
 under the shade of a tree, saw their sail ; and, 
 taking up his field-glass, which lay beside him, 
 assured himself that the whole Standish party 
 was on board, mistaking, at that distance, Caroline 
 or one of the other ladies for Hildegarde. Soon 
 after, he had his horse harnessed, and drove in 
 the direction of Cornlands, thinking thus to ac- 
 complish a polite call without the risk of finding 
 any one at home ; for at the present moment 
 Cornlands society did not seem to him very 
 congenial. 
 
 He drove to the door, fastened his horse, and 
 with the want of formality for which Cornlands 
 and Stapleton were known, strolled round the 
 house to the broad piazza to look at the sea 
 sparkling in little ripples under the noonday 
 sun. As he turned the corner he heard a girl's 
 voice singing, stopped a moment to listen, and 
 then stepped upon the piazza, so quietly that he 
 was not heard. Going up to the window, which 
 opened down to the floor, he paused. Hilde- 
 garde was sitting at the piano with her back 
 toward him ; her little sister, who did not look 
 very ill, was half sitting, half lying down on the 
 sofa. For a moment Roger stood still, admiring 
 the erect grace with which she sat upon the 
 music-stool, and the contrast of her mass of 
 13
 
 194 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY, 
 
 flaxen hair with the high white ruff of her dress ; 
 then, as she began to sing the translation of a 
 German ballad, perhaps it was wrong, but he 
 did not go in. 
 
 " Thou'rt like an opening flower, 
 
 So pure and bright and fair; 
 As I look in thy face so tender, 
 
 Thou fill'st my heart with care. 
 Might I lay my hand on thy forehead, 
 
 And beg God, in His might, 
 To keep thee with His strong angels, 
 
 Like them so fair and bright." 
 
 When the song was over, Hildegarde came to 
 the sofa and knelt down beside it. 
 
 " And how do you feel now, Nelly ? " she 
 asked in a cheery voice. 
 
 " Oh, ever so much better," said the child. 
 " Do you know, Hilda, I was thinking that you 
 were like Cinderella, and mamma and the rest 
 of them like the proud sisters who went off to 
 the ball and left you at home." 
 
 " I am sorry you think I look like Cinderella," 
 said Hildegarde. " She used to sit in the fire- 
 place with a dirty old gown on ; now I thought 
 when I looked at my dress this morning that 
 it was very pretty, indeed I did. Besides, dear, 
 mamma could not stay with you to-day ; she had 
 to go with the others in the boat."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 195 
 
 Before Nelly could answer, Roger made one or 
 two loud steps outside to attract attention, and 
 then came in through the open window. Hilde- 
 garde rose, and came forward to meet him. 
 
 " I am so sorry, Mr. Urquhart, that you did 
 not come a little earlier ; they all have gone off 
 sailing for the day, and would have been very 
 glad if you had joined them." 
 
 " Are you sorry ? " said Roger. " I do not 
 know that I am." 
 
 "Yes ; they made a very merry party, and 
 are enjoying themselves very much, I have no 
 doubt," said Hildegarde, not as if she were un- 
 conscious of the implied compliment, but pass- 
 ing it over. 
 
 "And may I not enjoy myself here unless 
 your sister is too ill ? " said Roger, making as 
 though he would sit down. 
 
 " I don't think there is anything very serious 
 the matter with her," said Hildegarde, smiling a 
 little. " Is there, Nelly ? " 
 
 " No ; I feel better now," said the child reluc- 
 tantly, rising slowly to go out of the room. 
 
 " Oh, don't go," said Roger, who did not like 
 children, and sincerely hoped she would resist 
 his entreaties. 
 
 " No, stay here, Nelly ;" and Hildegarde went
 
 196 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 again toward the sofa, and sat down beside it, 
 facing Roger as the child nestled close up to 
 her. 
 
 " Evidently," said Roger to himself, " I shall 
 come in for only a share of her attention ; she 
 does not know enough to devote herself to her 
 guests, but is thinking still of her dolls and sick 
 sisters in the nursery." Nevertheless, he could 
 not but acknowledge that the two made a pretty 
 picture, and he turned to Hildegarde with a face 
 imperturbable as ever : " Your mother's fete 
 champfare last spring was your first party, was 
 it not, Miss Standish ? You go into society 
 next winter?" 
 
 " Yes," said Hildegarde ; " I am what they call 
 'a bud.'" 
 
 The vision of a white rosebud just opening 
 came into Roger's mind. "And do you look 
 forward to your first season with pleasure ? " 
 
 " Yes, very much." 
 
 " Do you know," said Roger, " that you should 
 not have made that answer ? You should have 
 said that you did not, because you were sure 
 that no one would speak to you, and that you 
 would not have a good time ; or, if you wish to 
 be thought very wise and good, you might have 
 made some remarks on the wickedness of the
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 197 
 
 world, and then have gone on to say how impos- 
 sible it is to enjoy one's self in such a place." 
 
 " But I hope that some one will speak to me 
 occasionally," said Hildegarde, laughing t "and if 
 they do not, why should I borrow care by think- 
 ing of anything so disagreeable, for of course it 
 is disagreeable ? Then, though I want to be wise 
 and good, I do not think I should become so by 
 calling the world wicked, in that way. There 
 are so many good people in the world," she 
 went on, looking straight at Roger. 
 
 "And so many bad ones," he added ; and then 
 was almost sorry he had spoken so flippantly. 
 
 " It takes a great many failures to make a 
 success. Sometimes it has seemed to me hard 
 that the failures get no credit for what they have 
 helped to do ; besides, I can hope that only the 
 good people will come up and talk to me." 
 
 "You can hope so only because if you will 
 excuse me for saying a thing which really is not 
 uncomplimentary you are very inexperienced ; 
 the sheep and the goats herd together very 
 amiably, possibly because the sheep are mostly 
 goats in disguise," he added, almost under his 
 breath. 
 
 " Then I shall have to look for the good that 
 is in the goats. It is not the goats that are in
 
 198 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 sheep's clothing, I think, but the sheep that 
 have put on the goats' skins, and perhaps may 
 take them off some time." 
 
 " Whichever it is, we all are sure to try to 
 appear at our best before you, Miss Standish," 
 said Roger, trying to make a gallant speech ; but 
 doing it with more feeling than those speeches 
 of his usually covered. 
 
 "Mr. Urquhart," said Hildegarde, quite gravely, 
 "you have just paid me the highest compliment 
 that you can make, and I should be too proud if 
 it were true ; but I am afraid that it is not." 
 
 " You mean," said Roger, " because I have 
 not shown my best side to you just now." 
 
 " No ; of course I did not mean that," said 
 Hildegarde, looking displeased. 
 
 "Nevertheless, I hope it is true that I have 
 not," Roger went on, telling himself that once 
 he had done Hildegarde great injustice. "But, 
 in all seriousness, society is not in a satisfactory 
 state altogether ; and I suppose," he added, in a 
 tone of concession, " we sometimes make it out 
 worse than it really is, and so long to get away 
 from it." 
 
 " Do you think," said Hildegarde, " that those 
 people who used to go away from the rest of 
 men, and live altogether with the caves and
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 199 
 
 rocks, really enjoyed them more than those 
 who were not such misanthropes and stayed 
 behind ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, I suppose so ; they gave all their 
 thoughts to Nature, and must have found more 
 beauty in it." 
 
 " I do not think so. I am afraid that the lone- 
 liness gave them more time to think about their 
 own hardships and others' failings ; besides, I 
 think that all beauty, like all goodness, is the 
 same." She hesitated an instant ; then she rose 
 and went toward the table, saying as she did so : 
 "There is a poem I was reading this morning 
 which will explain what I mean better than I 
 can say it : 
 
 ' When I look forth on the broad open country, 
 
 Bathed in rich color, as it turns to rest, 
 I drink deep down, within my inmost being, 
 The fairest vision that my soul hath blest. 
 
 ' Fair is the landscape, fair the line of purple 
 
 Drawn by the distant hills upon the darkening sky ; 
 But the grim wrath of man and grimmer wrath of Nature 
 Have wrested beauty to deformity. 
 
 ' Fair is the smile unfolding a child's beauty, 
 
 When, pure as snow, he looks up from his bed ; 
 But rain and wind, and wild and stormy weather, 
 And a long checkered life shall come before he lies 
 there dead.
 
 200 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 ' Fairer the glory on an old man's forehead, 
 
 His life's work ended, as he faces death serene ; 
 But the deep wrinkles that his work hath wrought there 
 Tell the sad story of his Might Have Been. 
 
 'Yet was my vision one of beauty wholly, 
 
 Unmarred by gloom, foreboding, or despair ; 
 Peace without blot, innocence without shadow, 
 And a long life perfected, all were gathered there. 
 
 ' Purged in the glow of the great fiery furnace, 
 
 Which, though unseen, still gave me light to see, 
 I saw the soul of earth and child and father, 
 Gold without dross and stainless purity. 
 
 ' And so I pray, on that unknown to-morrow, 
 
 Fairer than beauty is, more radiant than the sun, 
 A vision like, yet more exceeding glorious, 
 May be my goal in the life just begun.' 
 
 If I have preached, Mr. Urquhart, it is because 
 sometimes I cannot help preaching." 
 
 "Unhappily, I have heard very few such ser- 
 mons," said Roger. 
 
 The child made a movement on the sofa, and 
 Hildegarde went back to her again. 
 
 " Miss Standish," said Roger, after a moment's 
 pause, " my horse is at the door. Can't I per- 
 suade you and Nelly (if that is your sister's 
 name) to come with me for a drive ? " 
 
 " Oh, let 's go ! " almost screamed Nelly, 
 springing upright on the sofa. " I feel very
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 2OI 
 
 well, really I do," she said appealingly to 
 Hildegarde. 
 
 " I don't think it will do you any harm to 
 take a short drive," said her sister. " It is very 
 kind of you, Mr. Urquhart, and we both are 
 very glad to go. We will keep you waiting 
 only a moment ; " and she left the room, Nelly 
 prancing along at her side. 
 
 Roger sat still, looking at the ground, with 
 an expression he did not wear very often, and 
 it was a minute or two before a smile, not 
 altogether cynical, stole over his face at the 
 thought of his having come to Cornlands to 
 make a call without the risk of seeing any one ; 
 while now, without any need for it, he was 
 lengthening his call into a drive with a young 
 lady whom he once had called brainless, and 
 an ailing and fractious child. He was very 
 prone to laugh at such inconsistency in other 
 people, and he was honest enough to smile at 
 it in himself ; but the smile was in no wise 
 bitter, and much as he disliked children, he 
 admitted to himself that he should have been 
 disappointed if Hildegarde had gone without 
 her sister. In a very few minutes Hildegarde 
 and Nelly returned, the latter still in unre- 
 strained delight.
 
 202 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " I told you, Hilda," she said, " that you were 
 Cinderella; only the Prince has come himself 
 with the chariot, and we are going off to the 
 ball." 
 
 Hildegarde blushed, but she could not stop 
 the child. 
 
 " And what do you call yourself ? " said Roger, 
 jocosely. 
 
 Nelly was puzzled for a moment ; then she 
 said with satisfaction : " Oh, I am the fairy 
 godmother. I hope your rats have not been 
 changed into horses yet." 
 
 " I am afraid that my one rat has been, but 
 I must beg you not to change him back again," 
 he said with mock seriousness. 
 
 They drove off, the child prattling away, but 
 Hildegarde almost silent for the first mile or 
 two. Then, as Roger talked to her, not in his 
 usual bantering way of talking with women, 
 but seriously, though not on so serious subjects 
 as they had touched before, she responded, often 
 with a sense of humor at which Roger was 
 surprised. They were finishing the drive, arid 
 almost had reached the house, when, after a 
 moment's pause in the conversation, in an ac- 
 cess of frankness which he could not have ex- 
 plained to himself, Roger turned to Hildegarde :
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 203 
 
 " I am going to make a confession, Miss Stan- 
 dish. I don't know why, except that I have 
 an inexplicable desire to tell the whole truth 
 just now. I came to Cornlands this morning 
 under false pretences, for I thought every one 
 was away from home. I trust you will be- 
 lieve me when I say that I am glad I was 
 mistaken, and that when I call the next time, 
 you will think I really hope to see you." 
 
 " ' The best laid schemes o' mice and men 
 gang aft a-gley,' " said Hildegarde, with a smile, 
 as she stepped down to the ground. 
 
 " Yes ; come again, Prince, and we will play 
 Cinderella over again," shouted Nelly, in spite 
 of Hildegarde's efforts to restrain her, as Roger 
 drove off. 
 
 When the boating-party came back, and Mrs. 
 Standish heard what had happened, she seemed 
 well pleased at her daughter's adventure, and 
 spoke of Roger very warmly to Ann as they 
 went upstairs together. As to Ann, when she 
 heard the story she opened her eyes and said 
 nothing.
 
 204 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 XII. 
 
 IT was nearly a week afterwards, on one of 
 those bright days which come rarely in 
 summer, when the sun has forgotten to be quite 
 as hot as usual, that the whole party were as- 
 sembling at Cornlands for a long ride on horse- 
 back. The horses were gathered about the 
 porch, and Roger, George, and Harry Larkyns 
 stood together, remarking, with the usual sense 
 of masculine superiority, upon the time the 
 ladies spent at their toilet. At last the door 
 opened, and all three came out at once, for 
 women are very gregarious animals, and always 
 wait for each other. There stood Clara, whose 
 dainty, graceful figure made all fashions look as 
 if they were invented to set off her bright open 
 face and cheery smile ; Hildegarde, whose bear- 
 ing was never so stately as when she rode the 
 great black horse whose courage was proud to 
 submit to her gentle sway ; and Ann, whose cos- 
 tumes, unlike Clara's, seemed chosen through
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 205 
 
 a desire to catch up with the fashion, praise- 
 worthy no doubt, but unsuccessful, because their 
 owner never gave time enough to the pursuit. 
 They all mounted and rode off, George and 
 Clara in advance, Harry and Hildegarde follow- 
 ing, while Ann brought up the rear with Roger, 
 who had been prevented by Harry's better 
 horsemanship from joining Miss Standish. 
 
 " There are two things I want to say to you 
 before the press of my admirers forces you to 
 leave me," Ann began. " In the first place, 
 George has improved amazingly since he came 
 here ; he is not half so shy as he used to be. I 
 should think that he had been only practising 
 on the village charmer, if I were not very sure 
 that I knew him better ; certainly she has 
 taught him how to treat women, and I believe 
 that we have interfered in time and routed her, 
 after all. Don't you agree with me, my most 
 zealous ally ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Roger. " Think of the 
 scene at the lake that afternoon ; if it had not 
 been for that, you might have prided yourself 
 that she ran away through fear of you." 
 
 " I don't want to think of that afternoon ; I 
 would much rather forget it. No ; I cannot con- 
 scientiously lay claim to having frightened her
 
 2O6 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 off. But look at them ; how nicely they ride to- 
 gether ! " she went on, with a slightly sarcastic 
 intonation. " Clara is playing her part very well 
 and very successfully." 
 
 " Miss Brattle," broke in Roger, his whole 
 manner changing from listlessness to great ani- 
 mation, " surely you have not persuaded Miss 
 Ellison to play a part." 
 
 "And why not?" said Ann, defiantly. 
 
 "Because you have injured George past all 
 help, if you have." 
 
 " What do you mean ? Has it gone so far as 
 that ? " said Ann, with another touch of sarcasm. 
 
 "Whether it has gone far or not, George 
 admires and respects Miss Ellison as the per- 
 fection of what ought to be in woman. I do 
 not know whether he is in love with her : I do 
 not believe that he is; but, if he should fincf 
 out that she was trying to lure him away from 
 another woman, he would lose his faith in your 
 sex as completely as you tell me that I have 
 done. It would be a great loss to George, for 
 he believed in you once, while I don't know that 
 I ever did." 
 
 "Don't get so much excited, Mr. Urquhart. 
 To ease your mind, I will tell you that Clara 
 and I are not carrying out any deep scheme for
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 2O/ 
 
 deluding an ingenuous youth. I have George's 
 welfare at heart as well as my feelings of family 
 pride. And that brings me to the second thing 
 which I wanted to say to you. It seems to 
 me that you lay a good deal more stress upon 
 pleasing illusions, such as the superior nature 
 of woman and so on, than you used to do ; you 
 know that we are old antagonists, and I want to 
 understand your change of heart. May I ask if 
 Miss Standish's arguments have proved more 
 effective than mine ? " 
 
 Roger's brow darkened ; he had not felt very 
 amiable before, but his unhappy remarks made 
 to George about Hildegarde rose up to plague 
 him at every step. Ann saw his annoyance and 
 was malicious enough to press him further, per- 
 haps in revenge for attacks he had made upon 
 her in years gone by. 
 
 " Do you know, Mr. Urquhart, your foreign 
 trip has improved you immensely. I was afraid 
 that it would confirm you in your errors, but it 
 has softened your heart instead of hardening it ; 
 you will come to have faith in my sex at last. 
 Nay, I have reason to believe that a little child 
 may lead the lion once untamable." 
 
 " Miss Brattle," said Roger, with a smile which 
 had left in it scarcely a wish to seem good-
 
 208 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 natured, "they say that women never hesitate 
 to take an unfair advantage of an opponent, and 
 that they never forgive ; I think that common 
 report must be right." 
 
 " No, you are mistaken ; and I will prove it to 
 you." So saying, she struck her horse with the 
 whip and they both rode forward, joining Hilde- 
 garde and Harry Larkyns. The road was nar- 
 row, and in a few moments they separated again, 
 Ann and Harry now riding on before. 
 
 "Mr. Larkyns," said Ann, as they rode off, 
 "really it is a great pleasure to talk with you, 
 you take such cheerful views of life. I am feel- 
 ing rather blue at this moment, owing to Mr. 
 Urquhart's misanthropy ; but I know that you 
 will have cheered me up very soon." 
 
 " The world never will understand me," said 
 Harry. " I am not flippant, but very serious 
 by nature, and I am going to build up a good 
 reputation. Is the natural hue of those charm- 
 ing young beings over whom you watch with 
 such care beginning to shine through that coat 
 with which a beneficent Providence and their 
 untutored instincts have provided them, in 
 other words, have the dirty little children of 
 your ragged school begun to wash their faces ? " 
 
 In the mean time Roger and Hildegarde
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 209 
 
 rode on in silence for several minutes, Roger 
 still looking gloomy and uneasy ; at last he 
 turned to Hildegarde, and said almost sharply, 
 "Do you ever feel completely put out with any 
 one, Miss Standish ? You don't look as if you 
 did." 
 
 " Do you mean out of sympathy with them ? " 
 said Hildegarde. 
 
 " I was afraid that you never had gone farther 
 than"that. No, I mean angry with them, ex- 
 cept that ' angry ' is too large a word for so small 
 a feeling. Just now, when I left Cornlands, I was 
 in a happier frame of mind than usual ; but Miss 
 Brattle has found out every tender spot in me, 
 and has chafed them all. I believe she takes 
 the greatest delight in making me wince." 
 
 " I think you do her injustice. Ann has deep 
 and strong feelings, but they are so well covered 
 over that an attack upon them does not trouble 
 her, and I believe that she understands very 
 dimly what sensitiveness means." 
 
 " Her feelings are very strong and deep," said 
 Roger, almost interrupting, "so strong that 
 nothing can affect them, and so deep down that 
 nothing can get at them." 
 
 Hildegarde could not help smiling. " We are 
 told that we ought to treat others as we wish to
 
 210 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 be treated ourselves. Do you know, I think that 
 we often use that as a permission to inflict upon 
 others any kind of torment which we have 
 taught ourselves to bear without complaint." 
 
 She paused for a moment. Roger looked at- 
 tentive, but said nothing. " Sometimes I think 
 it is so with Ann. She always has been very 
 kind to me, but at times, when she is talk- 
 ing to other people, I am put out with her, 
 as you say ; that is, I tfo not want to listen to 
 her- any longer : I should be glad to leave the 
 room." 
 
 " And that is what you consider is meant by 
 being very much put out with some one ; you 
 want to go away and leave them. I suppose, 
 though," he said, his tone changing, "that to be 
 left by you is their severest punishment." 
 
 " Mr. Urquhart," said Hildegarde, with an 
 amused face, "do you think it is absolutely 
 necessary always to be paying compliments ? 
 I do not." 
 
 "Do you always object to them ?" 
 
 " No ; but they are valuable in exact propor- 
 tion to their rarity." 
 
 " Which is a delicate intimation that mine are 
 very worthless." 
 
 " If you force me to answer you, I must say
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 211 
 
 yes," said Hildegarde. Then, after a pause, " I 
 want to say something about Ann. I have spoken 
 freely about her faults, because I do not think it 
 would have been true or even kind to her to 
 have denied them ; I shall not try to praise her 
 for her many good qualities, because you know 
 that I am her friend, and because if I did I 
 should seem to be excusing myself for what 
 I have just said." 
 
 "Then you do not think that it is our duty 
 always to make excuses for our friends ? " said 
 Roger. 
 
 " It never can be right to speak anything but 
 the truth about them ; no, nor even to think any- 
 thing but the truth," said Hildegarde, almost 
 sternly. 
 
 They had been riding along the narrow, 
 wooded roads, now turning to the left and now 
 to the right, as the fancy of George and Clara 
 or that of their horses suggested. Hildegarde 
 alone knew the country ; but, as they kept on 
 farther and farther from Cornlands, even her 
 knowledge began to fail ; so that after more than 
 two hours' ride, when it occurred to George and 
 Clara to ask her for directions, even she con- 
 fessed herself lost. Now, under her guidance, 
 they tried to find some path which should lead
 
 212 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 among the bushy cart-tracks where the branches 
 swept within three or four feet of the ground, 
 and where stout saplings springing from the 
 stumps of felled trees almost barred their pas- 
 sage to a more beaten road. 
 
 It was some time before they succeeded, and 
 when they did so they were tired with the strug- 
 gle. Riding along the well-worn road they had 
 just entered, in order to get a view of the coun- 
 try and find the direction in which Stapleton 
 lay, as Hildegarde and Roger reached the top 
 of a small hill, she stopped, and gave a cry 
 of surprise. For more than an hour their view 
 had been bounded by the trees on each side of 
 the road; now, without a moment's warning, 
 before them stretched miles of salt marshes 
 shut in from the sea by glistening sand-hills. In 
 the dark blue water near the shore a large 
 fleet of fishing-smacks lay close together at 
 anchor, their sails still hoisted. As the sun 
 shone full upon them, resting there on the sea, 
 the sails looked like the marble walls of a great 
 island city. 
 
 " Venice ! " cried George, as the others rode up. 
 
 " But this surely is not the road to Cornlands," 
 said more practical Ann. 
 
 " No, it is not," said Hildegarde, coming
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 213 
 
 back reluctantly to every-day life from the voy- 
 age she then was making to the city by the 
 Adriatic which she never had seen before. " I 
 am sorry to have led you so far out of the way ; 
 we have a long ride before us." 
 
 At the foot of the line of low hills on which 
 they stood, between them and the marshes, was 
 open country, scattered over with farmhouses 
 which seemed of a much better class than the 
 sandy, barren pastures and occasional fields of 
 sparsely growing Indian corn would justify. One 
 of these houses, large, old, and rambling, stood 
 near, and just below them. 
 
 " Can't we rest ourselves in that house for a 
 few minutes ? " said Clara. " It looks old-fash- 
 ioned and hospitable. I must confess to being 
 rather tired and very hungry." 
 
 " Miss Ellison, your ideas are always the prod- 
 ucts of true genius," said Harry Larkyns. " Let 
 us start now, and eat up all the cake before the 
 others get there." 
 
 So saying, they rode quickly down the hill, 
 the rest of the party following, and kept on 
 until they reached the house. It looked very 
 easy and comfortable, firmly planted on the 
 earth, as if it meant to hold its ground long 
 after newer buildings had fallen to pieces. There
 
 214 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 was a little terraced yard in front, between the 
 fence and the porch, where the grass grew long 
 and rank, with one or two starveling quince-trees 
 and rose-bushes, and a few poppies and holly- 
 hocks. This yard was shut in on the two sides 
 as well as in front by a fence of elaborate con- 
 struction, which contrasted strangely with the 
 rail fences that enclosed the fields. There was 
 a gate in it opposite the porch, but the foot- 
 path leading to the house was untrodden and 
 overgrown ; the house and barn were approached 
 through bars which had been taken down, by 
 a track which led past the door in the L to 
 the open barn floor beyond, and here two or 
 three shaggy silver-poplars and willows gave 
 shade. It was clear that the front of the house 
 had looked gloomy and uninviting till within a 
 short time, for the shades of figured green paper 
 were pulled down in the room on one side of the 
 porch ; in the other, it seemed that the windows 
 had just been flung open, as had the front door 
 with its brass knocker, past which you could 
 see the white painted staircase ascend with its 
 light hand-rail and delicate pillars twisted and 
 fluted. 
 
 Clara Ellison and Harry rode through the 
 bars. He threw himself from his horse and
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 215 
 
 knocked vigorously at the back door. It was 
 opened by a girl who stood full in the open 
 doorway as the wind wrenched the door from 
 her hand and slammed it against the side of 
 the house. She had just come from the bread- 
 board and her sleeves were rolled up to the 
 elbow ; her common figured calico dress was 
 set off by two or three red roses at her throat, 
 and there was another in her dark brown hair. 
 Altogether, she failed so entirely to meet Harry 
 Larkyns's expectations, that for once in his life 
 he looked shy, and simply took off his hat ; it 
 was Clara who spoke. 
 
 " We have been riding for some hours, and 
 have lost our way ; would you be so kind as to 
 let us rest here for a few minutes ? If you will, 
 we shall be very much obliged." 
 
 " Certainly ; you can put your horses in the 
 barn there ; " and the girl pointed to the open 
 barn floor. 
 
 Clara dismounted, and Harry was leading 
 away the horses, when other hoof-beats were 
 heard approaching. Clara smiled. 
 
 " I ought to warn you," she said, " that there 
 are more of us coming to trespass on your 
 hospitality." 
 
 "All of you are welcome," was the answer.
 
 2 1 6 SIMPL Y A LO VE-STOR Y. 
 
 Just then George and Ann rode into the yard, 
 and both of them recognized Mary Rogers at 
 once. George dismounted, came forward and 
 shook hands with her slowly, almost solemnly, 
 then turned and presented Clara, all this being 
 done before Ann, who was still on horseback, 
 could say anything. 
 
 Mary greeted them all quietly, as well as 
 Hildegarde and Roger, who just then rode up ; 
 and she led them through the kitchen to the 
 large room with open windows which was on 
 one side of the front door. It was very differ- 
 ent from anything which the newer civilization 
 of Stapleton possessed, low, with the great 
 beams just showing through the plaster, the 
 floor without a carpet and unpainted, but almost 
 covered by rag mats with broad borders bright 
 as a kaleidoscope, and with black centres orna- 
 mented by curious conventional representations 
 of huge roses, poppies, and dahlias. There 
 were two or three quaint tables about the room, 
 of mahogany, with delicate legs fluted or inlaid 
 with slender fillets and medallions of bright 
 wood ; on these was a wealth of tropical shells, 
 which the more generous nature of a warmer 
 climate has made to be works of art for us. 
 There was a large cabinet with its bright brass
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 21 7 
 
 scutcheons and handles ; in one corner stood a 
 great clock, its intelligent steel face embroidered 
 with brass ; in another, an old spinet. In a 
 high-backed chair facing the road, and looking 
 out over the marshes to the slender line of blue 
 beyond them, sat an old man with great shaggy 
 eyebrows and a long white beard. You could 
 know he had followed the sea, by the folds of 
 weather-beaten skin on his throat and neck ; and 
 he looked as if he were watching for another 
 ship to carry him on a longer voyage. Mary 
 went up to him, and bending down spoke to 
 him : " Grandfather, here are some ladies and 
 gentlemen who have been riding a long time and 
 have come in to rest. This is Miss Brattle, this 
 is Miss Ellison, and this is Miss Standish." Then 
 she presented the young men. 
 
 " I am glad to see you all," said the old man, 
 in a broken, trembling voice, making a slight 
 motion as if to rise from his chair, which Mary 
 checked. " Sit down, ladies and gentlemen." 
 
 The others sat down about the room. Hilde- 
 garcle drew a chair near to that of the old man. 
 As they were seated, Mary turned to Clara. 
 
 " Would n't you like something to eat ? " she 
 said. " You must be hungry as well as tired, 
 after your ride."
 
 2lS SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " I should like a piece of bread," Clara ad- 
 mitted ; " but you must not let us disturb you. 
 It is very kind of you to ask us to come in." 
 
 " You shall have something if you will wait a 
 few minutes;" and Mary disappeared into the 
 kitchen. 
 
 " And where do you come from ? " said the old 
 sea-captain, turning to Hildegarde. 
 
 " From Stapleton, near where your grand- 
 daughter, Miss Rogers, lives. Does she pass 
 much of her time with you, sir ? " Hildegarde 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes, she stops over here a good deal," said 
 the old man, sluggishly. 
 
 "And she brightens up the house when she 
 comes ? " 
 
 " She opens this room and moves me in here, 
 where we used to live in my father's day," said 
 the old man, his face lighting up ; " and she 
 puts a red rose in her hair, just as my sister did, 
 who died when I was off on a voyage to the East 
 Indies. I brought her home that shell there ; " 
 and he pointed to a conch-shell, paler and more 
 delicate than the rest, which lay on the table. 
 
 "And does Miss Rogers look like your sister, 
 sir?" Hildegarde asked. 
 
 " I don't know as she does. Once, when I
 
 SniPLY A LOVE-STORY 219 
 
 was a young man, and had just been paid off 
 after a long voyage, I bought her that spinet 
 there up to the city, and brought it down here 
 for her. She used to sing at it, as Mary does 
 now, and I tell Mary she sings like her aunt ; 
 but the rest of them, they don't seem to think 
 so." He stopped. 
 
 " I suppose you have made very long voyages, 
 sir ? " said Hildegarde, after a moment's pause, 
 hoping to turn his mind to pleasanter things. 
 
 " Child, I have been to more places than you 
 ever heard of," said the old man, rousing himself 
 so that the rest of the party, who had not heard 
 what went before, were startled ; then, falling 
 again into the low tone in which he had spoken 
 at first : " Yes, you are a child, though you 
 may n't think it. More than half my days, when 
 I got up in the morning there was nothing to 
 look at but the sea ; and I could n't be happy if 
 I had n't a bit of the sea to look at now. You 
 are a child yet, and you can't tell how the sea 
 calls you when you Ve got too old, and know 
 that you never can walk a ship's deck again. 
 Sometimes it feels as though the land could n't 
 hold you," he went on, his voice rising again. 
 
 " You have a great many strange places to think 
 about, now that you sit here," said Hildegarde.
 
 220 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " Eh yes," said the old sea-captain, whose 
 head was again leaned upon his breast as when 
 they had first come into the room. "I used to 
 think and talk about them, when I first tried 
 to settle down here after I came home from my 
 last voyage ; but now it 's mostly of the house 
 in my father's time that I 'm a thinking." 
 
 Ann had risen and wandered across the room 
 to where the old spinet stood. There were a 
 few brown-leaved music-books in a home-made 
 music-stand beneath it ; she took up one of 
 these, and was looking it over, not noticing that 
 Mary had come into the room and was laying 
 a cloth on the table, having declined with thanks 
 Clara's offer to help her. Ann turned back the 
 leaves listlessly until she came to the titlepage, 
 when she wheeled round suddenly. 
 
 " Ann Winslow ! " she said. " How curious ! 
 That is my name;" then, noticing Mary, "Oh, 
 I beg your pardon, Miss Rogers ; I was sur- 
 prised at the coincidence." 
 
 " She was my grandfather's sister," said Mary. 
 " Her father was the brother of your great- 
 grandmother, which accounts for the likeness in 
 the names." 
 
 To say that Ann was surprised, would be to 
 mock the intensity of her feelings. She often
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 221 
 
 had declared that she despised genealogical 
 studies, and she was completely unprepared for 
 her discovery. If Mary had proclaimed their 
 relationship at their first meeting, or even later, 
 it would not have been so bad ; but Ann knew 
 that she had brought the discovery on herself. 
 However, she had not lived eight-and-twenty 
 years in the world for nothing, and the sur- 
 prise which she showed was much less than 
 Mary had expected, and, to tell the truth, had 
 hoped for. 
 
 " Shall we embrace as long-lost cousins ?" she 
 said, laying down the book and going toward 
 the table. " Perhaps we had belter wait until 
 I help you put down those plates," she went on, 
 holding out her hands for them. 
 
 " Oh, don't trouble yourself, Miss Brattle," 
 said Mary, not yielding to Ann's motion. 
 
 Ann turned and gave one glance at Roger, 
 then sat down. She was going to ask some 
 questions about the relationship, and had opened 
 her mouth to do so, when she stopped for George's 
 sake, thinking it best to pass over the whole 
 affair as lightly as possible. 
 
 The cloth was soon laid ; thin slices of bread 
 were set out in quaint plates of India china, 
 which had been Mary's delight when a child ;
 
 222 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 there were pats of butter stamped with the like- 
 ness of some impossible animal, and slender 
 silver teaspoons, dating from a time when deli- 
 cacy in workmanship and beauty in shape were 
 valued more than the weight of silver. 
 
 Mary gave a glance at the table, and then went 
 toward her grandfather. Again she stooped down 
 to him and gave him her arm to help him arise. 
 He made the effort, but was falling back, when 
 Hildegarde took him by the other arm, and lean- 
 ing on them both, he walked toward the table. 
 
 " Will you come and sit down ? " said Mary, 
 turning to the others, as she, with her grand- 
 father and Hildegarde, came slowly across the 
 floor. They rose, and had reached their seats, 
 when the old man, who had not seen so many 
 people about his table for many a year, and 
 whose mind ran back to his father's old custom, 
 leant his hands on the back of his chair and 
 asked a blessing in a voice slow, but firmer than 
 was his wont. 
 
 Quietly Mary disposed her guests at the 
 table, giving George the seat at her right hand, 
 and then, in a way which amazed Ann more 
 than anything which had happened yet, encour- 
 aged them to talk ; speaking of the road they 
 had missed in coming through the woods, and
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 22$ 
 
 which they must follow on their return, and 
 telling the story of the old house in which they 
 were sitting. She laughed at and answered 
 some of the rattling talk which Harry had 
 begun again to pour forth ; showed to Clara, 
 with family pride, a curious sampler in which 
 some ancestress had tried, with various success, 
 to combine dexterity, beauty, and morality ; and 
 asked Roger and George what luck had attended 
 their fishing. Ann stole an occasional glance 
 at George to see how he was taking all this. 
 He had shown pleasure, perhaps, but not of a 
 very lively kind, when Mary had given him the 
 place of honor ; now he sat almost dazed, as it 
 seemed, glancing once or twice at Mary, looking 
 sometimes at Clara, and scarcely speaking. 
 
 Lunch over, the gentlemen brought out the 
 horses, and the party started for Stapleton, 
 waving their farewell to Mary, who stood in the 
 doorway with her handkerchief thrown over her 
 head, as Roger remembered it on that Sunday 
 when she called him in to dinner. That time 
 was to him a long way off, and its interests did 
 not seem so important now. 
 
 " Mr. Urquhart," said Hildegarde, as they 
 started on their homeward road, " you were 
 saying the other day that there are a great
 
 224 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 many bad people in the world ; did you ever 
 think how many good people we must miss here 
 because they lie just outside our reach ? That 
 is what I have been thinking of just now." 
 
 " Your cousin is a most charming young 
 lady," said Harry to Ann. " Seriously, I think 
 she would do credit to any family." 
 
 "Do you?" said Ann, sarcastically. "Yes; 
 I remember that you paid her a great deal of 
 attention, now that I think of it." 
 
 " Shall not thy servant pay attention, as you 
 call it, to any charming young woman the gods 
 send in his way, particularly if she is related to 
 one still more charming ? " said Harry, wondering 
 that the clever Miss Brattle should be angry 
 with him for talking to a country girl. 
 
 " Mr. Holyoke, really I envy you the acquaint- 
 ance of such a girl as that," said Clara, heartily. 
 " There is something so fresh and original about 
 her. If every house here is like that one, this 
 country must be an Arcadia, with the stupidity 
 left out." 
 
 Of course everything was all over between 
 George and Mary, if there had been anything to 
 be over with ; but it is very pleasant to hear 
 the praise of your friends, and you think well 
 of the taste of those who give it.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 225 
 
 XIII. 
 
 IF Ann had refrained from asking Mary about 
 their relationship, it was not because she 
 cared nothing about it ; and, within a day or two, 
 as soon as she could get him to herself, she 
 questioned Mr. Standish, who, like most gentle- 
 men of his age belonging to a good family, was a 
 walking hand-book of genealogical lore. 
 
 " Mr. Standish," she said carelessly, " did one 
 of my ancestors marry a Winslow ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; your great-grandfather Belknap 
 married Ann Winslow. She was a most charm- 
 ing woman, and well known for her beauty. Un- 
 fortunately, she died young; but there is a fine 
 miniature of her which must belong to some 
 branch of your family. Have you never seen it ? " 
 
 " No," said Ann. " Was it a runaway match, 
 or anything of the sort ? " 
 
 " Most certainly not. They were married be- 
 fore all their relatives in the old Winslow man- 
 sion," said Mr. Standish, who, in consequence of 
 15
 
 226 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 his knowledge of family history, seemed to be 
 coeval with his own great-grandfather. " May I 
 ask what made you think so ? " he went on in 
 his courtly manner. 
 
 " Was her family as good as his ? " said Ann, 
 not answering his question. 
 
 " Very nearly. She was a great belle, and 
 your grandfather I beg pardon, your great- 
 grandfather used to go courting there with a 
 number of other young men. She was one of 
 a large family, and all the rest were boys : per- 
 haps it was that which gave her the charming man- 
 ners for which she was famous. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Belknap lived in the city for a few years, and then 
 she died. Mr. Belknap married again, I think 
 there were none but temporary widowers in those 
 days, but you are her descendant. Now I 
 think of it, are you not named for her?" 
 
 " Yes," said Ann ; " but, strangely enough, I 
 never heard of her until " she paused. 
 
 "Until I spoke just now," said Mr. Standish, 
 finishing the sentence for her. " You ought to 
 know about her and see her miniature. One 
 charming young lady should know about her 
 namesake, who was charming too, and who, for 
 all that she was born so long ago, we must think 
 of as always young."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 227 
 
 Ann smiled, and the subject dropped. She 
 would have been glad to see her new cousin 
 again ; but, although George's increasing atten- 
 tions to Clara Ellison encouraged her, she 
 thought it best to keep Mary in the back- 
 ground as much as possible. 
 
 It was sunset on the same day ; there had 
 been a shower, and the southwest wind spring- 
 ing up had driven the torn clouds over into the 
 east, where they lay piled up, and ruddy with the 
 glow which reached them even there. It was 
 after supper, and Mary had gone upon the roof 
 of the house at Wilson's Neck, to a little railed 
 walk which had been built there by one of its 
 nautical owners. So flat was the land that the 
 marshes, low as was the house, were too far be- 
 neath to come into the view, and Mary looked 
 out upon the sea alone, and felt, as thousands 
 have felt before, that though it often divides us 
 from our friends in the body, yet the sea can 
 unite us to them in the spirit, by stretching itself 
 out unbroken from them to us, and offering to us 
 the hem of the same mantle which is spread over 
 all Nature for them. 
 
 Her spirits did not rise when she looked on 
 the ocean. They had not sunk when she had 
 looked on it three years before, for then her
 
 228 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY, 
 
 mind had gone forward over those three years 
 as quickly as it could go back over them now, 
 and she had wished Herman Crocker to make 
 his voyage ; but she was happy now, now they 
 could be married. He had gone through his trial 
 with honor, she knew, and she believed that she 
 had faithfully gone through hers. She walked 
 slowly up and down, refreshed by the breeze 
 which had been cooled by the passing shower. 
 Soon she heard the rattle of a wagon, and look- 
 ing over, saw her father drive up to the house ; 
 she came down quickly to meet him. He was 
 climbing out of the wagon with much more diffi- 
 culty than he would have found in getting over 
 the side of a vessel, when Mary met him at the 
 door. 
 
 "Well, Mary," he said, as a smile of relief 
 came over his face at reaching the ground in 
 safety, " how is father to-day ? " 
 
 " He is very well," said Mary ; " he has been 
 better these past few days." 
 
 "Well, your mother wanted me to bring you 
 a few things, being as I was over this way. I '11 
 go in and see the old gentleman a minute, so as 
 I can tell your mother that I have looked at him 
 myself. Oh, yes ; and here 's a letter that 's come 
 for you while you 've been gone, a good big one,
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 229 
 
 too ;" and he handed Mary a fat letter addressed 
 in a handwriting she knew better than her own. 
 
 She took it and put it in her pocket ; for Cap- 
 tain Rogers's visit would be short, and she would 
 not lose the luxury of reading it through by 
 breaking it open when there was no time to 
 finish it. Her father went into the room where 
 old Captain Winslow was sitting, left him after 
 a few words, and started on his homeward 
 drive. She was going up to her own room im- 
 mediately afterwards, when her grandfather called 
 her, and asked her to read to him. 
 
 It was another delay ; but she began the 
 newspaper, and probably suffered less than 
 most girls would have done, for she felt that 
 Herman was coming soon ; he had been so 
 true to her that she knew what must be in his 
 letter, and the reading it would be as pleasant 
 at one hour as at another. At last Captain Wins- 
 low dozed, and going upstairs to her chamber, 
 she was free to break open the envelope. The 
 letter, as she felt it, seemed unusually heavy. " It 
 is his last," she thought, " and he means it to 
 be the best." As she took the letter from the 
 opened envelope, a sheet fell out, closely written, 
 but not in Herman's handwriting. She was 
 startled for a moment ; but the other shqet and
 
 230 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 the envelope were written by him ; so, not wait- 
 ing to pick up the fallen paper, she began to 
 read his letter. It was dated at Savannah. 
 
 DEAR MARY, When I left you three years ago to 
 make this voyage, I never thought that in these three 
 years you could think of me in any way different from 
 what you thought when I sailed. I should not have 
 trusted any one else so ; but I did trust you, not be- 
 cause I loved you. but somehow it seemed to me that 
 you did not change as most people do. You know 
 what has happened. Prue's letter will tell how well 
 I know it. 
 
 [Mary glanced at the sheet which lay on the 
 floor, and then read on.] 
 
 When a man leaves a young girl behind him, what 
 can he expect ? And, after all, what have I a right to 
 expect? I don't know that I can blame you. When 
 I went away, you loved me. I believed it then. I don't 
 know what I could believe if I did not believe it to-day ; 
 and now, because I think you must care for me just a 
 little even now, I write this long letter ; you will not be 
 troubled with another. If I have no right to speak out, 
 I ask your pardon. O Mary, I loved you then be- 
 cause you were not like the other girls that I saw, I 
 cannot tell exactly how, and I was so happy when you 
 took me, for I knew that I had a pearl of great price : 
 I was foolish, because I did not think how unworthy I 
 was to have it for my own. I did not think there 
 might be others who could give more for it than I had to
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 231 
 
 give. I do not mean money, Mary, of course he has 
 that ; but I do not believe that you would sell yourself 
 for money. He has everything that you want, every- 
 thing I have not got. I cannot tell but what he has 
 besides the only thing that I could give you, the love 
 of an honest man ; I pray that he has. I am glad I 
 heard all this before I got home ; it will save you the 
 trouble of telling me, and I have written to save you the 
 need no, that is not the whole of it. I have written 
 because I must speak out before I say good-by. You 
 can show this to him ; I have tried to put nothing into 
 it but what he might see. We shall stay here some 
 time longer before we come North. The voyage has 
 been a good one, if you care to hear that. Perhaps 
 you do, but I do not. 
 
 Your well-wisher, 
 
 HERMAN CROCKER. 
 
 Mary sat looking straight before her. She 
 had read the first few lines of the letter with 
 feverish haste, then she had gone on slower and 
 slower to the end. Not a muscle of her face 
 moved as she sat there, until, as with a sudden 
 movement she stooped down and snatched the 
 fallen sheet from the floor, her whole face 
 changed, and with eager flashing eyes she de- 
 voured it. 
 
 DEAR BROTHER, I write this to you in Savannah, 
 hoping that you may get it there, and so hear from me
 
 232 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 again before you get home. We are all pretty smart ; 
 father and mother have got through the winter pretty 
 well, and there is nobody dead in the village that you 
 care about. George Hawkins and his wife have quar- 
 relled ; she says that he did not treat her well, used to 
 slap her face and so on, and that he is wanted up to 
 the city for something he did wrong about his vessel. 
 Folks say, though, that she is tired of him, and wants to 
 get a divorce so that she can marry Rowland Marston. 
 It looks to me that way, but I don't know. John Wil- 
 liam Hatherly is dreadful sweet on Jane Thomas ; he 
 got Captain Bisha's new buggy and took her out to 
 drive the other day; nearly upset her, so folks say. 
 Captain Rogers's pride has got taken down a bit, I 
 guess, for Mrs. Rogers has taken two young men from 
 the city as boarders, and one of them seems dreadfully 
 gone on Mary. I saw him take her out sailing one 
 evening, and I heard pretty straight that he was wan- 
 dering through the woods with her at a picnic they 
 had over to Lake Marby on the Fourth of July. Folks 
 say that she has made a dead set at him ; I know she 
 asked him to come and sing with her in the choir. 
 He does n't seem exactly like most of the young men 
 from the city, I will say ; he is very quiet and respectful- 
 like, and Jane Thomas says he means business. I know 
 the city people talk about it. There 's one thing certain ; 
 and that is, what Mary means. I thought that she made a 
 set at you once, and was considerably cut up when you 
 left to go whaling ; but she is dreadfully stuck up now, 
 and won't look at any one but this city chap. I am real 
 glad to hear that you have made such a good voyage ;
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 233 
 
 you had a first-rate lay, and I '11 be proud to have my 
 brother home again, with a lot of owners looking out 
 for him to command a vessel next time. 
 Your affectionate sister, 
 
 PRUDENCE CROCKER. 
 
 The color which had left Mary's face as she 
 read Herman's letter came back to it again as 
 she read his sister's. When she had finished it, 
 she rose and walked steadily across the room 
 to the bureau, on which a faded tin-type of 
 Prudence lay. She took it up and looked at 
 it sternly and fixedly, her face full of anger, but 
 wholly free from passion. In a moment she 
 dropped it upon the floor and ground it to pieces 
 under her heel. Then she stood still, looking 
 down. As soon as she had read Herman's 
 letter, her impulse had been to answer it, to 
 clear away all doubts from his mind, to bring 
 him back to the full measure of the love he 
 had felt toward her ; but Prudence's letter had 
 wrought a change. How could he, on the false 
 witness of a foul-mouthed gossip-monger, how 
 had he dared to believe anything against her 
 who had been so true to him ? If his sister 
 never had written the letter, Herman would not 
 have insulted her. But if he had believed in 
 her as he ought, what effect could any letter
 
 234 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 have had on him ? Mary was not given to pity- 
 ing herself, but as she thought of the scene at 
 Lake Marby, how she had been true as steel to 
 Herman while trying to do the duty which lay 
 close at her hand to do for George, the sense of 
 injustice was too great. 
 
 " Herman is unworthy," she thought, bitterly 
 and sternly, as she walked across the room. On 
 a little table at the head of her bed lay his 
 likeness, kept there that she might see it before 
 she shut her eyes at night and as soon as she 
 opened them in the morning. " Herman is un- 
 worthy," she repeated to herself as she went 
 toward it ; and not until she saw his face there 
 did the full meaning of her words sweep over 
 her as a flood, and she flung herself upon the 
 bed, burying her face in the pillow. Herman 
 unworthy ! It meant to her at that moment that 
 her whole past life, her hopes for the future, her 
 faith in goodness itself, were gone. No ! Her- 
 man was not unworthy ; it was she herself who 
 had done wrong. She should not have spoken 
 to George, she should have repulsed him ; better 
 that she had been killed by the train on that 
 wretched night, than have escaped by his help. 
 And Prudence? Prudence was Herman's sister, 
 who had but exaggerated the truth. She would
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 235 
 
 write to Herman, and beg for his pardon ; per- 
 haps get it so. 
 
 But then, sharp across her penitence came the 
 thought was she wrong, after all? Had she 
 not treated George as a self-respecting maiden 
 should ? Could she, in truth and honesty, beg 
 Herman's pardon ? He had been deceived by 
 his sister ; he was not to blame very greatly if, 
 after three years of absence, he had been too 
 jealous. But could she truthfully acknowledge 
 that she had been to blame at all ? She would 
 write to Herman. She would not reproach him, 
 save that any answer must be a reproach. But 
 if she were to marry this man, and fervently 
 she prayed that she might marry him, she had 
 no right to refuse him the truth ; and her re- 
 turning senses told her that to cry out, " I have 
 done wrong," to humble herself before him, was 
 no truth, but a lie. 
 
 Slowly she raised herself from the pillow and 
 sat upright on the bed, her face hardening into 
 an expression almost as stern as that which she 
 had worn at first. Then, because it was late, and 
 her work began early on the morrow, she went 
 downstairs, helped her grandfather to his chamber, 
 put out the lights, shut up the house, and then 
 lay down to her rest, if haply she might find it.
 
 236 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 She went through her household duties the 
 next day ; but before it was noon found time 
 to go up to her own room and seat herself to 
 write to Herman. Though the white paper lay 
 before her, she could not begin. Time after 
 time a beginning framed itself in her head, only 
 to be cast aside as untruthful, or as unkind to 
 Herman. At last she forced herself to write. 
 
 DEAR HERMAN, I received your letter from Sa- 
 vannah yesterday evening. Whether you were right 
 or wrong in accusing me as you did, you yourself shall 
 judge. I shall not defend or excuse anything that I have 
 done, for God forgive me if I say unwittingly that 
 which is untrue I can find nothing in my acts or in 
 my thoughts in this respect for which I ought to blame 
 myself. In one thing your sister is right : we are not 
 quite so well off as we have been, and my father and 
 mother made up their minds to take two boarders. 
 One of them seemed to find pleasure in talking to me 
 as a friend. Even your sister has done him justice, 
 for I shall not deny that I enjoyed his conversation 
 more than that of any mere friend I ever met. If 
 I were to describe him as anything but what he is, I 
 should be insulting the love I have for you, by showing 
 that it had made me blind to the good there is in other 
 men, instead of helping me to appreciate them better. 
 He was able to save me from being killed by catching 
 me when I was falling back under a train of cars ; but 
 in this he did only what any man standing where he
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 237 
 
 stood must have done, and I do not owe him any very 
 great gratitude for it, nor did he claim any gratitude at 
 all. From a remark made by Mr. Urquhart, his com- 
 panion, which I overheard by accident, I had reason 
 to fear that Mr. Holyoke was coming to look on me as 
 something more than a friend. Naturally he did not 
 know that we were engaged. Whether he loved me 
 or not, I did not know then, I do not know even now ; 
 but, fearing he might be encouraging himself in a belief 
 which had no foundation, I thought it best to tell him 
 that I had given my word to another man. That was 
 the day when we walked together at Lake Marby. He 
 thanked me for the confidence which I had shown 
 him by trusting such a secret to his care, and I have 
 seen him but once since. Now you can judge whether 
 you have done right in calling me false, and in charg- 
 ing me with breaking my word. You know all, 
 more, of course, than your sister knew ; for I do not 
 think myself bound to render an account to her. 
 
 She paused. Her justification was over, and 
 she longed to put at the end of her letter some 
 word of love that should ask for love in return ; 
 but she feared that in doing so she should turn 
 aside from the plain truth she had tried to tell, 
 the truth which she owed to Herman far more 
 than to herself. So she signed the letter as she 
 always had signed her letters to him before, 
 "Truly yours, Mary Rogers."
 
 238 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 A FEW days afterwards, Mrs. Standish, who 
 did not wish her guests to weary of the 
 quiet of Stapleton, which evil-disposed people 
 might call monotony, proposed an excursion of 
 several days to the island lying to the south- 
 ward, whose shores, on a clear day, could be 
 seen clouding the horizon. She had come to 
 include George and Roger in the number of her 
 guests, and, laughing, used to tell the former 
 that he had better give up the pretence of living 
 in the village. 
 
 There were days when he would have been 
 very glad to take her advice. There were others, 
 when, finding that Clara was riding with Harry 
 Larkyns, he wished that he had the strength 
 of mind to give up Cornlands altogether ; for 
 he could not make out what Clara's feelings 
 toward him might be. The question became 
 more interesting day by day ; but the more 
 interesting it became, the more ingeniously did
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 239 
 
 the answer hide itself from him. She was 
 frank with him, showed pleasure in his society, 
 or, what pleased him most, confided to him 
 thoughts which he believed she could not trust 
 to all the world ; an hour after, she was laugh- 
 ing at Harry's sallies, or encouraging him in 
 one of his occasional fits of sobriety. There 
 were times when George cast about him for 
 some one in whom he could confide ; but for all 
 that he was a warm friend, and which is but 
 the other side of the same quality had received 
 the warm friendship of others, he did not like to 
 trust his innermost thoughts to any one ; with- 
 out father or mother, perforce he was accustomed 
 to stand alone. Whatever he thought about the 
 wisdom of going to Cornlands, his practice 
 never varied, and he accepted Mrs. Standish's 
 invitation most eagerly. 
 
 Roger accepted it also, but with very different 
 feelings. He had become very genuinely inter- 
 ested in Hildegarde Standish. When he was 
 with her she seemed to him thoroughly honest 
 in the frankness with which she spoke on the 
 most serious subjects. After he had left her, 
 a fear would steal into his mind lest it might be 
 some form of cant better disguised than any 
 he had met with before. Once or twice he had
 
 242 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 had added the last twist to his last dog's tail, or 
 had sharpened the point of his last flag-staff, the 
 painter, who in the mean time had been making 
 sketches from a kaleidoscope, came in and fin- 
 ished the work. 
 
 And all about, the worldlings were giving 
 themselves up to every kind of pleasure, inno- 
 cent or guilty. 
 
 Not three hundred yards from the sea, on 
 one of the chief thoroughfares, was the entrance 
 to the camp-ground. In a very few years the 
 stockade would be broken down, the worldlings 
 would wander through the deserted place, and, 
 according as their nature was, would jeer or 
 smile at the ruins of ancient fanaticism. But 
 now the battle was not over, and, securely in- 
 trenched, the faithful bid defiance to all the 
 forms of vice and most of the forms of pleasure 
 which attracted their neighbors. 
 
 Their houses, the most made of the lightest 
 possible frame covered with sail-cloth, and 
 crowded close together, formed crooked streets 
 and lanes where you could walk but could not 
 drive. Over many of these streets they had 
 stretched awnings and had made the paths 
 beautiful with flowers and rustic baskets, and 
 gay, because the houses, frontless like a tent,
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 243 
 
 were curtained within with pink or pale blue 
 gauze and bright with illuminated texts. For 
 these people had come to Grove Heights to 
 make a change in their lives and to get a breath 
 of sea air as well as to worship, and they had 
 enjoyed themselves very much in their own 
 quiet way until they had been cut off from the 
 water by those who did not come to worship at 
 all, or who thought that they fulfilled their re- 
 ligious duties by going on Sunday to a Chinese 
 pagoda which served on week-days as a concert 
 room and a summer school. Here and there in 
 an open space the good people had beaten the 
 sand into a hard floor, on which they had set 
 out the wickets for croquet ; and here at certain 
 hours of the day even the younger ministers 
 contended with the younger members of their 
 flocks. 
 
 But when Mrs. Standish and her party went 
 through the narrow gate which admitted within 
 the pale, there was not a sound to be heard, not 
 a person to be seen in the streets, and the few 
 people who were sitting quietly in their frontless 
 houses seemed ashamed of being there. From 
 lane to lane the party wandered, instinctively 
 hushed by the quiet of the place, unbroken by 
 man or beast, until suddenly, not far off, rose
 
 244 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 the sound of a mighty congregation of men and 
 women singing. They turned toward the sound, 
 and came in a few moments into the centre of 
 the camp-ground. 
 
 Around a large circle were pitched some 
 thirty large tents, each one able to shelter fifty 
 or sixty people. Through the middle of each 
 was drawn a curtain, separating the men from 
 the women, and in this primitive way almost a 
 whole parish might be lodged. On the end of 
 the tent looking toward the enclosed circle was 
 a placard bearing the name of the religious so- 
 ciety that owned it ; and in these tents, in the 
 intervals between the three daily religious ser- 
 vices held in the great pavilion, to which the 
 whole camp-meeting came, those who wished for 
 more edification gathered for prayer-meetings 
 and praise-meetings adapted to their special 
 spiritual wants. 
 
 Covering almost the whole central space, its 
 guy-lines reaching out on all sides to the tents 
 about it, was a huge pavilion holding many thou- 
 sands of people, whose central staff carried aloft 
 the great red-cross banner of the camp. Now it 
 was crowded with men and women singing to- 
 gether and drowning the feeble voice of a cabi- 
 net organ put far down in front to lead them.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 24$ 
 
 Mrs. Standish and the rest took seats on the 
 outer edge of the great congregation, which sank 
 down as soon as the hymn was over. 
 
 Directly in front, at one end of the pavilion, 
 if anything so nearly round can have an end, 
 was a raised platform for the preachers and min- 
 isters. Here were sixty or seventy men sitting 
 on long settees facing the congregation, men 
 from all over the country, of all ages and all 
 characters. There was the old country parson, 
 whose white hair was a crown of glory to a life 
 well spent, whose patient practice of honesty 
 and frugality throughout the week was far more 
 eloquent than his preaching in praise of the 
 same on Sunday. He knew how hard it was to 
 arouse the spiritual natures of his people ; world- 
 liness was a heavy weight round the necks of 
 the elders ; perhaps infidelity was alluring from 
 the narrow way the steps of the young; and, 
 worse than all, he felt that his own hope and 
 faith were not so buoyant as they had been fifty 
 years ago. He had come to the camp-meeting 
 to drink of the fountain of life, and to learn with 
 due humility from those wiser than himself how 
 to persuade his flock to follow his example. 
 
 By his side sat a callow youth, who might 
 be his grandson, just come from the seminary,
 
 246 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 vastly more enlightened than his neighbor, whose 
 prejudices he despised and whose nobility he 
 hardly tried to understand, a young man who 
 could criticise familiarly the great lights of the 
 denomination, and whose ambition would chafe if 
 shut in by the farmhouses and stone walls of a 
 country parish. He had come to the camp-meet- 
 ing because he wished his light to shine before 
 men, and because he knew that if his eloquent 
 appeals and irresistible logic could be heard but 
 once, every city flock would seek him for its 
 shepherd. 
 
 There, too, was a man whose unctuous, plia- 
 ble face seemed strangely out of keeping with 
 that of the white-haired country parson, though 
 the latter, perhaps, was unconscious of the dif- 
 ference. This man was powerful in prayer and 
 stirring in discourse, so thought the female 
 half of his flock, at least, though the men might 
 speak of sharp bargains and acts which savored 
 more of cunning than of honesty ; and so there 
 would be much strife between husband and 
 wife, and hard words on both sides, until some 
 day there would be a fearful scandal in the 
 church at Jonesville, and its appointed leader 
 would become a convict or an outlaw. Then 
 would infidels rejoice, as if they had not known
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY, 247 
 
 before that a clergyman's cloak is not proof 
 positive of his holiness. 
 
 To the small pulpit in front of the platform, 
 out from among his brethren, came a tall, thin 
 man, still young, with long, dark hair and beard, 
 and piercing eyes that blazed forth brightly 
 above his sunken cheeks as he looked out over 
 the congregation before he began to speak. 
 
 " Brethren and Sisters : I take my text from 
 words of the gospel familiar to all of you, - 
 words that you will not have to hunt up in your 
 Bibles, you have heard them so often before. 
 ' For what shall it profit a man if he shall gain 
 the whole world and lose his own soul ? ' ' Or 
 if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out and cast 
 it from thee ; it is better for thee to enter into 
 life having one eye, rather than having two eyes 
 to be cast into hell fire.' 
 
 " You have heard these words a great many 
 times with your ears, I know ; but I declare to 
 you that you never have understood them with 
 your hearts, any more than if they had been 
 spoken to you in a foreign tongue. If any one 
 of you saw a man walking at night along a road 
 which a hundred feet before him broke off at a 
 precipice that had no bottom ; if that man was 
 going along looking about him right and left,
 
 248 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 and singing as he went, you would call to him 
 and warn him of his danger. If he made no 
 answer, and went on singing as before, you 
 would call again, you would shout to him ; and 
 so you would do until, come to the edge of 
 the chasm, singing and looking about him still, 
 he sank down from your sight forever. You 
 would shout to him a second and a third and a 
 fourth time, louder and louder yet, as he drew 
 nearer and nearer the precipice. Why ? Not 
 because you believed that he was bent upon 
 killing himself, and you hoped to persuade him 
 to live, but because you felt that he could not 
 have heard when you called before. So I repeat 
 these words which have been spoken to you 
 before, hoping that some of you may understand 
 them now, knowing how few of you ever have 
 understood them yet. God has made me, as 
 he made the holy prophet Ezekiel of old, a 
 watchman to his people. He has put these 
 words into my mouth as a trumpet wherewith 
 to call you to repent ; and he speaks to me as he 
 spake to Ezekiel, saying, that if the sword come 
 upon the land, and I blow not this trumpet, ye 
 indeed shall die in your iniquity, but your 
 blood he will require at my hand. O God, give 
 thy servant strength so to blow this trumpet,
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 249 
 
 that I may not only deliver my soul from the 
 blood of these thy children, but that they also 
 may repent while yet there is time ! To-day 
 you shall hear ; you may forget next week or 
 to-morrow or to-night, or even as you leave this 
 tent. I know that many of you will try not to 
 hear, that most of you will try to forget ; but 
 once, for one moment, you shall hear, and, what 
 is more awful, you shall be forced to choose 
 between God and the Devil. 
 
 " If, as you sit here now, you knew that some- 
 where just outside this camp-ground two men 
 were throwing dice for you, and you knew that 
 if the first of those men won, you would be 
 condemned to pass the rest of your life in a 
 dungeon black as the blackest cavern of the 
 Mammoth Cave at midnight, without hope of 
 escape or any consolation until death released 
 you, how many of you could go about with 
 smiling faces, slandering your neighbors with 
 scandalous gossip, and thinking with all your 
 little might about the last new gew-gaw you 
 have put on your back, or the next dainty mor- 
 sel you will put in your belly ? It might be 
 that you could not change the fall of the dice, 
 that you could not help yourselves ; but would 
 there be an eye closed in all this camp to-night ?
 
 250 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY, 
 
 But if you knew that the chances were not even, 
 that it did not hang on chance at all; if you 
 knew that you surely would be condemned to a 
 punishment so awful that you could not con- 
 ceive of it, unless you made some tremendous 
 struggle, unless before to-morrow noon you 
 should go the whole length of this island from 
 Oldtown to Rainbow Head, would you go on 
 still, tittle-tattling and smirking, or would it 
 be that in less time than it takes you now to 
 drive a bargain or put on a bonnet, there would 
 not be left in this camp a living soul ? I hear 
 you all saying, 'There are not two men just 
 outside the camp deciding what shall happen to 
 us ; there are no dark dungeons waiting for us ; 
 and no pilgrimage to Rainbow Head or to any 
 other place will do us any good.' That is very 
 true, every word of it, it is nothing but a fancy 
 of mine ; but there are some things which are 
 real, and look whether you like them better. 
 It is not two men outside the camp, it is not 
 outside the camp at all, it is here, nearer to 
 every one of you than the man or woman who 
 sits next him on the bench ; it is not two men, it 
 is God and the Devil struggling in your hearts. 
 Would you rather fall into the hands of man, or 
 into the hands of the Devil ?
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 2$l 
 
 " There are no dark dungeons where all the in- 
 genuity of man has been put forth to torture you, 
 the rack and fire and thirst. When a man 
 falls into the hands of men, his body becomes 
 worn out at last, and his nerves so dulled that he 
 can scarcely suffer, and at last he dies. But in 
 hell the pain cannot bring relief; the Devil is a 
 great deal more ingenious than we are, and he 
 can make us so sensitive that the slightest 
 scratch would give us more pain than the most 
 horrible torture does now. And then, trust me, 
 he will not scratch us, he will do to us that 
 which is a million million times more horrible 
 than anything we can conceive. And there is 
 no death in hell ; it is an eternity of pain and 
 horror. Do you know what eternity means ? I 
 have heard its years likened to the sands of the 
 sea-shore in number, but that is false ; it gives 
 no more idea of eternity than if I were to tell 
 you that ten or twenty years made an eternity. 
 If one of you were bound to a mountain of liv- 
 ing rock, so that you could move neither hand 
 nor foot, and so that your chains could never 
 rust nor be broken, the time it would take 
 such a man to go from that mountain to the 
 uttermost parts of the earth would be an eter- 
 nity. And it is from such an eternity of such
 
 252 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 punishment that I cannot describe it, and that I 
 would not describe it if I could, for the very 
 hearing of it would blast you where you sit, it 
 is from this that repentance, and repentance 
 alone, can save you. 
 
 " And what does repentance mean ? If you 
 could escape from the horror I have just spoken 
 of by any sacrifice, would it not be worth the 
 sacrifice ? Is there anything that you would not 
 do that you might die forever and so escape from 
 hell ? Would you not be willing to starve and 
 beat and torture yourselves as the poor igno- 
 rant Catholic monks do, if that would save your 
 future life from hell ? But that is not what God 
 asks you to do ; you must lay hold on Christ and 
 be washed in his atoning blood, that is all. 
 But the saying that you will do or that you have 
 done these things may not make you anything 
 more than a hypocrite. It is not the saying 
 ' Lord, Lord,' that will save you. In the second 
 of the verses which I chose as my text, Christ 
 has told us plainly what the taking up his cross 
 means. He does not wish us to maim ourselves, 
 thinking that it is more pleasant for God to be- 
 hold a maimed man than one who is whole. He 
 does not wish us to be like the miserable der- 
 vishes who sleep on sharp nails and stiffen their
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 253 
 
 arms by holding them above their heads. It is 
 our souls that God looks at, not our bodies ; 
 the most beautiful man on earth and the most 
 deformed cripple are alike in his sight. But if 
 our hands or our eyes or any other things which 
 we possess are hindering our souls from turning 
 to him, we are to give up these things without 
 a thought. We bear the pain of having our 
 hands and our feet cut off, to prevent them from 
 rotting the rest of our bodies ; shall we save 
 them when they are rotting our souls ? 
 
 " But some of you will tell me that you have 
 repented. God forbid that I should be your 
 judge ; I cannot see your hearts. But let me 
 tell you it is no light and easy thing to enter 
 the kingdom of God. Repentance does not con- 
 sist in going to church on Sundays or even in 
 coming to camp-meeting ; it does not consist in 
 seeking after righteousness a quarter or a half 
 or nine tenths of the time ; it does not consist 
 in trying to make peace between God and the 
 Devil. Every moment that you leave hold of 
 God, though it be for a second and no more, the 
 Devil has you fast. You cannot be independent : 
 you must belong to one or the other ; and if you 
 die belonging to the Devil, he holds you forever. 
 You must seek earnestly after God the whole
 
 254 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 time in order to find him ; it is not God first 
 and business and pleasure afterward, but it is 
 God last as well as first. What should you think 
 of a man who was at the pumps of a vessel into 
 which the water ran so fast that it was only when 
 he strained every muscle in his body that the 
 water did not gain on him, what should you 
 think of such a man if, after he had pumped a quar- 
 ter of an hour, he should say, 'Business first and 
 pleasure afterward,' and should leave off pumping, 
 and dance a hornpipe on the deck of the sinking 
 vessel ? Or suppose the vessel had gone down, 
 and he was swimming for his life, what should 
 you think if, after he had swum five hundred 
 strokes, he should say to himself, ' There is a time 
 for everything ; I will stop swimming now, and 
 begin again in a few minutes ' ? Let me tell 
 you, friends, that to escape the Devil we must 
 pump and swim the whole time. You must give 
 up your whole time to the work of salvation. 
 When you get up in the early morning, in the heat 
 of the noonday, in the cool of the evening, and 
 when you wake up from sleep at midnight, you 
 must be scheming to get hold of God and to get 
 away from the Devil. I do not believe that the 
 Devil sleeps at all ; and if we must sleep some- 
 times, we must be all the more zealous every 
 instant that we are awake.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 2$$ 
 
 " And there are some of you, I am afraid a 
 great many of you, who think, though you may 
 be afraid to speak it out, that repentance is very 
 important indeed, but that it can wait. You ask 
 me if the laborers who began their work in the 
 vineyard at the eleventh hour did not get the 
 same wages as those who bore the burden and 
 heat of the day. Ah, my brethren, I wish that 
 any one of you knew this holy Book as well as 
 the Devil does ; for it was the Devil who helped 
 you to that Scripture. True, those last men got 
 the same wages as the first ; but you do not know 
 that they had refused to enter the Master's ser- 
 vice at the third and the sixth and the ninth 
 hour. I believe that they never had heard his 
 voice before they obeyed his call, and God for- 
 bid that I should compare a poor dying heathen, 
 who at threescore and ten clutches the gospel as 
 soon as the missionary offers it to him, and dies 
 happy in the faith of his crucified Lord, with you, 
 case-hardened sinners, who have heard the gos- 
 pel ever since you could speak. You, certainly, 
 will be punished not with a few stripes. And at 
 the eleventh hour there are not so many men 
 in the market-place as there were in the morn- 
 ing. A great many of them are dead ; and what 
 has become of the dead ones, you know. Trust
 
 256 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 me, brethren, a whole lifetime, from the hour 
 when we first can think, up to that moment 
 when God calls us to judgment, is none too 
 long to serve the Lord. His mercies are bound- 
 less, and it may not be too late for the worst sin- 
 ner on his death-bed to repent ; but sometimes I 
 think that when the last trump is sounded, and 
 some man tries to enter heaven, and shows a 
 death-bed repentance as his certificate of the 
 right to pass the gate, God will say to him, ' It 
 was very little that I asked of you. A whole 
 life given to my service is a very small price to 
 pay for the right to enter here. You cannot 
 choose the Devil on earth and Me in heaven.' 
 
 " Oh, brethren and sisters, if you could but 
 see where you stand, if your eyes could be 
 opened and your ears unstopped, you could 
 not live as you have lived, with hell opening 
 all around you and only one narrow way of 
 escape. If that way led to the destruction of 
 body and soul, still you would take it eagerly ; 
 but it does not lead there. There is another 
 question which our Saviour might have asked, 
 and which he has answered in another place, 
 ' For what shall it profit a man if he lose the 
 whole world and gain his own soul ? ' 'In my 
 Father's house are many mansions/ and what
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 257 
 
 those mansions hold, ' eye hath not seen, nor ear 
 heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of 
 man to conceive.' Compared with such joy 
 everlasting, shall we fear pain on earth ? Com- 
 pared with everlasting hell, shall we think of 
 earthly joy ? "
 
 258 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 XV. 
 
 ' INHERE was a large balcony opening out of 
 -*- Mrs. Standish's parlor in the Sea-Breeze 
 House, and hanging almost above the water. 
 On the evening of the same day the gentlemen 
 of the party were gathered there, smoking and 
 looking listlessly out at the moon-wake and 
 clown at the cluster of yachts at their feet, whose 
 lights were like so many fire-flies. Roger broke 
 the silence, speaking with a strange compound 
 of earnestness and superciliousness. 
 
 " Now, what sort of ideas do you suppose those 
 people got from that sermon we have just heard ? 
 Do you imagine that it produced some real effect 
 on them, or have they heard the same thing so 
 often before -that they don't pay any attention 
 when you cry 'wolf ?" 
 
 No one spoke, and, after a moment's pause, 
 Roger went on again : " And a precious kind 
 of religion they must have if they do believe 
 what he says. With a very much damaged
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 259 
 
 stock in trade he is trying to bully them into 
 doing what he thinks is right, bullying, with 
 a little bribery thrown in. As if there were 
 any great credit in keeping my hands off my 
 neighbor's goods when I know there is a police- 
 man who will take me up as soon as I take up 
 the plunder ! He must have very exalted no- 
 tions of human nature when he talks like that. 
 I don't wonder he had to get up the idea of total 
 depravity to help him out. Take a man whose 
 whole religion and morality (for I suppose he 
 would scoff at the idea that there could be such 
 a thing as morality without his peculiar form of 
 religion) depend upon such abject fear, and how 
 far would you trust him ? " he asked, turning first 
 to George and then to Peter Arrstey. 
 
 " Not very far, certainly," said Peter, some- 
 what faintly. 
 
 " No, I should think not ; and that is the kind 
 of stuff that these people hear every week. And 
 when they find out that his Devil and his hell are 
 as imaginary as well, as his heaven, they will 
 lose their morality as well as their religion." 
 
 " Come now," said George, " leave religion 
 aside for the moment. What would you have 
 their morality depend upon ? " 
 
 " That 's rather a strange question for you to
 
 260 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 ask," said Roger, turning toward him with con- 
 siderable surprise. " Whatever it depends upon, 
 it should be something more than mere terror. 
 The wish to help along the human race would 
 be a vastly better motive than that." 
 
 " Possibly, if it were a real motive ; but you 
 can see that it is not, because I am asking you 
 the question why these people should wish to 
 help along the race." 
 
 " Why ? Because it is the noblest aspiration 
 man can have; because it is right." 
 
 "And why should we wish to do right? Or 
 are you so bitterly hostile to the doctrine of total 
 depravity as to think that we have a natural in- 
 clination to sacrifice ourselves for our neighbor's 
 good ? Take the world as a whole, and I think 
 it hardly bears out your theory, Roger." 
 
 " No, I certainly don't believe that. Our 
 neighbor's good is ours in the long run, though," 
 said Roger, meditatively. 
 
 " I can't agree to that," said George, warming 
 to the fray, for no man was fonder of an argu- 
 ment than he. " Our good may be theirs in 
 most cases, but not always in the long run. You 
 would admit that it is sometimes right for a man 
 to meet certain and immediate death for his 
 neighbor's good ; without some such doctrine
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 261 
 
 as we have just heard, how can it be for the 
 man's good in any run, long or short ? " 
 
 " But surely you, George Holyoke, do not 
 think that every good action is dictated by fear 
 of the consequences of not doing it. It would n't 
 be a good action if it were ; and besides, you 
 know by your own experience that your doctrine 
 is n't true." 
 
 " Yes ; you don't mean to uphold such a theory 
 as that," said Peter Anstey, trying to take part 
 in the conversation. 
 
 " I thought we were arguing it out on the 
 plane of reason, without turning to our feelings," 
 said George. " Our feelings do the most un- 
 reasonable things, and act on the most glaring 
 absurdities sometimes. I have very little doubt 
 that the minister to-day was speaking according 
 to his feelings." 
 
 " Hush ! here are the ladies," said Peter, as 
 Mrs. Standish came through the open window 
 out upon the balcony, followed by her flock. 
 
 " Don't throw away your cigars," she said, as 
 she settled herself comfortably in a chair which 
 George placed for her. " We have travelled into 
 your territory, and ought to accept the customs 
 of its inhabitants." 
 
 " And when we receive such distinguished
 
 262 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 guests," said George, throwing his cigar into the 
 water, " we flatter ourselves that it is the height 
 of politeness to make them feel that the land is 
 theirs." 
 
 " Don't expect us to treat you with the same 
 consideration when you visit us in our parlors, 
 though," said Ann, " or you will find that there 
 is something which we regard more than the 
 height of politeness." 
 
 There was a pause, broken at last by Peter 
 Anstey, who thought that all pauses in conver- 
 sation are wrong, and that it is better to say 
 anything than to say nothing at all. " We were 
 talking of the sermon just as you came out, 
 Mrs. Standish." 
 
 "Ah," said Mrs. Standish, " I should not have 
 thought that you would find very much to talk 
 about in the sermon. It was hardly worth your 
 trouble, I should say." 
 
 " I quite agree with you," said Roger, dis- 
 tinctly. " Not worth talking about at all, except 
 that it is interesting as showing how a certain 
 class of mind works when it gets upon religious 
 subjects." 
 
 " Interesting ? " said Mrs. Standish. " I hardly 
 think so. I know how that class of mind works 
 well enough. Now, of course we believe in an
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 263 
 
 Evil Spirit, and in a place where the wicked are 
 punished ; but I do not think that it is good taste 
 to preach a sermon upon that and nothing else. 
 Of course religion is the most important thing ; 
 but we have other duties, and I do not believe 
 in harrowing people's minds in that way." 
 
 " Yes," said Roger, speaking slowly. " Even 
 if all that he said was true " 
 
 " I don't know that I quite understand what 
 you mean, Mr. Urquhart," said Mrs. Standish, 
 interrupting him. " Of course, in one sense it 
 is all true." 
 
 Roger was provoked at the interruption. 
 " Of course, as you say, it is true in a sense ; 
 but then, what is the need of speaking out so 
 plainly ? As you were just saying, it tends to 
 distress these people, and distress is not good 
 for most of us." 
 
 Mrs. Standish herself did not suspect in the 
 least that Roger was making game of her, and, 
 excepting Hildegarde and Ann, the rest of the 
 party were talking of other things. Owing to 
 the darkness, Roger did not see Hildegarde, and 
 he thought that Ann probably would appreciate 
 the conversation. 
 
 " I always have thought," said Mrs. Standish, 
 " that these camp-meetings did a great deal of
 
 264 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 harm ; people come to them, and their feelings 
 are very much wrought up. They get into a 
 very unnatural state of excitement ; then they 
 go home and are completely unfit for their ordi- 
 nary duties." 
 
 " Yes," said Roger. " Their thoughts become 
 very morbid and self-centred, I have no doubt ; 
 and I should think that they would find them- 
 selves unfitted for the wear and tear of every- 
 day life. One's whole life cannot be passed in 
 a camp-meeting, after all." 
 
 " No ; and they are apt to become discon- 
 tented, and instead of attending to their washing 
 and mending, and to their children and their 
 cooking, they neglect their home duties to go to 
 prayer-meetings, and that sort of thing. Not, of 
 course, that prayer-meetings may not be very 
 good in their way sometimes, but this unnatural 
 religious exaltation must have a reaction at last, 
 and then they are worse off .than they were 
 before." 
 
 " Exactly," said Roger. " We know that if we 
 are too strict with children, a time will come 
 when they will break away, and, generally speak- 
 ing, will go to the bad. So grown-up people 
 must have their fling. They can't be thinking 
 of religious subjects quite all the time."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 265 
 
 " No ; and they ought to think about their 
 families, and their children's clothes, and their 
 husbands' comforts." 
 
 " Do you know," said Roger, " I always had 
 a sympathy with Martha, who was careful about 
 many things." 
 
 " Did you ? " said Mrs. Standish, stiffly, for 
 she did not like to speak of the Bible in public, 
 for fear that by accident she might say some- 
 thing irreverent. " But you know that it was 
 our Lord to whom Mary was listening, and of 
 course that makes all the difference. One can't 
 reason from that to an ordinary sermon. Now, 
 I am very much more strict about going to 
 church than a great many people are nowadays. 
 I always go twice a day in the city, and once in 
 the country. I should go twice if it were not 
 so far ; but I think there is a time and place for 
 everything." 
 
 " And if that is true when applied to you, who 
 are rich, and supposed to have more leisure, it 
 certainly is truer of these people, who are more 
 or less poor, and have to work for their living." 
 
 " I don't know about my having more leisure," 
 said Mrs. Standish. " As far as I can see, my 
 time is taken up as fully as any one's. When 
 I am in town, there is the Aged and Indigent
 
 266 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 Female Shop-people ; and down here the days 
 pass very quickly somehow. Still, what you 
 say is true. Of course, we ought to be better 
 than they are, I suppose Ah ! Mr. Larkyns, 
 how do the preparations come on for our trip 
 to Rainbow Head ? " 
 
 "We have provided for transportation," said 
 Harry, " two carriages, if you like a high- 
 sounding name ; or wagons, if you prefer truth 
 to elegance ; or teams, if you have a fancy for 
 speaking the native lingo." 
 
 " I don't care what you call them ; but I hope 
 that they are good." 
 
 " They say that the teams are excellent and 
 the roads not bad ; but there is some mysterious 
 quality in the native mile which gets the better 
 even of the best horse, and prevents him from 
 making more than five in an hour. To think 
 that the fault is in the horse or the road would 
 be to doubt the solemn word of these poor 
 but honest men ; and I have n't the heart to do 
 that." 
 
 " I suppose that we shall get there well 
 enough," said Mrs. Standish ; " but how are we 
 to live there ? " 
 
 " As a long day (which would have been 
 tedious if it had not been for the brilliant con-
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 267 
 
 versation of the ladies) was drawing to its close," 
 Harry began, " and as the carriages were mount- 
 ing the last slopes of Rainbow Head, a scene of 
 singular beauty greeted the eyes of the travel- 
 lers. It was no natural object that excited their 
 admiration, for the gayly colored cliffs could not 
 yet be seen, and there were no other natural ob- 
 jects on Rainbow Head except a few dilapidated 
 furze-bushes and a great deal of sand ; it was 
 not even the light-house : the parting rays of the 
 setting sun shed a slightly pinkish glory on the 
 tented walls of a neatly pitched encampment, 
 from the central pavilion of which floated the 
 ancestral banner of the Standishes. I trust you 
 have an ancestral banner, Mrs. Standish." 
 
 " I never have seen it. But tell me, will 
 an ancestral banner keep the mosquitoes and 
 toads out of the tents and the sand out of the 
 butter ? " 
 
 " How can you doubt it ? " said Harry. " I 
 appeal to your reading and to your experience. 
 Tell me (if you will allow me to use the Socratic 
 method), when your friends camped out, as they 
 vulgarly called it, did they take an ancestral 
 banner with them ? " 
 
 " Not that I ever heard of," said Mrs. Standish, 
 smiling.
 
 268 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " But I think that they did have mosquitoes 
 and toads and so forth, did they not ? " 
 
 " So they said." 
 
 " Exactly ; they were quite sure to mention 
 it. Now, when Richard Coeur de Lion, or some 
 other hero, slept on the tented field, was he not 
 very careful to have an ancestral banner in the 
 vicinity ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I believe so." 
 
 "And, I appeal to you, is it mentioned any- 
 where that his tent was full of mosquitoes and 
 toads, or even that his butter was mixed with 
 sand ? Did he ever say, ' Ho, Sir Roger, remove 
 that toad ; ' or, ' What mean ye, minions, by sand- 
 ing this butter ' ? Now there certainly was sand 
 in Palestine, and therefore it must have been the 
 ancestral banner that kept it out of his tent." 
 
 " I am convinced," said Mrs. Standish. " Are 
 you going in, Clara?" she said, turning round, 
 as Clara, followed by George, went into the 
 house. 
 
 " I have persuaded Miss Ellison," said George, 
 "to take a short stroll on the esplanade, unless 
 you object," he added. 
 
 "I oh, not in the least," said Mrs. Standish, 
 laughing good-naturedly. 
 
 "And may I ask you, Miss Standish," said
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 269 
 
 Roger, " if you will give me the pleasure of 
 acting as your escort ? " 
 
 Hildegarde .looked up, with an expression on 
 her face which showed plainly that she meant to 
 refuse ; but her mother spoke before her. " Yes, 
 go, Hilda dear ; it will be very amusing down 
 there." Still Hildegarde looked doubtful ; but 
 at last her face changed suddenly. She said, 
 " Thank you," and disappeared with Roger. 
 
 The esplanade was full of people, strolling 
 leisurely up and down, laughing, talking, and 
 pretending to listen to the band. Roger and 
 Hildegarde threaded their way through the 
 crowd, Roger amusing himself by watching the 
 varied expressions of face, brought out the more 
 distinctly as group after group came out of the 
 darkness into the glare of a lamp and then 
 faded into darkness again. Real conversation 
 was impossible in the hubbub and confusion; 
 and, when they had reached the end of the 
 promenade, Roger proposed that they should 
 turn into one of the quiet streets running back 
 from the beach, and look at the camp-meeting 
 by night. Hildegarde assented, and in a few 
 steps the bustle of the crowd had turned into 
 silence scarcely broken by the distant music of 
 the band.
 
 2/0 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 "What a relief!" said Roger. "You will find 
 just such a relief at some ball next winter when 
 you get away from the heat and turmoil of a 
 ball-room, and the everlasting noise of a piano 
 and a cornet, into some quiet place where you 
 can sit down and talk about something besides 
 the smoothness of the floor and the comparative 
 stupidity of the last ball. Do you know, though," 
 he went on, " I hardly can imagine you talking 
 about such things." 
 
 " Why ? " said Hildegarde, in a tone which 
 startled him, though it was low and quiet. 
 
 " Why ? " said Roger, repeating the question. 
 " Because but, if you will pardon me for ask- 
 ing before I answer, what have I said or done 
 to displease you ? " 
 
 There was a pause. Hildegarde walked on, 
 looking down at the ground ; then, just as 
 Roger would have broken the silence himself, 
 she looked up and spoke, this time without a 
 trace of displeasure in her voice. 
 
 "I am going to tell you perfectly frankly, 
 Mr. Urquhart, and not try in the least to pre- 
 tend that I am not " she paused for a word 
 "disappointed, if you wish me to." 
 
 " Certainly ; I do wish it," he said, much 
 surprised.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 271 
 
 "You were talking just now to my mother," 
 said Hildegarde, " about the sermon we heard 
 to-day. My mother said many things about it 
 which she hardly meant ; at any rate, she did 
 not think of the meaning which might be given 
 to her words. But you knew what yours meant, 
 and, either because it pleased you to agree 
 with her, or because you wished to make fun 
 of her, you said that which I believe you know 
 is not true." 
 
 "I how do you mean ? " said Roger, trying 
 to gain time. 
 
 " You acknowledged that what the minister 
 said is true in a sense. You know that if 
 it is true at all, it cannot be right for men to 
 spend part of their lives in doing wrong, and 
 that it is nothing but the truth to say that every 
 minute of a long life is not too much time to 
 spend in God's service." 
 
 "But surely," said Roger, "you do not think 
 that we are to be dragooned into doing good ? " 
 
 " I did not expect you to agree with the ser- 
 mon, Mr. Urquhart," said Hildegarde, gently. 
 " Mr. Anstey said that you were talking about 
 it just as we came out. I believe you said then 
 what you honestly thought, that when the min- 
 ister spoke about heaven and hell, he- was trying
 
 2/2 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 to frighten us with a story as foolish as that of 
 Juggernaut. Why did you not tell my mother 
 the same thing ? It would have been a great 
 deal better argument in favor of leading a 
 worldly life," she added, with almost a smile. 
 
 " You hardly would expect me to discuss 
 the foundation of our religious ideas, Miss 
 Standish," said Roger ; " it was hardly the place 
 for that." 
 
 " I had expected you to speak the truth," said 
 Hildegarde, in a tone which touched Roger. 
 
 "But I agreed with your mother," he went 
 on, after a moment's pause. " Perhaps I do not 
 agree with you, and that may be my fault ; but I 
 do agree with your mother that camp-meetings 
 often do much harm. I have thought so many 
 times." 
 
 " My mother has not thought very much about 
 it, and I am afraid that she did not realize what 
 she was saying ; but, so far as she did realize, 
 she spoke honestly. My mother does not like 
 a religion that rests too much on the emotions ; 
 neither do you, because you are very doubtful 
 whether there is any use in religion at all. Mr. 
 Urquhart, I am afraid that you may quote what 
 you have heard to-day to show how useless 
 modern religion is. Don't you think that you,
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 273 
 
 if you had spoken the truth, might have made 
 my mother see it too ? " 
 
 "You do me injustice, Miss Standish," said 
 Roger. " I never thought of comparing the 
 preacher's account of hell to Juggernaut, and 
 I trust I am not without religion. Shall I con- 
 fess," he went on more fluently, " that I did not 
 expect to hear you defending a religion which 
 rests on a kind of brute terror ? I know that 
 you can defend it only in the abstract ; you do 
 not practise religion on any such motives." 
 
 " If I were to tell you now, Mr. Urquhart, that 
 now I believe you meant what you said to my 
 mother, I should do wrong to you, for I should 
 not speak the truth, and I cannot change my 
 belief; but as you tell me that I was mistaken, 
 I can beg your pardon for what I said and for 
 what I think, and I do beg it." 
 
 The two walked on a few steps in silence ; 
 then Hildegarde looked up and said brightly, 
 though Roger thought that her voice trembled 
 a little: "What a jolly family party it is in 
 front of that house ! See how happy they all 
 are ! " She was looking at a house in front of 
 which grandparents and parents and children 
 were gathered, sitting in their arm-chairs, or 
 talking in low tones, or rolling over each other 
 i3
 
 2/4 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 on the grass, enjoying the evening after the heat 
 of the day. 
 
 "Miss Standish," said Roger, in a voice so 
 changed that she almost started, "it is I who 
 ought to beg your pardon. I did not speak the 
 truth to your mother on the balcony any more 
 than I spoke it to you just now. I am ashamed 
 of myself. Will you forgive me ? " 
 
 " I don't know that I have anything to for- 
 give," said Hildegarde, gently. " I thank you." 
 
 They went on through a gate in the stockade 
 into the camp-ground, and in a few steps reached 
 the pavilion, now dark and deserted. From one 
 or two of the tents surrounding it came the 
 voices of men speaking at prayer-meetings 
 which were gathered even at that late hour. 
 Roger and Hildegarde sat down upon one of 
 the benches of the pavilion. 
 
 "Miss Standish," said Roger, "may I ask 
 now the question which you very properly did 
 not answer when I asked it a few minutes ago ? 
 Before you came out upon the balcony, George 
 was trying to prove that all our good actions 
 must have their motive in a fear of the conse- 
 quences, very much such a doctrine as we 
 heard here to-day. Surely you do not agree with 
 him?"
 
 SIMPLY A LOTS-STORY. 275 
 
 " I can only pity a man who preaches as that 
 man did to-day," said Hildegarde, "for certainly 
 he believed everything that he said. A man 
 who does not love his God must be very un- 
 happy," she said softly ; " and one who loves 
 him will find so much to do in his service that 
 there will be no time left to think about hell at 
 all, or even about heaven except as a place where 
 we can serve him better than we do here." 
 
 "If there be a God," said Roger, " I cannot 
 believe that he is pleased by such fearful service 
 as that minister must give him." 
 
 " There are all kinds of service, but I cannot 
 think that the best rests even upon the hope of 
 heaven. We must serve the Lord by serving 
 his creatures, and I know he will not grudge the 
 time we take from thoughts of heaven and hell to 
 spend on the poor or in making our homes and 
 friends happy. Mr. Urquhart, I believe that a 
 man, who, when he came face to face with his 
 Father, could say with truth, ' Lord, I have not 
 worshipped Thee as much as other men ; all my 
 waking hours I have tried to serve my fellow- 
 men, and my labor never came to an end, for the 
 harvest was very great and the laborers very 
 few, and, save for a moment now and then, and 
 for the many times when Thou hast come to me
 
 276 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 in my dreams, I have hardly thought on Thee at 
 all,' if there were a man who could say that 
 honestly and truthfully, he would find the only 
 change in heaven to be that he could rest in 
 the love of his God while he worked for him." 
 
 " We do all this for the love of God," said 
 Roger, after a pause ; " but if we do not think of 
 heaven and hell, why do we love him ? " he asked, 
 remembering George's question. 
 
 " We cannot help loving those who love us," 
 said Hildegarde. 
 
 They left the pavilion and went back toward 
 the hotel through the narrow lanes of the camp- 
 ground, lighted by the lanterns that each cot- 
 tager was compelled to keep burning all night, 
 and which hung in front of his house above the 
 bucket of water which he put there for fear of 
 fire. Just as they reached the outer world they 
 saw George and Clara walking slowly, and appar- 
 ently deep in earnest conversation. Roger and 
 Hildegarde looked at each other, and smiled. 
 
 " Evidently you are not a natural match-maker, 
 like most women, Miss Standish," said Roger, after 
 a moment, " or you would begin to talk about the 
 chances of that ' coming to something.' " 
 
 " It is too disappointing a trade," said Hilde- 
 garde, laughing. " One's friends are shamefully
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 277 
 
 obstinate, and very inconsiderate of the match- 
 maker's feelings." 
 
 "And there is another feminine frailty 
 may I call it? that you lack. You have no 
 curiosity to hear what they are saying." 
 
 " Mr. Urquhart, you will make me out a sort 
 of female ogre." 
 
 " I am willing to believe you are something 
 quite as wonderful," said Roger, quickly. 
 
 " You interrupted me, which was not fair," 
 said Hildegarde. " I have plenty of curiosity, 
 and if it were honorable, I should like very 
 much to know what they are talking about." 
 
 " The weather, probably," said Roger. " It 
 generally is the weather when people look so 
 very sentimental." 
 
 " Come, Mr. Urquhart, it is not fair to watch 
 them," said Hildegarde. 
 
 When Roger and Hildegarde came into the 
 parlor where Mrs. Standish was sitting alone, 
 she looked up with a smile. "Well, have you 
 had a pleasant walk ? " 
 
 "Very," said Roger. " I can say so for myself, 
 and, bold as it may seem, I think I may say so 
 for Miss Standish too ; for," he said in a lower 
 tone, as he took Hildegarde's hand to say good- 
 night, "you always take pleasure in doing good."
 
 2/8 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 THE party did not start for Rainbow Head 
 until the next afternoon ; and in the morn- 
 ing Ann, Clara, and Caroline Anstey were sitting 
 together talking, while they kept their hands 
 busy with embroidery or crochet-work or some 
 one of the fifty female occupations which pre- 
 vent Satan from finding mischief for idle hands 
 to do, while they leave him ample room to use the 
 idle tongue for any purpose he fancies. Caroline 
 was looking out of the window. 
 
 " There goes Roger Urquhart," she said, as 
 Roger came into sight on the esplanade below. 
 " How pleased he looks, as if the whole world 
 was before him where to choose ! " 
 
 " I should like to be as happy as Roger Urqu- 
 hart," said Ann ; " he always is perfectly satis- 
 fied with himself. Now, I could bear to be dis- 
 appointed in other people sometimes, and even 
 to have luck run against me for a day or two 
 now and then, if I were always perfectly sure
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 279 
 
 that it was wholly because of other people's 
 foolishness." 
 
 " Oh, you do believe that you are wrong 
 sometimes, then ? " said Caroline, turning round 
 and speaking rather tartly. 
 
 " Of course. Why, don't you, dear ? " said Ann. 
 
 "Yes, I do ; but then it is natural that I should. 
 I thought you were superior to such things ; 
 really I did." 
 
 "Your humility is one of the most charming 
 traits of your character, Carrie ; it always makes 
 you so generous and fair when you speak of 
 other people." 
 
 " You are hard on Mr. Urquhart," said Clara. 
 " Most of us have to put a good price on our- 
 selves, so as to leave a respectable average after 
 such stern people as you and Carrie," she said, 
 laughing, " have been putting us down. He 
 does not parade his good opinion of himself very 
 often ; and it shows something for him," she 
 added, after a moment's pause, " that he admires 
 Hildegarde so much." 
 
 "Why shouldn't he admire Hilda as well as 
 any one else ? " said Caroline. " The way you and 
 Ann go on about Hildegarde Standish is almost 
 too much for me. I know she is a good girl, but 
 so are plenty of other people."
 
 280 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " You must have found that out very lately," 
 said Ann ; " but never mind, so long as you have 
 found it out at last." Then, turning to Clara, she 
 went on : "If I thought he truly admired Hilde- 
 garde, I should agree with you ; but he is only 
 trying some of his miserable psychological experi- 
 ments. I know him too well to be taken in." 
 
 " You know enough, if you know the meaning 
 of all those long words," said Caroline, more 
 good-naturedly. 
 
 " I confess I should like very much to see him 
 over head and ears in love," said Clara. " I wish 
 I could look at him when he proposes, and see 
 him really anxious for once in his life." 
 
 " Oh, he would n't be particularly anxious," 
 said Ann. "I don't think he would believe in 
 the possibility of any one's refusing him ; prob- 
 ably he would remember to say that he was 
 anxious, because he knows that is the correct 
 thing to say. I doubt if he even thinks it is the 
 correct thing to feel." 
 
 " Nonsense, Ann ! We all know how you and 
 Mr. Urquhart used to discuss together every 
 kind of question, and you will make us think he 
 always got the better of you," said Clara, with 
 a smile. " You 've made up an imaginary Roger 
 Urquhart out of what you have read in novels ;
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 281 
 
 and now you stick needles into the image, hoping 
 that the real man will ' pine away and die,' as they 
 do in fairy stories. Idiots who think they are 
 universal lady-killers went out of fashion two or 
 three generations ago." 
 
 "Oh, I did n't mean that Roger Urquhart was 
 that kind of a fool ! " said Ann, briskly. " I am 
 sure I beg his pardon if I gave you that idea. 
 Certainly he does not go round imagining that 
 he has made a conquest of every young woman 
 he meets ; it 's very seldom that he condescends 
 to think about young women at all. But if he 
 were, by some chance, to think of a particular 
 young woman, why, it would be all the greater 
 honor for her, and of course she could n't refuse 
 the honor, you know, my dear." 
 
 " She is very fair and generous when she 
 speaks of other people, is n't she? " said Caroline. 
 " There is George Holyoke." she went on, look- 
 ing out of the window again. "Now that there 
 are no ladies by, he dares say that his soul is his 
 own ; but a more shamefaced man when he is 
 with us, I do not wish to see." 
 
 Ann was irritated by the tone in which Caro- 
 line was talking, yet she was pleased at having 
 a chance to speak out something that had been 
 on her mind ; so, instead of flaring up in defence
 
 282 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 of her cousin, she said, more quietly than she 
 yet had done, speaking first to Caroline and 
 then turning toward Clara : " Yes, George is 
 very shy. I have chaffed him about it often, 
 and told him how little justice he does himself; 
 but it is n't much use. Of course he is ready 
 enough with me, but when he goes into society 
 again, he is as shy as ever." 
 
 " Mr. Holyoke is a very agreeable man," said 
 Clara, inexpressively, and as if she knew that 
 Ann expected her to say something. 
 
 " Yes, very much so, if he feels at his ease," 
 said Ann, warmly ; " but if he does not, he is 
 silent and sometimes almost rude for want of 
 knowing what to say. He has almost too much 
 respect for women to show us the attention that 
 we expect." 
 
 Clara looked as if she were going to speak, 
 and speak more warmly this time, when, to 
 Ann's wrath and disgust, Caroline interrupted 
 her and said significantly, " Sometimes." The 
 remark shut Clara's mouth, and left Ann wonder- 
 ing if it were best to go on ; for she thought 
 that Caroline, who was not famed for delicate 
 tact, meant to rally Clara on George's attentions 
 to her. Ann had not long for her wonderment, 
 for Caroline added in an instant : " Sometimes
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 283 
 
 Mr. Holyoke can pay those little attentions." 
 Clara began to look angry, but Caroline kept 
 on : "as he did, for instance, to our village belle 
 in Stapleton a few weeks ago." 
 
 Clara's face flushed. " Nonsense !" said Ann, 
 in a tone meant to express contempt, but in 
 which anger had a larger part. 
 
 " It 's all very well to say ' Nonsense ! ' but per- 
 haps you don't know so much about it as I do." 
 
 " I am likely to know something about the 
 affairs of my own cousin," said Ann, trying to 
 recover her dignity. 
 
 " Yes, if any one else had told me that you did 
 not know about George Holyoke's escapade, I 
 should not have believed them ; but since you 
 say that you don't know, I suppose that I must tell 
 you. There is a very pretty girl, named Mary 
 Rogers, in the house where George Holyoke 
 boards at Stapleton, and he paid her some of 
 those little attentions you spoke about, flirted 
 outrageously with her, in fact." 
 
 " I don't believe that he was more than civil 
 to her," said Ann, feeling that the ground was 
 slipping from under her, and not daring to 
 look at Clara's face. " I am sure I hope he was 
 that." 
 
 " Did civility require that he should sing with
 
 284 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 her in the church choir ? " said Caroline, sarcas- 
 tically. 
 
 " So that is all ! " said Ann, trying to seem re- 
 lieved. " The head and forefront of my cousin's 
 offending is this, he sang in the choir once 
 when this girl was there, and once when she 
 was n't ; that is what you call outrageous flirt- 
 ing, is it ? It 's very evident that no one has 
 flirted outrageously with you, Carrie." 
 
 " You must keep a close watch on the ' young 
 girl ' to know when she is in the choir and when 
 she is n't," retorted Caroline. " I thought you 
 knew something about it ; but perhaps you did n't 
 know that he escorted her to a picnic, and wan- 
 dered about with her in the shade of the trees, 
 and into nice nooks where he thought no one 
 could see him." 
 
 " Caroline Anstey, are you not ashamed to re- 
 tail such miserable gossip ? " said Ann, now ap- 
 pearing really angry. " No one is safe from your 
 tongue. As to this story, I don't believe a word 
 of it," she went on, gulping down the protests 
 of her conscience with some difficulty. 
 
 " You don't believe it ! " said Caroline, in as- 
 sumed amazement. " Why, I supposed it was 
 on account of his actions that you came down 
 to Stapleton to rescue him from this girl."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 285 
 
 " I came to Cornlands on Wednesday, and the 
 picnic at Lake Marby was on Friday ; really, 
 Carrie, if you are going to slander my cousin, 
 you had better use a little more ingenuity in 
 piecing your stories together : it will improve 
 their effect." 
 
 Caroline was furious, and ceased to weigh her 
 words. " You have heard of the picnic at Lake 
 Marby, then ? I thought you knew something 
 about what your cousin was doing. But I sup- 
 pose it did not need that to bring you down 
 here ; you had heard enough before that to feel 
 you were needed. You must have enormous 
 influence," she went on volubly, " to make him 
 give up the girl he had made love to. And 
 I should think that he must be rather mean- 
 spirited to leave her quite so easily." 
 
 The sight of Caroline in a passion calmed 
 Ann, who saw clearly that her best chance lay 
 in seeming perfectly cool. 
 
 " I am not my cousin's keeper," she said 
 quietly ; " and while I hope that George and I 
 are very good friends, I do not pry into his 
 affairs or those of other people, generally. If 
 George had been smashed, as they say, on this 
 girl," she went on with a forced laugh, " I think 
 I should have heard about it ; in fact, I know I
 
 286 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 should, for George is fond of me, and confides in 
 me very often, and I give you my word that he 
 never has spoken of her to me." 
 
 "The world does you great injustice, then," 
 said Caroline, " for it certainly supposes that you 
 tried to save George Holyoke from a mesal- 
 liance by making him transfer his attentions to 
 some one else," she added, under her breath, so 
 that it was doubtful whether Clara heard her 
 or not. 
 
 Ann's face was almost white with passion, but 
 she had got the control of her tongue. " Your 
 world is a small one, Carrie, and one that I don't 
 care much about; it may say what it pleases 
 about me, so long as I know it does not speak 
 the truth. But come, this can hardly be very en- 
 tertaining to Clara ; let us change the subject." 
 
 "No, I don't think it is very entertaining," 
 said Clara, getting up and going to the window 
 without any apparent reason. The door opened, 
 and Hildegarde came into the room. 
 
 "Why, what is the matter, girls?" she said, 
 stopping in the doorway. " You look as if a 
 bomb-shell had gone off in the middle of the 
 room and blown you all apart. There is Ann, 
 who looks as if she had been laying down the 
 law to Caroline with so much emphasis that
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 287 
 
 Carrie thinks she has been too severe, while 
 poor Clara is feeling lonely over there in the 
 corner because no one will talk to her. Cheer 
 up, Clara ; it was n't fair to leave you out in the 
 cold." 
 
 " I must do my packing," said Caroline, and 
 left the room with rather an ill grace. 
 
 " You are a little too late, Hilda," said Ann. 
 " I wish you had come and stopped us ten 
 minutes ago ; you would have saved some 
 hair-pulling. Caroline Anstey is well, there, 
 I will not revile the absent ; and, as I can't stay 
 and hold my tongue, I will go. One does n't 
 like to hear one's friends abused, though." 
 
 " Please don't shut the door, Ann," said Hilde- 
 garde, laughing. " Leave it open a crack ; you 
 have made it very warm here. Clara, would you 
 prefer that I should go ? Speak, if you would 
 like to be left alone," she added, with more con- 
 cern in her voice, as Clara turned toward her. 
 
 " No, dear ; stay here and sit down," said 
 Clara listlessly, coming back from the window. 
 Clara sat down herself, and after a moment's 
 silence looked up and said with an effort to 
 seem cheerful : " You said the other day that 
 you would tell me about the Stapleton people, 
 the natives, I mean. You know that I have
 
 288 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 travelled in some foreign countries, and I have 
 tried to study the people there. Certainly I 
 ought to know as much about Americans, and 
 I really am interested in it," she added, as if 
 the last remark were meant to assure herself 
 that she was speaking the truth. 
 
 " I will tell you all that I know," said Hilde- 
 garde, promptly, who saw that something was 
 troubling Clara, and hoped to distract her mind. 
 " What is it especially ? " 
 
 "That girl," said Clara, "that we saw on our 
 long ride, and who gave us lunch, was she a 
 fair specimen of the women here, and was that 
 old man a fair specimen of the men ? " 
 
 " They belong to one of the oldest families 
 in this part of the country. You know that 
 they are Ann's relatives, and they are very good 
 people in every way. I never saw old Captain 
 Win slow before ; but Mary Rogers I believe to 
 be one of the best girls I know." 
 
 " You know her, then ? " said Clara. 
 
 " I wish I knew her better. You saw what 
 a beautiful face she has, and from the little that 
 I have seen of her in going about the village, I 
 am sure that she is good." 
 
 " It seems to me that you are very enthusi- 
 astic, Hilda."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 289 
 
 " Why should n't I be ? Yes, it is very seldom 
 that I feel tempted to make a real friend of one 
 who does n't belong to my ' station in life,' as 
 they call it; but seriously, when I see a girl 
 going about her duty at home, or teaching 
 school, as Mary Rogers does, when I never 
 saw her do anything ungentle, or speak any- 
 thing but good English, except for an occa- 
 sional 'guess,' I wish she belonged to my 
 station, that is all." 
 
 " She is rather pretty, certainly," said Clara, 
 coldly, " though not of a style that I especially 
 like; but I did not see any remarkable refine- 
 ment about her." 
 
 "Perhaps it was her beauty that first attracted 
 me," said Hildegarde, gently, to avoid a discus- 
 sion. "And as to her style, why, she is just my 
 height, and you know that I must defend the 
 tall and stately against the short and fascinating 
 beauties like yourself, Clara." 
 
 " Pooh, she is n't your style at all, Hilda !" and 
 Clara was silent again for a minute or two. Then 
 she said, "Read to me, won't you, Hilda dear? 
 I am tired, and want to be amused." 
 
 During this time Roger and George were 
 strolling up and down on the esplanade. Harry 
 Larkyns had allured Peter Anstey into a boating 
 19
 
 2QO SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 excursion in spite of Mrs. Standish's repeated 
 assurances that they would not come back in 
 time for Rainbow Head, so that George and 
 Roger were left alone. Neither of them said 
 much, and when they did speak, it was not much 
 to the purpose ; but they both were thinking 
 hard. George scarcely could restrain himself 
 to Roger's slow pace. Continually he checked 
 himself like a fiery horse, only to break away 
 again in an instant. His face was excited, as 
 that of a man who has made up his mind to a 
 great effort on which his happiness is staked, 
 eager for the conflict to end his suspense, while 
 alternate waves of hope and fear surge through 
 his mind. 
 
 Roger, on the other hand, walked slowly, his 
 head bent, as if in a brown study. Once or twice 
 he barely escaped throwing down some man or 
 woman passing along the esplanade ; then, after 
 a muttered apology, he went back to his thoughts 
 again. He had studied character often before, 
 it was one of his chief amusements, but never 
 before had he studied any one so intently as he 
 was studying a girl with light hair and a high 
 ruff, who sang to her little sick sister when she 
 thought no one was by, and whose face (it was her 
 face that he remembered then, and not how she
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 291 
 
 was dressed) had looked up to him the night be- 
 fore in the deserted pavilion of the camp-ground. 
 There was a certain amount of personal interest 
 in what he felt. He knew it, and did not find the 
 sensation unpleasant ; and the chief result of his 
 reflections was a determination, to which it did 
 not need a great deal of reflection to bring him, 
 that he must see more of this girl and know her 
 better, as a type of character he had not yet ob- 
 tained for his collection. But time was passing, 
 and the hour approaching when they were to 
 start for Rainbow Head ; so that after a few more 
 turns both George and Roger went back to the 
 hotel to get ready for the journey. 
 
 Roger's room was at the end of a long nar- 
 row corridor, on both sides of which the other 
 members of the party had their abodes. He 
 sauntered slowly down the corridor as he had 
 sauntered along the esplanade, his hands clasped 
 behind him, still thinking. The door of one of 
 the chambers was ajar, and as he came near it 
 he heard Hildegarde's voice clear and distinct. 
 She was speaking with animation. Perhaps he 
 did not listen, but he did not quicken his pace, 
 and he heard : " Yes, my dear, that is the true 
 secret of success. Never seem to be insincere, 
 and never be sincere. It hardly needs argument
 
 2Q2 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 to show that you never must be sincere ; but, 
 above all things, do not let a desire to be thought 
 deep ever make you give up your reputation for 
 openness. It may be humiliating to be told that 
 any one can see through you, but it is the sure 
 road to success. Oh, how many times I have 
 laughed in my sleeve at the folly of people who 
 were laughing at my simplicity. Those are my 
 sentiments, my dear." 
 
 " That is enough," Roger heard Clara say, in 
 a discontented tone. Then, more briskly, and as 
 if the words she had just spoken had wrought 
 too great an effect : " No, I did n't mean that, 
 but " He had reached his own door, and had 
 heard quite enough for himself.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 293 
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE various members of the party were 
 gathering in the parlor, waiting to start 
 for Rainbow Head. Harry and Peter Anstey 
 had come back in safety from their boating, so 
 that Mrs. Standish's mind was relieved some- 
 what, and now she was merely moving uneasily 
 about and wondering why one member of the 
 party after another could not be ready at the 
 appointed time. 
 
 Roger came up to Ann, who was standing by 
 the window. As Ann turned to meet him, she 
 thought that he looked nervous and excited, 
 though trying to cover his uneasiness by a man- 
 ner even more bantering than usual. She was 
 not in very good humor, but she had had time 
 to think, and to feel that she must appear as if 
 nothing had happened. 
 
 " Miss Brattle," said Roger, " I am come in a 
 spirit, I trust sufficiently contrite, to acknowledge 
 past errors and to crave forgiveness."
 
 294 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " I am glad that you are converted," said Ann, 
 trying to enter into his raillery ; " but how has it 
 happened. Has " 
 
 " I believe there was a time," said Roger, in- 
 terrupting her, " at which I dared to say that 
 men were possessed of stronger minds than 
 women ; that they had certain points of superior- 
 ity, and were nearly as clear-sighted. Well, I 
 give it all up ; I thought that I myself was not 
 altogether a fool, but I am mistaken." 
 
 "What next?" said Ann. "Who has con- 
 verted you ? " 
 
 " Within a few hours I have found out that 
 there is no such thing as the truth in women ; 
 of course you are a brilliant exception, Miss 
 Brattle, but you are the only one." 
 
 " Thank you," said Ann, parenthetically. 
 
 " I have been taken in so completely that I 
 despise myself, so that I can hardly believe 
 it is not a dream, and so that there is nothing 
 between me and drowning but a very strong 
 desire to get even with the deceiver; and if I 
 live, I will do that," he said rather bitterly. 
 
 " Really, this is a new phase of your character, 
 Mr. Urquhart, and a very interesting one," said 
 Ann. " The haughty man at last humbled." 
 
 " When I thought," went on Roger, " that at
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 295 
 
 last I had found sincerity, that a woman might 
 be shallow and bigoted, but that she was in 
 earnest, think of my feelings when I find her out, 
 and know that it is all a lie," he said, changing 
 suddenly from a tone of raillery into one of real 
 disgust. " At first I was weak enough not to 
 believe my ears ; but," changing to his former 
 tone, " that is past, as they say, and I am my- 
 self again. I came very near to not being my- 
 self for a short time, I assure you," he added. 
 
 " Shall I confess," said Ann, mischievously, 
 " that I thought the non ego rather an improve- 
 ment upon the ego ? " 
 
 " Thank you. Perhaps I ought to say that 
 I am not quite myself just yet. I am dazed, 
 and not ready for my revenge ; but I shall take 
 it shortly, and my hand has lost its cunning if 
 it is not a pretty severe one." 
 
 " I have n't the least idea what you are talking 
 about ; but be careful that you don't make a 
 mistake, and misjudge women again." 
 
 " No ; I have got to the bottom now," said 
 Roger, conclusively. " Here they are," he added, 
 as all the rest of the party, except Clara, came 
 into the room. 
 
 There were two wagons drawn up at the 
 hotel porch to receive them. Mrs. Standish,
 
 296 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 Caroline, Hildegarde, and Harry Larkyns took 
 the first ; George, Peter Anstey, and Ann the 
 second. R'oger stood outside, doubtful, and 
 waiting for Clara, who did not appear. 
 
 " Where can Clara be ? " said Mrs. Standish, 
 nervously. " Run, Hilda dear, and see if any- 
 thing is the matter." 
 
 Of course Roger offered his services ; of 
 course they were refused, and Hildegarde dis- 
 appeared into the hotel. She met Clara in the 
 hall, hurrying on, and apologizing for her tardi- 
 ness. They walked through the long hall, at 
 the end of which the wagons could be seen. 
 
 " Let me go in the first, Hilda," said Clara, 
 hurriedly and nervously. 
 
 " Certainly," said Hildegarde, somewhat sur- 
 prised. " I was in the first myself, but I don't 
 care." 
 
 " That 's a good girl," said Clara, quickly. 
 " You go before, and get into the last, if you 
 had as lief," and she almost pushed Hildegarde 
 through the door. Accordingly, Hildegarde 
 went out quietly toward the second wagon, was 
 helped in by Roger, bowed to him so pleasantly, 
 and received such a pleasant smile in return, 
 that Ann was encouraged, and believed that 
 whatever had provoked Roger, his friendship
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 297 
 
 with Hildegarde was unbroken. Clara got into 
 the first wagon without looking behind her, 
 and, as it was rather the larger, was followed by 
 Roger. 
 
 The drive to Rainbow Head was a long and 
 tedious one, sandy, under the full blaze of the 
 sun, and with nothing to see. Then, too, the 
 people did not seem well placed. In the first 
 wagon Roger was gloomy, rousing up now and 
 then to talk to Mrs. Standish or to Caroline in a 
 sharp, cynical way, which Mrs. Standish could 
 not understand, and which Caroline liked only 
 in part, as she had an uneasy feeling that some 
 of his satire was aimed at herself. In the sec- 
 ond wagon Ann had some thoughts of drawing 
 out the simple Peter to his own discomfiture ; 
 but the effort would be too great, and she gave 
 it up. George was struggling with might and 
 main to listen to what Hildegarde was saying ; 
 but, in spite of his courtesy, the task was too great, 
 and his eyes were straying uneasily toward the 
 wagon in front of them, where Harry and Clara 
 alone, of the whole party, seemed really to enjoy 
 themselves. She smiled, talked to him confi- 
 dentially, put the flowers in her belt which 
 he picked by the roadside, and did not turn 
 around once to see how her fellow-travellers
 
 298 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 came on, though Harry, who tried to give a tone 
 to the wilting atmosphere of the party, jeered at 
 the slowness of their horse, and carried on a 
 mock argument with Ann when they were go- 
 ing over the roughest part of the road. At last 
 they came up gently rising ground to a high 
 bluff with three faces to the sea. Near its edge 
 stood a light-house, and not far from the light- 
 house a row of tents, with a larger one in the 
 middle, and an American flag to take the place 
 of the ancestral banner of the Standishes. The 
 ground was covered with very coarse grass, and 
 sprinkled with occasional low bushes, the aspect 
 of the place utterly desolate. 
 
 " And this is Rainbow Head," said Ann to 
 Harry, as they were standing together. " You 
 give it a romantic name to make up for the 
 stern reality, I suppose. The 'Abomination of 
 Desolation ' would be more appropriate. I hope 
 you have laid in a very large assortment of clever 
 stories and witty sayings, and an inexhaustible 
 supply of good spirits. We shall need them all." 
 
 " But you have n't seen it yet," said Harry. 
 " Rainbow Head can defend itself. Come and 
 look." And at this moment, as if with one im- 
 pulse, the whole party walked past the light- 
 house to the edge of the bluff, the ground still
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 299 
 
 rising slightly, so that not till they had come to 
 the very brink did they seize the whole stretch 
 of the sea-view. 
 
 More than a hundred feet higher than the 
 water which swept around them, they seemed 
 almost to float above it. To their right, in a 
 great channel four or five miles broad and grad- 
 ually widening, the water stretched away as far 
 as they could see ; before them the channel had 
 emptied into a great gulf, whose distant shores 
 made a low gray line on the horizon, behind 
 which the sun was setting ; to their left was the 
 Atlantic ; at their feet, breaking away in preci- 
 pices, gullied out by the summer rains and win- 
 ter snows, and cut into by the rising tide, were 
 piled the masses of color that made the cliffs of 
 Rainbow Head. Red and yellow and pink and 
 white and black, in varying shades, sometimes 
 one above the other, sometimes side by side, but 
 never separated by a straight line, these clay 
 crags were piled from the dripping beach up to 
 the coarse grass on which they stood, unmixed 
 with sand or the meaner kinds of common clay. 
 " Don't you think that Rainbow Head can 
 defend itself ? " said Harry, after a short pause. 
 
 " Yes, certainly," said Ann, not turning her 
 head to answer.
 
 300 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 In a few moments they all went back to sup- 
 per in the large tent ; and when supper was 
 over it was evening and the moon had risen. 
 George tried to put himself next to Clara ; but 
 she eluded him, and on his proposing a walk, 
 she said that she was tired. 
 
 " It was rather a long drive here," said 
 George. 
 
 " Was it ? " said Clara, languidly. " I did not 
 notice it." Then, more briskly : " Mr. Larkyns 
 was very pleasant, and the road did not seem 
 long. Did you find it a bore?" 
 
 " It would be impossible to be bored while 
 talking with Miss Standish," said George, who 
 would not let his love for Clara make him rude ; 
 " but it seemed to me rather a long journey ; 
 and I am sorry that it has tired you," he added, 
 sympathetically. 
 
 "Oh, it's nothing," said Clara, shortly. Her 
 manner was so cold that George was discour- 
 aged, and tried to recollect in what he had 
 offended. 
 
 A moment after, Harry came in, speaking with 
 enthusiasm : " The moonlight view is superb. 
 What is the advantage of camping out, if you 
 do not see everything ? Why, the object of 
 living in a tent is that it is so disagreeable to
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 301 
 
 be in the tent that you have to live in the open 
 air. First-class Irish bull, that," he added, in an 
 audible aside. "Miss Ellison, my persuasions 
 would be in vain, I know ; but cannot the charms 
 of Rainbow Head by moonlight draw you out of 
 doors, or whatever stands for doors in a tent ? 
 ' There is something about the moon's ray,' you 
 know." 
 
 " Really you are very persuasive, Mr. Larkyns," 
 said Clara, looking up with a smile. " Is it very 
 fine?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly," said Harry. 
 
 " Then I think I will go," said Clara, energeti- 
 cally, for her fatigue seemed quite gone ; and 
 without a look at George, she went out of the 
 tent. 
 
 All hope of a conversation with her was over 
 for that night, and George was left to digest his 
 impatience as best he could until the next morn- 
 ing, which dawned bright and clear. His ner- 
 vousness would not let him sleep late, and as 
 he came out of the tent, where he had left Roger 
 slumbering peacefully, he saw the figure of a 
 woman outlined against the sky, standing on the 
 edge of the cliff. It was Clara ; and with a 
 beating heart he walked toward her, unnoticed, 
 for her back was turned to him. As he came
 
 302 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY 
 
 near, he spoke, and bade her good-morning. 
 She turned with surprise that did not seem 
 altogether pleasant, and George felt himself 
 flushing, and was ashamed of the awkwardness 
 that took hold of him. 
 
 " What a beautiful view ! " he said, looking out 
 on the sea, which seemed to have gained fresh- 
 ness from the morning, as the land does. It 
 was beautiful, but he only supposed so ; his eyes 
 did not take it in. 
 
 " Yes," said Clara, turning from him again ; 
 "very beautiful." 
 
 " Won't you come down the cliffs and look at 
 it from below ? They say that is the best view 
 and it will give us an appetite for breakfast," 
 he added, feeling that something must be said, 
 though he thought that he had hit upon hardly 
 the right thing, and knew that, so far as he was 
 concerned, the remark was not true. 
 
 " No, thank you, I think not," said Clara, 
 coldly. 
 
 There was a moment's pause, and then 
 George, driven to desperation, said quickly : 
 " W 7 hat have I done to offend you, Miss Elli- 
 son ? I cannot imagine ; and if you will tell me 
 what mistake I have made, I will try to correct 
 it. I would not have made it for the world,"
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 303 
 
 he added, with an earnestness that was too deep 
 for passion. 
 
 " I don't understand what you mean, Mr. 
 Holyoke," said Clara, very quietly, still looking 
 out to sea. 
 
 " But you must know what I mean," persisted 
 George. " I have offended you in some way, 
 and I wish I knew what it is that I have 
 done." 
 
 " You are mistaken, Mr. Holyoke. I am not 
 offended," said Clara in the same tone, and turn- 
 ing round part way toward him. " It is your 
 imagination," she added in a livelier manner. 
 
 " I wish it were," said George, feeling that the 
 ground was slipping away from beneath him, 
 knowing that he was not mistaken, but hardly 
 daring to press the matter further. 
 
 " There is nothing else," said Clara, shortly, 
 falling into the same dry tone she had used at first. 
 "I think breakfast must be ready by this time." 
 And she walked toward the camp, accompanied by 
 George, who felt that it was all over, that he had 
 lost the day through an unfair stratagem, without 
 having had a chance to strike for himself. 
 
 All through breakfast he was moody and 
 silent, thinking with might and main. Had he 
 offended Clara, or had he shown her such atten-
 
 304 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 tions that she was driven to these harsh meas- 
 ures, not because she did not like him as a friend, 
 but because she could not return the love which 
 she must see that he felt ? If it were the first, 
 he might remove the offence and win back his 
 old place ; if it were the last, he was hopeless, 
 and there was nothing for him to do but to put 
 a brave face on it until he reached Stapleton 
 again, and then give up the sight of Clara for- 
 ever. But which was it ? He did not pretend 
 that he could read a woman's character, and he 
 groped in vain for an explanation. The change 
 had been very sudden ; between night and morn- 
 ing the harm had been done. He remembered 
 how kindly she had left him that evening, and, 
 though he was awkward and knew it, he could 
 not imagine what he had done before the morn- 
 ing so completely to have lost the friendship she 
 had shown for him during the past fortnight. 
 That night, as they walked through the camp- 
 ground, he had not told her what was in his 
 heart, but he had spoken so that he had thought 
 she must see what was there ; and, as he went to 
 bed that night, he had rejoiced that she had not 
 rebuffed him, but had led him on until he was 
 no longer his old self. He forgot all his shyness 
 and false shame, and showed himself as he felt
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 305 
 
 that he ought to be, and as he hoped that he 
 might be if she would take his love for her own 
 and keep it, giving back something in exchange. 
 Now he thought that on that night she had 
 not seen where his hopes were leading him, but 
 that before the morning she had realized where 
 he stood, and knowing that these hopes were 
 vain, had determined never to give him en- 
 couragement again. Still, it might be that she 
 was only angry with him for the moment, and 
 that, if he should put to her the momentous 
 question, should plead his cause with the energy 
 that his cause would give him, her momentary 
 anger might vanish and he might succeed. 
 Breakfast was over. She had gone away with 
 Harry Larkyns ; and George, the suspense become 
 too great, turned to Ann, whom he respected very 
 much, thinking she must have noticed Clara's 
 strange behavior, and hoping that she could ex- 
 plain it. If there had been no sudden change, 
 he would have kept his own counsel until he 
 had won, or, if he had lost, forever ; but now he 
 hoped that a woman's wit might explain a wo- 
 man's vagaries. They were walking together at 
 a little distance from the camp, and he told her 
 the whole story ; for, if he gave his confidence 
 at all, he gave it wholly. Ann looked puzzled.
 
 306 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 "You say that she was perfectly friendly 
 night before last." 
 
 " Yes," said George ; " I had begun to hope. 
 Before that I did not dare to, for she is so much 
 better than I am that I could not believe she 
 cared for me." 
 
 "Nonsense!" said Ann, roughly. "You are 
 better than she is. You must excuse a cousin's 
 partiality," she said, more gently. 
 
 " You must have seen how she has treated 
 me since yesterday morning." Then, speaking 
 slowly, and as if he meant to put the worst before 
 himself: "I am afraid that she is trying to show 
 that there is no hope for me. You are my dear 
 cousin," he went on, looking affectionately at 
 Ann, "who has often given me advice, some- 
 times when I did not want it," he said, trying to 
 smile, " and I have come to see if you can 
 give me any hope. It is not fair to make her 
 say 'no' directly, if she has implied it." 
 
 Ann made no answer, but sat down on the 
 ground, George standing beside her. There 
 was a long pause; then she looked up. 
 
 "You had better know the whole," said she. 
 " Clara is not indifferent to you, I am sure of 
 that ; but she is jealous, and offended with you 
 and me. Yesterday morning that nasty, spiteful
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 307 
 
 Caroline Anstey dared to say that you had flirted 
 with that Stapleton girl, Mary Rogers ; and what 
 was as bad, or worse, she actually insinuated 
 that I had persuaded you to give her up, and 
 had induced you to make love to Clara Ellison 
 instead. Of course, I denied the whole ; but 
 some one had been giving Caroline certain par- 
 ticulars about the picnic at Lake Marby " (then, 
 suddenly recollecting that George did not know 
 of her own presence on that eventful afternoon), 
 "or some such place, where she said that you 
 wandered off through the woods with this girl." 
 
 When Ann began to speak, George's face 
 showed simple amazement ; but when she spoke 
 of Mary Rogers, he looked confused. 
 
 " It is true," he said slowly ; " and yet I love 
 Miss Ellison with all my heart. What am I 
 to do ? " 
 
 "You must go to Clara," said Ann, "and make 
 her give her reasons. If she refuses you on other 
 grounds, you will know it ; but I do not believe 
 she will. When she mentions this affair, you 
 ought to show surprise but that is no great 
 matter, your own heart will tell you how to pro- 
 test that you never cared for Miss Rogers; that, 
 on the whole, you particularly dislike her.- And 
 I am inclined to advise you to make a clean
 
 308 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 breast of it by telling Clara exactly what hap- 
 pened on that miserable picnic at least, if it is 
 possible," she said, laughing nervously. 
 
 " I cannot tell her that I dislike Miss Rogers," 
 said George, slowly, "for I respect Miss Rogers 
 very much, nor can I tell her what happened on 
 that afternoon at Lake Marby, for that is not 
 mine to tell ; but I love Clara Ellison, and I 
 think that I can show it to her." 
 
 "Go, then," said Ann; "and the sooner the 
 better." 
 
 George paused. " Had I better speak now ? " 
 he said doubtfully. " Ann, I do not think that 
 I am a conceited man, and I would not have her 
 marry me for what I am not ; but I had hoped 
 that as she came to know me better she might 
 find more in me than she saw at first. Perhaps 
 I was wrong, but " 
 
 Ann hesitated an instant. " No, you must 
 go on now," she said. " You must get this idea 
 of Mary Rogers out of her head ; you never can 
 do anything until that is gone. If you can make 
 Clara see that she is mistaken there, even if she 
 refuses you from some other reason, you may 
 win yet." 
 
 " Thank you, Ann," said George, warmly, after 
 a moment's silence. " You always do your best
 
 ^ SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 309 
 
 to help your poor cousin. I will go and learn 
 what is to become of me." 
 
 "Go, 'conquering and to conquer,'" said Ann, 
 mock-heroically. " She will try to avoid you, 
 but you can find her alone before long." 
 
 And Clara Ellison did avoid him. Hour after 
 hour on that long morning, which seemed to 
 George the longest he ever had gone through, 
 she was continually with Harry Larkyns or 
 Mrs. Standish or Caroline, or even with Roger, 
 whose attendance on Hildegarde was not quite 
 so constant, though it was as deferential as ever. 
 But at last, as they were climbing about on the 
 cliffs, cutting off small pieces of the brighter-col- 
 ored clays as souvenirs of the place, she became 
 separated from the rest of the party, and George, 
 coming suddenly up to her, stood before her so 
 as to cut off all chance of retreat. There was 
 something in his face as he stood there which 
 made Clara try to start the conversation upon 
 indifferent subjects ; and so she spoke to George 
 cheerfully, and with as much of her old friendly 
 manner as she could assume at a moment's 
 notice. 
 
 " See what a splendid specimen," she said, 
 holding up a piece of clear red clay. " Bah ! it 
 soils my gloves, though," she went on, with an
 
 310 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 impatient gesture, trying to shake off two or 
 three small bits of clay that stuck to her 
 ringers. 
 
 "Miss Ellison," said George, now that his 
 mouth was once opened, his words pouring out 
 like a spring flood, "I cannot wait any longer ; 
 I must speak. I love you, and I think you must 
 know it. You are too good for me, too good for 
 any man ; but if you would, take the love which, 
 unworthy as it is of you, is all that I can give, 
 I believe I know that it would make of me 
 a better man than you can believe, and one who 
 might in time grow to deserve some of that love 
 which I beg from you." 
 
 If he had stopped at the end of the first sen- 
 tence it would have been better for him ; as 
 it was, he had given Clara time to frame an 
 answer. 
 
 " Mr. Holyoke," she said, her voice growing 
 colder and steadier as she went on, " I do not 
 understand you ; this is very sudden, I am 
 very sorry that I have given you any encourage- 
 ment to hope." 
 
 " Did you think, then, that I needed any en- 
 couragement to love you ? Perhaps it ought to 
 have stopped there; but we are weak, and we 
 must hope."
 
 SIMPL Y A LO VE-STOR Y. 311 
 
 Clara looked almost touched. " It cannot be, 
 Mr. Holyoke," she said, more gently. " I am 
 sorry that we ever met." 
 
 " And why may it not be ? " said George, 
 whose courage was returning. " If you knew 
 how I love you, how happy I would try to 
 make you, how happy I should be with you, 
 how desolate my whole life must be without 
 you ! " 
 
 " I am very sorry to refuse you," said Clara, 
 quickly regaining command of her voice, " but 
 I feel that you will not suffer long. In time 
 some one else " 
 
 " Do not insult me," said George, meekly. 
 " Even you must know perfectly well how im- 
 possible that is. You did me no wrong in 
 making me love you, for you could not help it ; 
 but you do me wrong which you can help in 
 thinking me so fickle." 
 
 " I suppose it is natural to feel so at the 
 moment," said Clara, still very calmly ; " but 
 time, even a short time, makes a great deal of 
 difference. A great many people have thought 
 as you do, and have changed their minds. 
 Perhaps you have yourself." 
 
 " Miss Ellison," said George, now losing his 
 self-control, " it is not right to mock me. You
 
 312 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 cannot love me, and for that I cannot blame 
 you ; but you might believe that the man whose 
 heart is breaking for you is at least in love." 
 
 "But if that man's heart was breaking for 
 some one else a fortnight before ! " cried Clara, 
 her voice and manner changing so suddenly 
 that George stepped back almost frightened. 
 " How can I believe in the truth of a man 
 whose heart breaks so often and is mended so 
 easily?" 
 
 " I do not understand," said George, dazed by 
 the sudden outburst. 
 
 " A fortnight ago," went on Clara, " your 
 heart was breaking for another woman, at 
 least, I suppose you told her so ; I don't know 
 whether she was fool enough to believe you. 
 At any rate, you have dropped her, deserted 
 her against her will, for aught I know or care ; 
 and now you dare talk of broken hearts to me ! 
 Which is the most romantic place to carry on a 
 flirtation with a pretty girl, for I have been 
 told that I am pretty, Lake Marby, or Rain- 
 bow Head ? And how much constancy is a man 
 likely to have, whose cousin can frighten him 
 out of loving one woman into loving another in 
 the space of a fortnight ? " 
 
 " Miss Ellison," said George, " I never flirted
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 313 
 
 with any one at Lake Marby. It is you that I 
 love, and it is I that love you." 
 
 " And do you mean to tell me that that girl 
 was an ordinary acquaintance of yours ? Young 
 men of your station do not go to picnics with 
 such girls, except to flirt ; and if you were not 
 flirting, what were you doing there ? Was it 
 entirely about whaling that you talked to Miss 
 Rogers, or was it about the manufacture of 
 saleratus bread ? " 
 
 " Miss Rogers is my friend," said George, sim- 
 ply. " She is not, and never can be, anything 
 more. I cannot tell you what we talked about 
 on that afternoon, because it is not my secret ; 
 if it were, you should know it, and I think I may 
 promise that you shall know it some day. I can 
 only say that I love you." 
 
 " I am afraid that you can only say it," Clara 
 burst out again. "It is friendship that you call 
 it, is it ? It 's a good word with a bad meaning. 
 And do you seriously expect me to take what 
 you have just said as an explanation of what 
 happened at that picnic ? " 
 
 " I am very sorry," said George, slowly. " I 
 love you ; and from what I know of the thing 
 love is, I know that you have not for me even 
 as much love as I hoped for. More than that,
 
 314 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 you must dislike and despise me if you can 
 think of me the things you have said. They are 
 not true ; but I must be very much to blame if 
 they can even seem true." 
 
 " You have no right to tell me that I do not 
 speak the truth. How dare you ! " blazed out 
 Clara. " Let me go." 
 
 " Hear me once more : I love you ; and if I 
 have spoken harshly, I am very sorry. I beg 
 your pardon," said George, humbly. 
 
 " You do not love me ; you love that other 
 woman, if you love any one. But you were so 
 mean-spirited that your cousin made you give 
 her up." 
 
 " I have no hope now," said George, stepping 
 out of her path. " You do not love me." 
 
 She passed him quickly, and then turned 
 round to look back on him. 
 
 " Do you dare to say," she said, more slowly, 
 " that you never loved her ? I do not say that I 
 will believe you if you say yes ; but can you say 
 it upon your honor ? " 
 
 " I have not for Miss Mary Rogers one par- 
 ticle of love beyond that which I may have as a 
 friend for any woman." 
 
 " I did not suppose that you would confess 
 to loving her now," said Clara, almost sneer-
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 315 
 
 ingly ; " but can you say that you never loved 
 her?" 
 
 There was a moment's pause. " I say upon 
 my honor that I never loved her as I love you 
 now ; no, nor " 
 
 Clara broke in on him : " I don't care to hear 
 any more. You loved her ten times as- much, I 
 suppose ! " And, with something that sounded 
 like a sob, she dashed down upon the beach, 
 where Caroline and Roger were standing.
 
 3 1 6 SIMPL Y A LO VE-STOR Y. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 ONE day was like another at Wilson's Neck. 
 It was easier for Mary, easier ten times 
 over, to write her letter to Herman than it was 
 to wait. The letter once written, she knew 
 that she had tried to say what was right ; and 
 when that was done, her temper did not distress 
 her by framing a hundred better ways of saying 
 the same thing. But she must wait. As she 
 sat with her grandfather in the evening, when 
 there was nothing to do but to think, for the 
 old man was too weak to talk much, a strange 
 sense of contrast often came into her mind. Fifty 
 years separated their thoughts. She was his 
 granddaughter, but he hardly thought of that. 
 She cared for the wants of his body ; he knew 
 that they were cared for, and that was all. 
 From morning to night she did not enter his' 
 mind except for the likeness he saw in her to 
 his dead sister ; so that living she lived to him, 
 because she shared her existence with a girl
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 317 
 
 dead before her own mother was born ; and as 
 for Herman, Mary knew that her story would 
 not ripple the calm of the old man's life, any 
 more than you can break up the smooth surface 
 of a lake on an evening in winter when the 
 growing cold is slowly changing living water 
 into dead ice. And his sorrows could not be 
 more to her. Many a time she thought as she 
 sat there how a time would come when her love 
 for Herman must seem to those who should 
 stand about her as unreal as her grandfather's 
 love for a bright-eyed girl now seemed to her, 
 and then, soon after, on this earth her love for 
 him would be gone forever. 
 
 Once or twice the restless fit came upon her, 
 and in the twilight she paced up and down on 
 the top of the house. But she thought that this 
 was wrong, and sternly checked herself long 
 before bodily exhaustion had begun to relieve 
 her. For several days there was nothing to 
 expect, nothing to hope for, though over and 
 over again in her mind she had seen Herman 
 open and read that letter far more clearly than 
 she saw the spinet on which she was playing at 
 her grandfather's bidding. Then came a day or 
 two when she could not hope, she could only 
 imagine it possible that an answer might come.
 
 31 8 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 Then came the time of hope ; but he would 
 write to Stapleton, and no one could tell how 
 long a letter might be in reaching Wilson's 
 Neck. Captain Rogers most likely would keep 
 it in his pocket until chance brought him to the 
 old house again. And the letter might need 
 an answer ; everything might depend upon the 
 answer ; if he were repentant, as he ought to be, 
 he would need words from her far different from 
 those she had used before. She could pour out 
 her whole heart to him in one joyous burst, and 
 be happy as she never had been happy before. 
 And he might wait in Savannah just long enough 
 to receive an immediate answer. And as the 
 sun went down in the cloudless west to rise 
 again in the cloudless east day after day, she 
 felt that she was growing older with each sun, 
 and that she was changing from a girl into a 
 woman. 
 
 Sometimes her imagination would raise up 
 before her the scene when she should meet 
 Herman, and, becoming his own, should have 
 some one upon whom she could lean for the rest 
 of her life. Then she would tear the picture 
 to pieces for fear that it was a false prophecy, 
 and for fear that the fancied bliss would make 
 the disappointment harder to bear. But as the
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 319 
 
 days went by, fancies of all sorts took hold of 
 her more and more strongly, and more and more 
 vividly she saw pictures of her future and of 
 Herman's, sometimes cheering, but often sad, 
 so that her strong will could hardly control her 
 restlessness. At last, one day, as she came in 
 at the back door of the house, she heard her 
 father's voice, and rushed into the room where 
 he and her grandfather were sitting. 
 
 " Why, Mary, what 's the matter ? " said Cap- 
 tain Rogers's great gruff voice. " What are you 
 in such a hurry for ? " 
 
 She could hardly speak ; her first impulse was 
 to ask him for the letter. Then she checked her- 
 self with a great effort and tried to say calmly, 
 " How is mother ? " 
 
 " She 's pretty middlin', but you don't look 
 well, Mary; what 's the matter with you?" 
 
 " I am very well," she said, trying to keep her 
 lips from framing the question that filled her 
 heart. 
 
 " I 'm afraid not," said the Captain, doubtfully; 
 "you look as if you -was 'most beat out. Look 
 here ; I 'm going off to-morrow to Rainbow Head, 
 to take some things over to Mr. Standish's folks 
 that have made an excursion over there. You 
 used to like the water, Mary ; come with me.
 
 320 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 The boat 's got some sort of a cabin that I can 
 rig up for you." 
 
 " No, father, I can't go," she said shortly. 
 
 " Well, you must do as you please, I suppose," 
 said the easy-going Captain. " I thought it 
 would do you a world of good, that 's all. Oh, 
 here 's a letter that come for you a day or two 
 ago. I knew I should be over soon, so I did n't 
 send it ; " and he held out a letter addressed in 
 Herman's handwriting. 
 
 The time had come. Mary had strength 
 enough, though with a terrible struggle, to 
 keep silence, and not ask her father for the 
 letter ; but with it once in her hand she could 
 not put it in her pocket and leave it unread, 
 as she had done once before. Without trying 
 to find an excuse, she left the room. 
 
 " Well, what has come over the girl ? " said 
 Captain Rogers, partly to himself, and partly 
 to his old father-in-law. "She 's all flustered 
 like. Has she been so long, father ? " he went 
 on, turning to Captain Winslow. 
 
 " How ? " said the old man, with a confused 
 look. 
 
 "Has anything happened to Mary lately?" 
 bawled Captain Rogers, in a tone loud enough 
 for Mary to hear as she went into her room,
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 321 
 
 and which warned her that she must use more 
 self-control for the future. 
 
 "Not as I know on," said the old man, vaguely ; 
 " there 's nothing happened here this long time." 
 
 Mary was in her room now, and tore open the 
 envelope. She turned to the end of the letter, 
 but it was a confused mass of words which 
 swam before her eyes. She held the letter 
 away from herself for an instant, then began 
 it and read it steadily through: 
 
 DEAR MARY, Forgive me, Mary, for I need it. I 
 did not mean to do wrong to you, I meant to make 
 it all easy and right for you to do as you want to, and 
 I have said what I ought not ; it is so hard to say 
 exactly what I mean. You have been true to me, I 
 know that now, and you have kept your word. I 
 never can forgive my sister for daring to say that you 
 had not ; but I was a long way off, and I was afraid, 
 not because you were not good, but because you were 
 so much too good for me that I could not realize you 
 cared for me. Now I can think of you as I used to, 
 and I would rather know that you are what I believed 
 you were and never see you again, than be your hus- 
 band and know I was mistaken in you. But I must 
 not let you give yourself up to me. You would keep 
 your promise to me if I would let you, but you cannot 
 make' yourself love me as you did three years ago. I 
 have read your letter until I know it by heart ; and 
 when you say you cannot find anything for which you 
 21
 
 322 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 should blame yourself, you are right, but you cannot 
 say that you love me, because that would not be true. 
 I have thought it all over, and I know how much better 
 Mr. Holyoke is than I am. I can see how happy you 
 would be with him, if you had not promised me ; and 
 God help me ! I am not selfish enough to let your 
 promise stand in the way. You would give yourself 
 to me, I know ; you might even say that you love me, 
 for I do believe that you love me as you might love a 
 brother ; but, without knowing it, you have shown how 
 you feel to me in your last letter. If he can say that 
 he does not love you, and never did, then we will be 
 man and wife, for I never can think you loved any 
 man who did not love you. If not, you must be happy 
 with him, and, as he loves you, he will find out easily 
 that your word to me does not stand in the way any 
 longer. Do not think, Mary, that I write this to blame 
 you. Before your letter came, I was wretched, for I 
 thought every man or woman who spoke kindly to me 
 was trying to cheat me ; but now, though I cannot be 
 happy, I know that I shall be a million times better 
 man for having loved you, and I can look you in the 
 face again without being ashamed for me or for you. 
 
 HERMAN CROCKER. 
 
 P. S. I shall not leave Savannah for several days ; 
 then we shall come straight home. 
 
 There was a weight taken off Mary's heart 
 when she rose from reading the letter. All her 
 fancies, all her gloomy thoughts, were swept
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 323 
 
 away from her mind, now left as clear as it 
 had been a month before, and for one long 
 moment it was enough that Herman loved her 
 as he ought. But the next moment she had 
 taken another step. After what Herman had 
 done, no false modesty ought to hold her back 
 from doing her part. It could not be, when 
 both she and Herman loved each other so 
 truly, that a few words would fail to set all 
 right. Then she thought how firm Herman 
 was, how hard it was to make him change 
 his determination when once it was fixed. 
 She could read between the words of his 
 letter the pain it had cost him to frame them, 
 and what he had said he would not abandon 
 lightly. Then she thought of George. Never, 
 except for that one moment on the wharf, had 
 she believed that he really loved her. She had 
 told him a part of her secret, and, as she did 
 full justice to his chivalrous nature, she thought 
 he might be trusted with the rest ; and how 
 gladly would she meet Herman, when he came 
 home, with the news that Mr. Holyoke had 
 declared that she was nothing more to him 
 than a friend. 
 
 Was it possible that she should see him be- 
 fore Herman came back? It flashed through
 
 324 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 her mind that if Mrs. Standish had taken a 
 large party to Rainbow Head, Mr. Holyoke 
 must be of the number. If she should sail 
 over there with her father, as he had just 
 asked her to do, there would be nothing strange 
 in it except perhaps to the eyes of such a slan- 
 derer as Prudence. Besides, she did not greatly 
 care now whether she were acting strangely or 
 not. If she could convince Herman, all was 
 well ; and if not, she did not regard the opinion 
 of any one else. Once at Rainbow Head, she 
 would watch Mr. Holyoke, and probably could 
 find out whether she was right in thinking that 
 he was merely her friend. If so, she would seek 
 a chance to tell him what she wanted him to say, 
 and would come back joyful to Stapleton by the 
 time the " Hesperus " had come to port. 
 
 She ran quickly downstairs for fear that her 
 father might have gone. He was still in the 
 sitting-room, looking at his father-in-law and 
 imagining that he was entertaining him, though 
 he said but little, and it is doubtful whether 
 Captain Winslow greatly heeded even that little. 
 Mary came in behind her father and he did not 
 see her. 
 
 " Did you say that you were going to Rainbow 
 Head, father ? "
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 325 
 
 "Bless me, yes," said the Captain. "Why, 
 what a start you gave me, Mary! I thought 
 something was the matter." 
 
 " Well, if you will take me, and I can arrange 
 it, I will go with you, as you asked me." 
 
 " Oh, I can fix it. Those two young men 
 have gone over there with the Standishes and a 
 lot more, so your mother can come here. The 
 water will do you good ; I hate to see you look 
 worn out, Mary," he went on, his hoarse voice 
 not yielding itself readily to a sympathetic 
 expression. 
 
 The day after, Captain Rogers and Mary 
 made the voyage to Rainbow Head, and 
 reached there in safety toward the end of the 
 afternoon. 
 
 At dinner on that day, the one after their 
 arrival at the Head, the members of the 
 Standish party did not seem altogether harmo- 
 nious. It was true that Roger and Harry and 
 Hildegarde struggled to keep up the spirits of the 
 others, and that Peter, like the sun, shone with 
 strict impartiality on the just and on the unjust. 
 George was miserable, and made no effort to 
 conceal it; Clara had been in good spirits at 
 breakfast, now she complained of a headache, 
 and was silent. Ann looked on the world with
 
 326 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 an evil eye, and very nearly ruffled even Peter's 
 equanimity. Caroline seemed contented, but was 
 unusually quiet. George had to go through the 
 terrible ordeal of sitting face to face with Clara 
 when he knew that he must not look at her and 
 yet could not look anywhere else. He was brave 
 and proud, and, in spite of his distress, he sat 
 there so defended by his pride that no one knew 
 his secret except Ann and Caroline, nor could 
 Caroline have found it out if she had not been 
 a woman, and if Clara's face had not been far 
 more expressive than George's. 
 
 " Miss Ellison, if you are so miserable," said 
 Harry, " could you not seem a little more cheer- 
 ful ? When you are sad, all your dutiful sub- 
 jects are prostrated with grief." 
 
 "If my dutiful subjects will follow my whims, 
 I cannot help it, Mr. Larkyns," said Clara, 
 coldly. Then, with an effort seen by Ann, who 
 watched her as a cat does a mouse, she raised 
 her voice a little, and looking across the table, 
 said : " Is the view from the cliffs as fine, Mr. 
 Holyoke, as it was this mor " she stopped and 
 flushed "as it was last evening? I did not 
 notice it this morning, that is, not so much," she 
 hurried on, giving the explanation to the whole 
 table rather than to George.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 327 
 
 He saw that she was troubled, and, hard as 
 it was for him to speak in his natural voice, it 
 should be done if she wished it. That she had 
 been unfair to him in the morning he thought 
 of as his misfortune ; it did not occur to him that 
 it could be her fault. 
 
 " Yes, quite as fine ; the bright sun can't wash 
 away the color, you know," he said. 
 
 "And now, Miss Ellison," said Harry, " since 
 Mr. Holyoke has assured you that the view is 
 fine, will you not give me the pleasure of show- 
 ing it to you from the water ? There is a row- 
 boat which Roger has secured for the evening ; 
 I am sorry to say there is only one fit to row in, 
 but it is much finer by daylight than under the 
 baleful rays of the moon. Perhaps I said the 
 opposite yesterday ; but life is n't worth living if 
 you have to be consistent." 
 
 " I am sorry that I can't go," said Clara, so 
 shortly that even Harry did not press her with 
 any more questions ; and it was some minutes 
 before the conversation emerged from beneath 
 this wet blanket. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon, and George had 
 got away from the rest and was stretched on the 
 coarse grass, looking out mechanically at the 
 water. He knew the exact size and shape of a
 
 328 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 great black stain on the mainsail of a schooner 
 which was passing by ; he did not care any- 
 thing about it, but somehow that stain was the 
 only thing in the whole broad view which fitted 
 into what he was thinking of. So long as any 
 one was by him, especially so long as he was 
 with her, there was a certain excitement in put- 
 ting on a brave face and bearing himself like a 
 man ; now he could only wonder vaguely how 
 long this feeling would last, and wish that night 
 would come and go, so that he could find out 
 whether another day would ease him. He felt 
 that he had two selves, one of which was in love 
 with Clara Ellison, and was lying out on the 
 grass of Rainbow Head, suffering, and expecting 
 no relief. The other self (and he could not tell 
 which was the most real) had no place, and was 
 speculating calmly upon the time it would take 
 to dull the edge of his companion's suffering, 
 and wondering whether it were true that an- 
 other love would before long take the place of 
 the present one. On the whole, this second self 
 believed that time would be a complete cure : all 
 the world said so, and the world was probably 
 right ; it would be presumptuous to think other- 
 wise. He heard a voice behind him, and sprang 
 to his feet in one bound.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 329 
 
 " Mr. Holyoke," said Clara Ellison gently, as 
 she stood before him. 
 
 George could not speak, he could not hope, 
 his heart beat so quickly ; he could only bend 
 his head. 
 
 " Mr. Holyoke," she said again, and then hur- 
 ried on, " I have been thinking of what I said 
 to you this morning, and I think I owe you an 
 apology. I ought not to have spoken to you as 
 I did, and 1 am very sorry if I have hurt your 
 feelings. Indeed, I know that I must have hurt 
 them," she went on, speaking with less con- 
 straint, "and I hope we may be friends, may we 
 not ? " she said, putting out her hand toward him, 
 with one of her old smiles. 
 
 George grasped it, and she did not draw it 
 away as he spoke. If she had not smiled, per- 
 haps he could have kept his peace ; but now it 
 was impossible. 
 
 "And will you not be something more than 
 my friend, Clara ? If you feel that you were 
 unjust this morning, now you know how I love 
 you, can you not love me a little in return ? " 
 
 There was an instant's pause. Clara stood, 
 her hand in his, looking at the ground, and when 
 she raised her eyes, George saw in them what 
 brought his heart into his mouth with hope ; but
 
 330 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 before he could put his hope into a thought, her 
 face had changed, and she drew her hand away 
 from him, saying coldly: " No, I cannot love you, 
 Mr. Holyoke; I thought only that I owed you 
 an apology if I was too harsh this morning." 
 Then she turned on her heel and left him, and 
 George turned his back on her and faced the 
 water again. 
 
 There were two people coming up from the 
 beach toward him ; they were not far off ; he 
 saw that one was a woman, and he wondered 
 whether her dress were of cotton or woollen. 
 Then suddenly it came into his mind that these 
 two people were Mary Rogers and her father. 
 They were close upon him now. Mary came 
 forward, and said, putting out her hand with a 
 smile : " Good afternoon, Mr. Holyoke. I see 
 that you appreciate this view, and I hope you 
 will allow that it is far enough from home for 
 me to see something in it too." 
 
 George shook hands as if he were in a trance. 
 Why need she have come at this time ? He could 
 not help being irritated with her for a moment ; 
 then he tried to recover himself and speak as if 
 he were unconcerned. He could not succeed 
 altogether. If he had not tried to conceal any- 
 thing, Mary very likely would have guessed the
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 331 
 
 truth. As it was, she saw that he was troubled, 
 and not knowing why, gave to herself the wrong 
 reason. They walked together toward the camp, 
 Captain Rogers carrying up from the boat some 
 of the things he had brought for them from 
 Stapleton ; and when Hildegarde came to meet 
 them, George left Mary with a salute, courteous, 
 but very cold, and walked off alone to the cliffs. 
 After a few words, Mary refused Hildegarde's 
 invitation to come into the camp, and walked 
 back toward the boat with her father. 
 
 " I used to think that that Mr. Holyoke was 
 an uppish kind of fellow," said Captain Rogers. 
 " One time I 'd almost changed my mind and 
 come to like him, but he did n't treat you right 
 to-day, Mary, after all as he was so polite in 
 Stapleton. If it had been the other young man, 
 you 'cl ha' seen a difference." 
 
 The idea was a new one to Mary, and it 
 flashed through her mind with a sense of re- 
 lief. Could it be, she thought, that George 
 Holyoke was ashamed to talk with her before 
 his friends ? But the idea did not last a mo- 
 ment ; she knew him much too well to think 
 that. She was not wont to overrate her own 
 power of attracting men, but now it seemed to 
 her that Ann had been right that evening on
 
 332 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 Stapleton wharf, and that George's feeling for 
 her was very different from what she had sup- 
 posed ; and so it was with heavy discouragement 
 that she got into the skiff with her father and 
 went off to his boat. After their supper, when 
 the full moon had risen, as she was accustomed 
 to the oars from her childhood, she took the 
 small skiff and rowed round the foot of Rainbow 
 Head.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 333 
 
 XIX. 
 
 THE moon shone very temptingly over the 
 camp as well, when Roger and Hilde- 
 garde left it that evening to row. 
 
 " Don't be out too late, Hilda dear," said 
 Mrs. Standish comfortably, in the tone which 
 mothers use when they mean their bidding to 
 be taken in a very elastic sense. Hildegarde 
 took out her watch. " Oh, leave your watch 
 with me ; you may hurt it," Mrs. Standish 
 went on. It was a new one, and Hilda took 
 it off. 
 
 " You had better give me yours, Roger," said 
 Harry Larkyns. "You '11 wet it, or smash it in 
 pushing off the boat ; you can tell the time well 
 enough by the moon." 
 
 Now this watch was as the apple of Roger's eye, 
 a magnificent Frodsham of marvellous accuracy. 
 It is true that it never was right, because it never 
 was set. And it lost time with considerable 
 rapidity, but it lost it with remarkable regularity,
 
 334 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 which is the one thing needful in watches ; and 
 if Roger could wait to go through a long sum, 
 and made no mistake in the figuring, he could 
 tell the time of day by it quite well. He would 
 sooner throw the watch over the cliff than give 
 it to Harry ; but he hung it up in his tent, and, 
 laughing with Mrs. Standish when she asked 
 him if he could tell time by the moon, he led 
 Hildegarde over the cliffs down to the beach. 
 
 It was a weird descent. The light of the 
 moon was too little to make the cliffs brilliant 
 as they were by day, but here and there some 
 ridge shone white like the miniature of a snow- 
 ridge in the Alps, and the water flashed phos- 
 phorescent as it dashed against the boulders 
 strewn along the beach. Roger launched the 
 boat with difficulty, as the tide was out, and 
 rowed slowly away. At first they were almost 
 silent ; then he asked Hildegarde to sing, and 
 she sang one or two light pretty airs that 
 echoed back from the high cliffs, until Roger 
 rowed out into the Atlantic, not noticing how 
 the tide carried the boat along. 
 
 " Miss Standish," said he at last, " you were 
 right the other day when you said that you 
 looked forward with pleasure to your debut next 
 winter."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 335 
 
 " Was I ? I am very glad to hear it," said 
 Hildegarde, smiling. 
 
 " Yes ; you will be a great success, quite as 
 great as you think, however high you may have 
 fixed your standard." 
 
 " I am glad to have so favorable an opinion 
 from one who has seen so much of the world ; for 
 you have seen a great deal of it, have you not ? " 
 said Hildegarde, with another smile. "But how 
 do you know how high my standard is ? Per- 
 haps it is a very exalted one." 
 
 " Yes," said Roger. " I have seen something 
 of the world ; at least I think so, and I believe 
 that I am rather a good judge. It is not often 
 that I am taken in, and really I have a great re- 
 spect for any one who deceives me, perhaps 
 you can hardly realize how great. I am not given 
 to flattery ; or, if it is no use to say that, I am not 
 flattering you when I say that you will be one of 
 the greatest successes it may be my pleasure to 
 witness in the course of my life." 
 
 " Don't you think it is dangerous to give such 
 unstinted praise to one so young ? My head will 
 be turned by it, and I shall not justify what you 
 have said. You do not flatter well, Mr. Urqu- 
 hart ; it is too heavy to be graceful, and not 
 quite deep enough to be heartfelt."
 
 336 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " Age is measured by years, by appearance, 
 and by reality," said Roger, in the same senten- 
 tious tone. " You are young enough in years 
 and in appearance ; the reason why I am too 
 heavy and not deep enough for a flatterer is a 
 very good one. I am speaking the truth, and I 
 shall not turn your head, because it is too old in 
 reality not to be very steady." 
 
 "You ought to go about as a fortune-teller, 
 Mr. Urquhart," said Hildegarde, good-naturedly, 
 but in a tone that was meant to end the matter. 
 "What is that island just in front of us?" 
 
 Roger turned unwillingly. There was a low 
 flat piece of sand rising just above the water. 
 It had not even the scanty growth of thatch or 
 beach-grass which generally belongs to such 
 places, and looked as if it were given up to the 
 nests of gulls and tern. 
 
 " I don't know," he said shortly. 
 
 " Let us land and see what it is like," said 
 Hildegarde. Roger could do nothing but assent, 
 albeit ungraciously. They were within a few 
 lengths of the island, but as the tide ran fast, 
 Roger had to put forth his strength for two or 
 three minutes before the boat was beached. 
 Behind them, a third of a mile off, lay the main- 
 land, black and monotonous in the moonlight,
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 337 
 
 still more indistinct when a cloud, driven by 
 the rising wind, swept over the moon. Roger 
 and Hildegarde left the boat, and Roger pulled 
 the bow two or three feet upon the beach and 
 then turned to leave it. 
 
 " Is that high enough ? " said Hildegarde. 
 
 " Yes, quite," said he, again speaking shortly 
 and almost roughly. 
 
 Either because of this and to end the conver- 
 sation which Roger seemed so loath to give up, 
 or because of her cramped position in the boat, 
 Hildegarde sprang forward and ran quickly 
 thirty or forty yards, nearly to the farther end 
 of the island ; Roger followed more slowly, and 
 when he rejoined her, the moon flashing through 
 a cloud showed that he had recovered his good- 
 humor. For a few moments they stood at the 
 end of their domain, watching the tern scream- 
 ing and warily circling around them at a safe 
 distance. Then they followed the shore of the 
 island, so that a few minutes would bring them 
 again to the boat, though at the moment they 
 were not going toward it. Hildegarde was 
 nearest the water, and Roger walked beside her, 
 so that she could not start forward and leave 
 him as she had just done. They had gone but 
 two or three steps, when he began in the same 
 
 22
 
 338 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 tone he had used before, and as if he had been 
 merely interrupted by the bustle of the landing : 
 " Yes, you will be a great success, Miss Standish ; 
 but, old as you really are, you will be older 
 in time, and as a sincere well-wisher I mean 
 to warn you. One who assumes simplicity must 
 be always on her guard, and it is hardly safe, 
 even to one's most intimate friends, to boast 
 that one is an impostor." 
 
 " Mr. Urquhart, I am not quite so egotistical 
 as to take pleasure in talking only of myself; 
 suppose we change the subject." 
 
 " And there is one more thing," continued 
 Roger, without heeding her. " When one is in 
 the midst of such confidences it is best to speak 
 with the door shut. You would be deceiving me 
 now if you had attended to such very small 
 matters ; and as I hope you may take in others 
 more completely, I wish to warn you in time." 
 
 Hildegarde stopped, and faced him with a look 
 of bewilderment. He turned away with an un- 
 conscious air ; then, before she could speak, he 
 said in a low tone, " The boat is gone." 
 
 He stood still for an instant, and then ran 
 toward the spot where they had landed. The 
 boat was certainly gone ; and as he strained his 
 eyes to see where it had been carried, a great
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 339 
 
 mass of clouds swept over the moon and shut 
 out the view entirely. He glanced at the sky 
 to see whether it would soon clear again ; but the 
 wind, which had been rising fast and now was 
 blowing fresh, had filled the whole sky to wind- 
 ward with dark clouds, which in a few moments 
 would hide the stars that still shone near the 
 horizon to leeward. Roger was a man both 
 brave and cool, and he saw in that moment 
 what straits they were in. He walked back a 
 few steps, met Hildegarde coming toward him, 
 and spoke to her quietly and firmly : " The boat 
 is gone, Miss Standish, and I do not know how 
 we can get it again ; it has become so dark that 
 I can see nothing." 
 
 Hildegarde was silent for a moment. When 
 she spoke, it was at first in the same quiet voice 
 which he had used, changing into a sort of ex- 
 ultation as she went on. " Then I suppose we 
 must wait here all night, unless some of them 
 find us. Sometimes I feel as if old Miles Stan- 
 dish were a viking, and I were his daughter. 
 It will be magnificent to look at the storm from 
 here to-night." 
 
 " You see that there is a storm rising, then ? " 
 "Yes, certainly. I did not notice it until 
 now ; but it is surely coming."
 
 340 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 They walked forward a step or two, then 
 Roger spoke again, watching his companion as 
 closely as he could in the darkness, and straining 
 his ear to catch the tone of her answer, not so 
 much to encourage her if she wavered, as to see 
 how much she would bear. 
 
 " Miss Standish, this is not the time to con- 
 ceal anything. It was dead low tide when we 
 left the Head, and the tide will rise for five 
 hours more. The highest part of this island is 
 not two feet above the water." 
 
 Hildegarde stooped down to feel the sand ; 
 it was washed smooth, and beaten hard by the 
 waves. " May God be with us, Mr. Urquhart ! " 
 
 " I cannot swim a hundred yards," said Roger. 
 " Still, I will do my best to reach the land." 
 
 " You must not go," said Hildegarde, quietly. 
 " We must wait." 
 
 "There may be some one passing," said 
 Roger; and, still watching Hildegarde curiously, 
 he shouted with all his might. But the wind 
 tore his shout to shreds, and scattered it before 
 it had gone a fifth part of the way to the shore. 
 Hildegarde raised her voice, and the clear high 
 note seemed to pierce the wind ; but the land 
 was half a mile away, and after one call she 
 turned to Roger and said, " It is of no use ! "
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 341 
 
 They walked back to the middle of the island ; 
 but before they went, Roger silently stuck a 
 small piece of soaked driftwood into the sand 
 to mark the spot which the tide had reached 
 already. 
 
 " You must sit down," said Roger, speaking 
 close to her ear, that she might hear him when 
 he spoke in his natural voice. " You may have 
 to stand presently ; " and he took off his coat 
 for her to sit on. 
 
 " No ; you must not," said she, quickly, sitting 
 down. " I am not cold, and it is very comfort- 
 able and not very wet." 
 
 Though it was so dark that he could not see 
 the smile on her face, he could hear it in her 
 voice. He put on his coat and sat down beside 
 her. 
 
 " Miss Standish, I ought to beg your pardon 
 for having brought you here," he said, in a 
 moment. " You cannot forgive me any more 
 than I can forgive myself ; for if I had drawn 
 the boat up higher, as you asked, we should be 
 safe." 
 
 " There is nothing for me to forgive," said 
 Hildegarde ; "you did as you thought best. It 
 would be harder for me to forgive you for 
 thinking me so unreasonable as to blame you."
 
 342 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 There was a long pause. Roger knew that he 
 was in great peril of his life, and he cared for 
 his life quite as much as most men ; but he 
 thought very little about that. Was it possible 
 for this young girl, whose life was a sham and 
 a lie, to meet death so quietly ? Would she 
 act her simple part up to the very end ? And if 
 she were such an actress, how had she been so 
 foolish as to prate of her secret to Clara Ellison ? 
 He shut his eyes for a moment, and saw the 
 long hotel corridor, and heard Hildegarde's clear 
 voice and Clara's tone of disgust. Was there 
 nothing now that would break through the sur- 
 face and show her as she was ? Could he not 
 startle her into confessing ? She was half sit- 
 ting, half reclining on the sand, her back to 
 the wind, her face to the shore. He listened 
 closely for a sob now that the first excitement 
 was over and there was nothing to do but to 
 wait ; but he could hear nothing. At last, reck- 
 less whether it was right or not, and determined 
 to startle her, he bent forward and said distinctly, 
 " Miss Standish, are you afraid to die ? " 
 
 She did not start, and only raised her head so 
 that she would have looked him in the face if 
 there had been light enough to see. 
 
 " That is just what I was asking myself, Mr.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 343 
 
 Urquhart. I am very fond of life, so fond 
 that I scarcely ever wake up in the morning 
 without thinking how happy my life has been, 
 and is, and is likely to be. Of course I cannot 
 tell, but I think that even if I were poor and 
 blind, still I should feel the same ; and yet, I do 
 not want to boast, but I do not think I am 
 afraid." 
 
 " I do not think you are," said Roger, in a 
 changed voice. 
 
 There was a moment's pause before Hilde- 
 garde spoke again. "Perhaps I should be afraid 
 to die like this if every one else had died quietly 
 at home. But I was thinking just now how girls 
 as young as I am have died deaths that were 
 truly frightful, and have not flinched ; and I 
 have no right to be afraid. There is a little 
 hymn of Praed's that I always liked, but that 
 I never thought I should need : 
 
 ' Father, my sins are very great : 
 
 Thou readest them, whate'er they be ; 
 And penitence is all too late, 
 
 And unprepared I come to thee, 
 Uncleansed, unblessed, unshriven ; 
 
 But thou, in whose all-searching sight 
 No human thing is undefiled, 
 
 Thou who art merciful in might, 
 Father, thou wilt forgive thy child ; 
 
 Father, thou hast forgiven.' "
 
 344 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 There was another pause. Then Roger spoke. 
 " It is a strange question to ask now ; but what 
 did you mean by what you were saying yester- 
 day to Miss Ellison in your room at the hotel ? 
 I must know." 
 
 " I do not understand you," said Hildegarde ; 
 and the surprise sounded genuine. " What was 
 it that I said ? " 
 
 Roger repeated it as well as he could re- 
 member. Hildegarde paused a moment, then 
 laughed brightly. " Those were the sentiments 
 of a young lady in a book that I was reading to 
 Clara. I will show them to you I will show 
 them to you if I can," she said slowly, in a 
 changed voice. " And did you think that I 
 would speak such nonsense, and such wicked 
 nonsense, as that ? " 
 
 " I was a fool, a thousand times a fool," Roger 
 broke out passionately. " I did think it. If you 
 could see how I despise myself now for having 
 thought so, you would forgive me. I believe you 
 will forgive me as it is, for you never hate any 
 one ; but in the short time that is left me to live 
 I never can forgive myself. After I heard that 
 wicked nonsense I thought I hardly can bring 
 myself to say what I thought, but I must speak, 
 so that you may know everything that when
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 345 
 
 you spoke to me as you did at your home and 
 that night at the camp-meeting you were lying 
 to me ; that your life was one lie. I a miser- 
 able wretch who could not tell the simplest truth 
 from falsehood ! " 
 
 " I am very sorry for you," said Hildegarde, 
 gently. 
 
 " I thought you had deceived me," he went 
 on, a little more quietly ; " and it was to expose 
 you that I asked you to come with me this 
 evening ; and it was because I was angry with 
 you for not answering my insults, that I would 
 not draw up the boat as you asked me." 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself any more with it 
 now," said Hildegarde ; and she put out her 
 hand to him. 
 
 " I cannot take it," said Roger, vehemently, 
 turning away and rising to his feet. Hilde- 
 garde rose too, and, as he stood with his back 
 toward her, put her hand on his shoulder. He 
 turned round almost reluctantly. 
 
 " Mr. Urquhart, I do forgive you, for you have 
 done me wrong. Let us be friends now." 
 
 He took her hand as if he would raise it to 
 his lips ; then, as the thought flashed into his 
 mind, he knelt on the sand and bowed his head 
 over it.
 
 346 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " I believe," he said slowly, " that I would go 
 through all again to know what you are." 
 
 As he rose, Hildegarde sat down again on the 
 damp sand. He stood beside her a moment, 
 pausing, as if he meant to say something, then 
 turned away abruptly, and walked a dozen steps 
 to the edge of the water, stooped down and 
 looked at the piece of wood which he had stuck 
 into the beach, and which was now surrounded 
 by the tide. He hesitated a moment, as if he 
 were afraid of wetting his feet ; then, shaking 
 his head, with a curious smile stepped into the 
 water, took it up, and put it down again at the 
 water's edge. In a moment he came back to 
 Hildegarde. 
 
 " The tide is rising," he said, " but it seems 
 to me that it comes in very slowly. I will strike 
 a match, to look at the time." He put his hand 
 into his pocket to draw out his match-box, then 
 recollected that he had left his watch in his tent. 
 " It 's of no use," he went on, stooping down so 
 that Hildegarde could hear him ; " we cannot tell 
 whether the time is long or short." 
 
 He turned and faced toward the land, guided 
 by the frequent flashes from the great lighthouse 
 on Rainbow Head, which were all that he or 
 Hildegarde could now see except the dim outline
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 347 
 
 of each other's form. He had lost all hope of 
 help ; or rather he had no hope, for he did not 
 feel as if he had lost anything. It was worth 
 death to die with Hildegarde, and that no power 
 could take away from him. He had stood there 
 but a moment, when Hildegarde arose and stood 
 beside him. 
 
 " Mr. Urquhart," she said, in a voice too 
 gentle to contain the least complaint, "I can- 
 not sit still now ; let us walk up and down a 
 little." 
 
 He gave her his arm, and they walked from 
 one end to the other of the little island, careless 
 now if an occasional wave swept in over their 
 feet. Roger was silent, thinking hard whether 
 it were best to speak out what was in his 
 mind. 
 
 " Miss Standish," he began at last, " I must 
 tell you now what you have done for me. There 
 is very little chance that I ever can show to 
 men how great the change is, but I can at least 
 tell you." 
 
 " If I have done you any good, you make me 
 very happy, happier than I can tell." 
 
 " And there is another thing that I must say," 
 Roger went on. " If we were safe on shore, I 
 would go away and show the power that is in
 
 348 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 me ; then come back to your home, and, if you 
 were still there, ask you to be my wife ; now 
 I can ask nothing, not your love, for you can- 
 not love me as you have known me. I can only 
 tell you my love, and ask you not to answer 
 me at all." 
 
 He could feel Hildegarde's arm, which was 
 resting on his, give a sudden start ; but just then 
 wave after wave, driven by the increasing wind, 
 broke over the place where they were standing, 
 and they fled to the one small spot which was 
 above the water. They had not stood there an 
 instant, when, across the wake made by the 
 light, they saw a small boat with one person in 
 it pulling towards the shore. Roger tried to 
 shout, but stopped, knowing how much farther 
 Hildegarde's voice could reach than his own. 
 More than once she called before she was heard. 
 The boat was pulled around so as to face the 
 sea, and slowly the oarsman struggled to make 
 his way toward the island where they stood. 
 But the sea ran high against him, and the tide 
 cut him back. When the bright flash from the 
 lighthouse died away into the faint light that 
 shone between-whiles, they could see nothing ; 
 and when the fiery glare shot forth again, some- 
 times the boat had left the track, and must be
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 349 
 
 called back to it. Each time Hildegarde's voice 
 rang out clear, and it seemed to Roger that it 
 put new life into the oarsman. He needed it 
 sorely, for the struggle was long, though the 
 boat was not far off. The spray flew up in a 
 cloud when she struck the waves, and though 
 the oarsman drove his oars bravely into the 
 water, Roger thought that his strength seemed 
 almost gone. But the boat was small and buoy- 
 ant, and slowly, very slowly, it drew nearer. It 
 was not far off from the beach when Roger 
 saw that the person sitting in it was a woman. 
 At almost the same instant he rushed into the 
 water, and, seizing the bow, dragged it ashore. 
 Mary Rogers was in it, so exhausted that she 
 hardly could speak. She saw at a glance what 
 the situation was. 
 
 " The boat is too small to carry three people 
 in it when there is so much sea," she said feebly. 
 " I am too weak to row the boat ashore. Mr. 
 Urquhart, do you take Miss Standish, and I will 
 rest here until you send some one back." 
 
 " No, we cannot leave you here," said Hilde- 
 garde, firmly, " after you have saved us." 
 
 Roger looked eagerly at the boat, a little skiff 
 which Captain Rogers used as a tender for his 
 sail-boat. It was made to carry one person over
 
 350 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 smooth water, and it seemed perilous enough to 
 take two people in it over the waves to the 
 shore ; but he saw in an instant that to put 
 three people in it would be certain destruction. 
 As they stood there uncertain, the first wave 
 sent its advance guard, a thin film of water, 
 clean over the little island. 
 
 " There is no time to waste," said Mary, re- 
 covering a little from her exhaustion. "You 
 must start directly, Mr. Urquhart." 
 
 " Do you and Miss Rogers take the boat, " 
 said Roger to Hildegarde. " When you get to 
 shore you can send some one back to me. I 
 can take care of myself here." 
 
 "But I am no oarswoman, and couldn't pos- 
 sibly row to the shore," said Hildegarde, cheer- 
 fully. " You must go with Miss Rogers, and 
 the sooner the better ; for I don't wish to wait 
 here longer than I need." 
 
 " I cannot leave you here, with the tide rising," 
 said Roger, passionately. 
 
 "The tide rises but little here," said Mary, 
 still feebly. " It will be a wild place on this 
 sand-bank before any one can get back ; but if 
 you can face the waves, the water will not be 
 very high." 
 
 " You hear, Mr. Urquhart," said Hildegarde,
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 351 
 
 aloud. " I shall be safe." Then, speaking low 
 to Roger, so that Mary could not hear her, " I 
 know it is hard for you to leave me here, 
 harder a great deal than to stay yourself ; but 
 that is what you must do, Mr. Urquhart, and for 
 Miss Rogers's sake you must do it cheerfully. 
 Give my love to my father and mother and 
 Nelly, if I don't see them ; but 1 believe that 
 I shall. You hear what Miss Rogers says about 
 the tide, and I am strong, and can swim a little. 
 Now, go quickly," she said aloud. 
 
 Roger turned without a word, put Mary into 
 the skiff, and began to push off from the 
 island. 
 
 " I will call to you," said Hildegarde, " when 
 I think it is time for you to have come within 
 hail. Good-by," she cried, as the oars and waves 
 carried the boat away into the darkness. 
 
 The pull to the shore did not seem long even 
 to Roger, for tide and wind and sea were with 
 him, and before he expected it, the surf dashed 
 the boat in upon the beach. 
 
 " Miss Rogers," he said hastily, speaking in 
 a tone of command, and even in the darkness, 
 glancing out to sea as he spoke, " you must tell 
 them to get some boats and search for her ; 
 whoever finds her will build a bonfire on the
 
 352 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 Head to call the others back. I will find her 
 myself, but it is not right to run any risk." 
 
 He turned to the skiff, and tried to launch it 
 in the surf. In the dark, alone and unskilled 
 as he was, over and over again he was thrown 
 back on the beach, bruised, sometimes half 
 stunned ; and every fresh disaster brought so 
 much greater risk to Hildegarde. At last, by 
 dint of strength and good luck, he passed the 
 line of breakers, and pulled away from the shore. 
 The oars were short and would not take hold of 
 the water, the boat seemed to pound its life out 
 on each wave, and the tide cut him away from 
 the place he tried to reach ; but all this he 
 hardly thought about : it was the darkness that 
 discouraged him. Glancing back at the great 
 light on Rainbow Head, he tried to shape his 
 course so as to bring it to bear as it had done 
 from the little island ; but he could not tell how 
 far off it was, or even how it bore, except by 
 comparing its direction with that of the wind. 
 The splashing and pounding of the little skiff 
 so filled his ears, that he doubted if he could hear 
 Hildegarde's voice, though very near ; every 
 now .and then it seemed that the wind brought 
 it to him, and then again he felt sure that this 
 was a mere delusion. He lost reckoning of
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 353 
 
 time, he rowed on, that was all ; if he stopped, 
 he knew that he should despair, and he felt that 
 he should throw himself into the water. The 
 despair was shutting down upon him, and he 
 tugged wildly at the oars, now hardly listening 
 for the call that was to guide him, when at last 
 he thought he heard it. Yes, he would be 
 almost sure that he heard it, if so much were 
 not at stake. He changed his course slightly, 
 and pulled the harder. He was sure of it now ; 
 and, turning around, tried to hail back against 
 the wind, for he would end her suspense as soon 
 as might be ; then he pulled away again. Her 
 call sounded clearer, and again he called back. 
 This time he heard a voice he could recognize, 
 cry, " All 's well ! " and in a moment more 
 another call guided him to the spot where the 
 island had been, and where Hildegarde stood 
 fighting with the waves that now swept over it. 
 
 He dragged her into the boat and laid her in 
 the bottom of it, wrapping her in his coat, which 
 she did not refuse now. Then he turned to the 
 shore. The passage seemed longer this time, for 
 he felt that she needed food and fire ; but at last 
 a great wave landed them on the beach. He 
 sprang out and dragged the boat above reach 
 of the water, and then looked down at her. 
 23
 
 354 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " I must ask you to help me," she said, lan- 
 guidly, as she put out one hand toward him. 
 
 He bent down to her. "You are tired, and 
 I will carry you," he said, as he put his arms 
 under her and raised her in them. 
 
 " Thank you," she said gently ; and dropping 
 her head on his shoulder like a tired child, she 
 was carried up the cliff to the camp.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 355 
 
 XX. 
 
 THE wind did not go down that night ; on 
 the contrary, it blew harder and harder, 
 and by the morning a real storm was dashing 
 the waves against the foot of Rainbow Head, 
 and had made the little island a mass of white 
 breakers, which seemed near shore when one 
 looked at them from the top of the cliff. It was 
 raining at intervals, too much to permit the long 
 drive back to Grove Heights. One or two of 
 the tents had blown down, and the party had 
 taken refuge in the cottage belonging to the 
 lighthouse-keeper. 
 
 From the exposure and anxiety of the pre- 
 ceding evening Mrs. Standish seemed to have 
 suffered the most. Roger and Hildegarde had 
 recovered, though both were very quiet, and, as 
 Ann thought, tried to avoid each other. Mary, 
 who had come into the cottage for shelter, looked 
 as pretty as ever, and all the men except George 
 made a heroine of her. Roger was anxious to
 
 356 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 make up for any past neglect, and Harry and 
 Peter scarcely needed her gallantry of the night 
 before to make them attentive. George spoke 
 to her once, but she thought it was in a perfunc- 
 tory way, and that he took very good care she 
 should have no chance to speak to him alone. 
 He noticed curiously that Clara lavished on her 
 every attention she could devise, trying to antici- 
 pate her every wish, even to the neglecting of 
 Hildegarde. Yet it did not seem to him that 
 she was acting spontaneously ; he rather thought 
 it was a sense of duty that drove her on against 
 her own inclinations, for she did not try to talk 
 with Mary, but only to wait upon her. 
 
 Meantime, that which had been a strong wind 
 in the evening and a severe storm in the morning, 
 as the day went on, became a frightful gale. The 
 rain drove horizontally against the windows of 
 the house ; the house itself seemed to give way 
 a little to the fiercest blasts of the wind ; an 
 open wagon had been "blown over and smashed 
 to pieces in the stable-yard, and from the win- 
 dows on the leeward side of the house they could 
 see strong birds struggle with might and main to 
 fly against the wind, barely hold their own, and 
 after a few moments drop back exhausted to the 
 ground. In spite of this the gentlemen had
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 357 
 
 forced their way out to look at the surf, and, 
 coming back, had reported that it was running 
 very high and breaking off now and then from 
 the foot of the cliff a bit of clay, which colored 
 the foam. It began to grow dark early in the 
 afternoon, for it was very thick at sea. Mrs. 
 Standish was wondering how the entire party 
 would be able to pass the night in the cottage, 
 when Captain Rogers, who had secured his own 
 boat in a little creek which ran inland some 
 distance from the Head, came up to the house. 
 He walked quietly into the room, and, speaking 
 to George, told him that a vessel had just struck 
 a little way off the Head and soon would go to 
 pieces. 
 
 He spoke only to George, but every one heard 
 him. The ladies crowded round him, asking ques- 
 tions ; the men got themselves ready to go out 
 into the storm. Rude as the weather was, the 
 ladies too, none of whom had ever seen a wreck, 
 insisted on following them and looking at the 
 vessel. They wrapped themselves in shawls and 
 waterproofs, which now and then the gale tore 
 from their grasp, and were dragged to the edge 
 of the cliff. To stand there for more than an 
 instant was impossible ; but two clay crags, jut- 
 ting forth, had left a gully scooped out between
 
 358 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 them by the wash of the rain and by the melting 
 snow in spring. In the bottom of this gully, with 
 a white cliff before and a black cliff behind, they 
 were a little sheltered from the wind, while they 
 could see the wreck. 
 
 The vessel lay not very far from them ; whether 
 she had struck on a rock or a sand-bank they 
 could not tell. Evidently she had seen nothing 
 until it was too late ; and after she had struck 
 once, it was utterly impossible to get away from 
 the shore just under her lee. She was a brigan- 
 tine ; her foremast had been carried away by the 
 force of the blow, and with its mass of yards, stays, 
 and running rigging had toppled over the bow, 
 and was thrashing and beating the sea just inside 
 the vessel. As it fell, it had so strained her and 
 broken her open, that there needed no other leak 
 to fill her with water and change her in an instant 
 from a living vessel to a dead wreck. Some- 
 times a huge swell would lift her up like a play- 
 thing and dash her down again with immeasura- 
 ble force ; then a great curling wave would rise 
 above her and thunder down upon her deck. Her 
 boats were gone, and she was near enough for 
 them to see several men clinging to the main- 
 mast. Stout and strong as it was, the weakest 
 reed that grew had a better chance of holding
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 359 
 
 up its head. Every blow that struck the vessel 
 seemed as though it would snap the mast ; and if 
 it went, the men would be thrown out into the 
 sea to take their chances of being drowned by 
 the waves or dashed to pieces on the rocks that 
 strewed the shore and turned the water to foam. 
 It was a sight that you would go far to keep 
 from seeing, but from which, once seen, no power 
 could take your eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Standish and the rest were all huddled 
 together in the bottom of the gully, wet, and 
 crouching down to escape the wind as much as 
 possible. 
 
 " Are they going to do nothing for those 
 wretched men ? " said Clara to Harry Larky ns 
 with a shudder. " Can that mast stand long ? " 
 
 " A very little while, I am afraid," said Harry. 
 " They have tried to send off a rocket to them, 
 but she lies too far out, and the wind is too 
 strong." 
 
 Just then Captain Rogers came down from 
 the top of the cliff, with a look on his face that 
 his officers and men had seen it wear when a hard 
 storm was blowing its worst, a look very differ- 
 ent from the good-natured smile he showed at 
 home. He came up to George, and took him a 
 step apart, then spoke short and sharp : " That
 
 360 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 mast won't stay in that vessel another hour; 
 and when it goes, not more than one of those 
 eight men ever will see the land. Rockets 
 won't reach her. There 's nothing to do but to 
 try a boat, and there ain't enough of us to man 
 her. You gentlemen can pull an oar. Will you 
 help us?" 
 
 " Of course," said George. " We all will come." 
 
 " Mind, I don't say it ain't dangerous," Cap- 
 tain Rogers went on, as if he had been in- 
 terrupted. " There 's great danger. I don't want 
 none of you to go with your eyes shut. There 's 
 great danger to you, but it 's the only chance for 
 them," and he jerked his hand in the direction of 
 the vessel. 
 
 " It makes no difference to me," said George, 
 " and I don't think it will to the others." 
 
 They both turned again to the group. George 
 spoke to the three men, and they answered with- 
 out a moment's thought, Peter as well as the 
 rest ; for a man to be brave does not need to be 
 wise. Captain Rogers went up to Mary. 
 
 " I 'm afeared it 's the ' Hesperus,' Mary," he 
 said. 
 
 She gave a start, and grasped at the clay 
 ridge beside her for support. " Father ! " she 
 said, almost in a whisper ; then, recovering
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 361 
 
 herself, she looked full at him. " You say it is 
 the ' Hesperus ? ' " she said firmly. 
 
 " I 'm afearecl so," said the Captain. 
 
 George was standing near, and he heard the 
 last question and answer. As Captain Rogers 
 turned to go away, he took a step forward, and 
 stood beside Mary. 
 
 " The ' Hesperus' was the vessel " he began. 
 
 " In which he sailed; yes," said Mary, scarcely 
 able to speak. 
 
 " Do not be too much cast down, Miss 
 Rogers," said George, holding out his hand. 
 " We will bring him in to you." 
 
 " Thank you," said she, grasping the hand 
 and turning away her face. 
 
 The men were going now, and as they went 
 George came up to Clara ; but before he could 
 open his mouth she began, speaking quickly 
 with great excitement : " You are not going to 
 risk your lives to save those men, are you, Mr. 
 Holyoke ? Why should n't you be safe as well 
 as they ? You are of more importance in the 
 world." 
 
 " It is only danger for us ; it is almost sure 
 destruction for them," said George, gently. " You 
 would go if you were in my place. Good-by," 
 and he put out his hand.
 
 362 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " But you must not go," said Clara, still more 
 excited. " It is wicked to take such a risk, 
 and to make the others go too!" 
 
 " You could not prevent them from going any 
 more than you can prevent me," said George, 
 surprised at her vehemence. " Good-by." 
 
 She grasped his hand and held it tight. 
 " You shall not go ! " 
 
 " I must. Forgive me, but you are not think- 
 ing of what you are saying." 
 
 She paused an instant ; then said slowly, look- 
 ing down : " There are things I want to explain 
 to you. Will you go if I beg you to stay ? " 
 
 " Yes ; for you would be ashamed of me if I 
 did not," said George, firmly. 
 
 Clara turned to Mary, who was standing near. 
 " Has he any right to go, Miss Rogers ? Tell 
 him he ought to stay." The instant she had 
 spoken she realized of whom she had asked the 
 question, and glanced suspiciously from Mary to 
 George. 
 
 " You hardly can expect me to bid him stay 
 here," said Mary, calmly (for now she was mis- 
 tress of herself), "when the man I love 
 is on that vessel." 
 
 Clara started, but still clung to George's hand, 
 her breath coming short and her eyes flashing.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 363 
 
 " The man you love ! " she said slowly, as if 
 dazed, looking toward Mary. Then, turning 
 to George, she went on quickly: "Then you 
 never " She stopped short, and looked down. 
 After an instant she raised her eyes again. 
 " Go, go ! I was wrong," she said. " Go - 
 and come back again," she added, in a lower 
 tone. 
 
 George bent his head toward her. " I said 
 just now to her that I would bring him back, 
 and thought that so long as I did that I should 
 not care very much what became of me. Now 
 I will come back too." 
 
 He left her, and rushed to join the others. 
 A moment before, as Roger turned to go, his 
 eyes sought out Hildegarde, to whom he had 
 scarcely spoken that whole day. As he went up 
 the gully he must go close by her ; and as he 
 passed she spoke to him, and he stopped. 
 
 " Now you are showing the power that is in 
 you," she said, looking him full in the face. 
 
 " This this is nothing," said Roger, almost 
 with a laugh. " To row a boat to save a ship's 
 crew, there never was a time when I would 
 not have done this. No," he went on more 
 earnestly, " it is hard to go only because I may 
 die to-day, before I have done anything. If
 
 364 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 I die, you will know that, since yesterday, it is 
 not my fault." 
 
 He saw a look on her face that he never had 
 seen there before, and for the first time she 
 seemed to find it hard to speak. 
 
 " If you die, I shall remember what you have 
 done," she said at last. 
 
 " That is more than I dared to hope, and more 
 than I deserve," he said gravely. 
 
 The men were gone, and the women Ann, 
 Caroline, Clara, Hildegarde, Mary, and Mrs. Stan- 
 dish were left together. They could not see 
 the place where the boat was to be launched, 
 and it must be some considerable time before 
 it should come into sight around the point 
 that hid it, how long they could not tell ; 
 but there they stood, straining their eyes to 
 see it through the driving rain, all but 
 Mary, who looked steadfastly at the mast, 
 which seemed to bend under its human freight 
 as the sea struck blow after blow at its foot. 
 At last a huge wave dealt upon the side of 
 the vessel a stroke so heavy that the mast, 
 reeling like a drunken man, shook off into the 
 same wave one of the eight men who clung to it. 
 Mary gave a gasp, and started ; then she seized 
 Clara's hand. They saw the man no more. A
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 365 
 
 human head was a small thing to make out 
 among those great waves, and they were not 
 curious to discover whether that head sank 
 down forever or was broken to pieces on the 
 rocks ; the vessel was too far off for them to 
 know whether the man were Herman or not. 
 They looked once at each other ; and then, as 
 a cry from Caroline showed that the boat was 
 in sight, they turned away, one to the boat and 
 the other back again to the vessel. 
 
 The life-boat, long, and high both in the bow 
 and the stern, sat lightly on the top of the waves, 
 and they could not realize how much skill and 
 strength were needed to keep it upright. By 
 their dress and general air they could recognize 
 the four men at the oars, four natives rowing 
 also. Captain Rogers sat in the stern and 
 steered. Very, very slowly the boat advanced. 
 The crew were strong, and over smooth water 
 it would have needed but little time to row a 
 distance so short. Now, very often, in spite of 
 the stout men bending at the oars, there seemed 
 no gain at all ; and while the five women thought 
 that every great wave must throw the boat back 
 upon the rocks, the one woman could not believe 
 that the mast would bear another shock. But 
 the boat did gain. Foot by foot she crept up
 
 366 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 under the lee of the vessel, until the fall of the 
 mast would carry down her crew as well as the 
 men she came to save ; and now Mary and Clara 
 looked the same way. 
 
 As the vessel careened toward the shore, her 
 mast actually reached out over the boat, and 
 one of the seven men clinging there lowered 
 himself into her by a piece of the rigging. 
 Another followed ; but at first he did not find 
 the boat beneath him, and swayed to and fro 
 in the air until he came above her. A third, 
 coming after, misjudged the place where she 
 lay, and dropped into the water ; but as a wave 
 swept him past the stern, Captain Rogers seized 
 him and dragged him in. As he did so, how- 
 ever, his hand let go the tiller-rope for a mo- 
 ment, and the boat nearly fell away into the 
 trough of the sea. It was a little time before 
 she was headed again to the waves, and the 
 fourth man came down in safety. The fifth 
 had barely left the mast, when a horrible blow 
 given to the vessel wrenched the rope from 
 his hands, and he fell, never to reappear. The 
 next had almost reached the boat, when he let 
 the rope go too soon, and was in the water. 
 Holding their breath, Mary and Clara looked, 
 hoping to see him saved by the captain ; but
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 367 
 
 his head came up too far astern. He tried to 
 make a good fight with the sea, but in an in- 
 stant another wave beat him down, and it was 
 a long time before he rose again, much nearer 
 the rocks. His face was towards them, and 
 Clara could hear Mary say to herself, " It is 
 not he." Again a wave went over him, and 
 whether they saw him afterward or not they did 
 not know ; there seemed to be something which 
 struck a great boulder below them, but it may 
 have been a keg or piece of plank, they could 
 not tell. When they looked at the vessel again, 
 the last man had come down safely, and the boat 
 was turning away from the wreck. 
 
 So long as she was skimming over the crests 
 of the waves toward the shore, there was but 
 little danger ; but at the same instant it came 
 into the minds of the two women, now both 
 looking intently at the same boat, to get up 
 to the top of the Head and cross over the few 
 yards separating them from that part of the 
 cliff which looked down on the beach where 
 the boat must land. As fast as they could, 
 they scrambled to the top of the gully ; but 
 when they left the shelter of the protecting 
 crag, the wind nearly blew them down. Now, 
 however, it was a stronger passion than mere
 
 368 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 curiosity which made them face the storm. 
 Clara's shawl was torn from her shoulders 
 and flew off in the air ; but scrambling for- 
 ward, and wrestling with the wind as best 
 they could, it was a very little time before they 
 reached the spot, and, crouching down on the 
 ground, watched for the coming of the boat. 
 
 The high bluffs which made Rainbow Head 
 fell away suddenly at last, and it was on a 
 broad sloping beach, free from rocks, where 
 the surf broke in even line, that the boat must 
 land. From where they crouched they could 
 see it come around the Head and steer for the 
 beach. In one of the few moments of waiting, 
 while Clara was turning her eyes from those 
 awful rollers into which the boat soon must 
 plunge, to the great waves which now tossed 
 it about so lightly and so easily, she heard 
 Mary whisper shrilly to herself, " Three have 
 gone, but one was not he ; there are five 
 left." 
 
 She looked up at Mary ; Mary still held her 
 hand tightly, but was looking out into the storm, 
 not at the boat, her face working strangely, so 
 that Clara was frightened. 
 
 " Do not think of it like that," she said, in- 
 stinctively. " He will come in safe."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 369 
 
 Mary's face changed, and she turned quickly 
 to Clara : " God bless you for saying so ! " Then, 
 fixing her eyes on Clara as if she would read her 
 through, she said abruptly, "And he loves you, 
 Mr. Holyoke, I mean, does n't he ? " 
 
 Surprise at the question, as well as the awful 
 situation they were in, kept Clara from being 
 angry. " Yes," she said simply. 
 
 " And you love him, don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Clara, with even less hesitation. 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad ! " said Mary ; and with a 
 long sob of relief she buried her face in Clara's 
 dress, and cried as if her tears had been pent up 
 for weeks, and were flowing freely now because 
 there was no cause for them. 
 
 The boat had swept around the Head when 
 Mary raised her face again. The men were no 
 longer pulling hard ; Clara and Mary could see 
 that Captain Rogers was giving orders, and 
 that he was waiting for the favorable moment. 
 At last, as if with one impulse, the men sprang 
 at the oars, and the boat shot forward with in- 
 credible swiftness. For an instant it looked as 
 if she would sweep in on the crest and be carried 
 far up on the land ; but she was a second too 
 late, and the huge wave, catching her at just 
 the wrong moment, flung her over and over, so 
 24
 
 3/0 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 that not a man was left in her. Some of them 
 were thrown far up on the beach, and scrambled, 
 dripping, out of the surf; others, drawn back by 
 the undertow, yet had strength enough to tear 
 themselves clear when the next wave came in ; 
 it was all so confused that they could not reckon 
 how many were saved, or distinguish one man 
 from another. There was one seaman, however, 
 one of those who had belonged to the brigantine, 
 at whom they both were looking. He had lighted 
 a long way up the beach and was unhurt ; but 
 instead of rushing forward and avoiding the 
 next wave, as he might have done, he turned 
 about, and when it came in dashed back into 
 the surf. For a moment they could not see him 
 or guess the reason of his act ; but when the 
 wave went back they saw him struggling to 
 drag ashore another man, who seemed to have 
 been stunned in the upsetting of the boat. He 
 dragged him forward a few feet ; then another 
 wave rushed in and beat him down. When it 
 withdrew he made another effort, and dragged 
 his companion up to the higher part of the 
 beach ; then seizing him in his arms, he carried 
 the unconscious man out of reach of the surf. 
 
 Clara was straining her eyes to catch a sight 
 of George's figure among the groups of men;
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 371 
 
 she could make out Roger's tall form and the 
 broad shoulders of the Captain, and there was 
 a confused mass besides. She heard Mary cry, 
 "It is he!" and then they both plunged from 
 their high perch- down the steep bank to the 
 barren field where the men were standing:. 
 
 o 
 
 As the women rushed on, the group of men 
 opened for them to reach the spot where the 
 man whom Herman had saved lay on the coarse 
 beach-grass. It was George Holyoke. 
 
 Restraining herself, she did not know how, 
 Clara knelt beside him, opposite Harry Larkyns, 
 and looked at the white face turned up to her. 
 " Is he killed ? " she had hardly strength enough 
 to say. 
 
 " He is all right, Miss Ellison," said Harry, 
 gayly ; "only a little stunned: he will come to 
 in a moment. We are all safe except those 
 three poor fellows that you saw." 
 
 In the mean time Mary had gone straight up 
 to Herman, whose back was toward her, and had 
 spoken his name, "Herman!" He turned, 
 "Mary!" 
 
 They looked at each other for one moment ; 
 it seemed that each was waiting for the other to 
 speak. Herman broke the silence. 
 
 "And he?" he said, looking at Mary as if
 
 372 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 he would see through her, and read the answer 
 whether she spoke or not. 
 
 "That is he," said Mary, looking down at 
 George Holyoke, who was just opening his eyes. 
 Herman started ever so slightly. 
 
 " He is a brave man," he said ; " but " 
 
 Mary took a step back from the group and 
 Herman followed. 
 
 " Look at that girl," she said, with almost a 
 smile ; "and he loves her too." 
 
 And when Herman looked back again toward 
 Mary, all doubt was gone from his face forever.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 373 
 
 XXI. 
 
 r I ""HE wind had gone down, the sky was with- 
 
 -*- out a cloud, and Rainbow Head was as 
 green as its sparse vegetation would allow, when 
 the sun rose the next morning. There was no 
 trace of the storm but the thunder of the surf 
 at the foot of the cliff and the miserable remains 
 of the brigantine ; for something which once was 
 the shell of a man had been gently laid out of 
 sight by his mates. George and Herman were 
 standing together, looking out to sea. 
 
 " The old craft never will be in commission 
 again," said Herman, half as if he grieved at 
 the loss of an old friend, and half as if he were 
 ashamed to own it. 
 
 " Excuse me for asking the question ; but do 
 you lose much by her ? " said George. 
 
 " No, hardly anything. We'd shipped a good 
 deal of our oil, and she was well insured ; her 
 last voyage was a good one," he added, with
 
 374 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 a look of pride. " It does n't look much now 
 as it did yesterday, sir," he went on. 
 
 George paused a moment ; then the frankness 
 which fills a very happy man got possession of 
 him, and he spoke out of the fulness of his 
 heart. " We both of us had very strong rea- 
 sons for getting safe to shore yesterday, Captain 
 Crocker ; we had something more than our lives 
 to care about. I hope you will pardon me for 
 speaking of it, but I know that you are engaged 
 to be married to a noble woman, one who would 
 make any man happy." 
 
 Herman Crocker took George's hand. " I 
 hope I may be worthy of her, sir," he said, 
 looking George full in the face. " You don't 
 know how good she is." Then, after a pause, 
 " I have known more about you than that you 
 saved our lives yesterday, and that is enough." 
 
 " We will each thank the other for having 
 saved his life, and then let it be done for good 
 and all," said George, laughing. "If not, we 
 never shall get through our thanks." Then he 
 added, as his face became serious : " And we 
 none of us know how good a woman is. Here is 
 Miss Ellison," he said, looking proudly at Clara. 
 " She has promised to be my wife," he added, as 
 his frankness again conquered him.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 375 
 
 He took a step backwards to look at them 
 after she had come forward and stood beside 
 Herman, and he thought that she never had 
 been so pretty as when her dainty figure stood 
 beside the broad-shouldered, sunburnt whaler. 
 She glanced back with a smile at George, to 
 see if he had told their secret. " It was a ro- 
 mantic home-coming, for you to be shipwrecked 
 at the feet of your lady-love, was n't it,. Mr. 
 Crocker ; and then to save the man who had 
 helped save you, in the sight of your lass and 
 of his?" she said, her voice changing from 
 gayety to seriousness as she spoke, and looking 
 back again at George. 
 
 "It doesn't look much like last night," said 
 Herman, not knowing how to answer her. 
 
 "No; what a delightful change!" said Clara. 
 " There is the gully where we stood to watch the 
 vessel. It was horribly dark and wet then ; now 
 that white cliff dazzles me ; " and she put up her 
 hand to shade her eyes. 
 
 " I was happier last night in that gully than 
 I ever expect to be again when I am there," 
 said George, in a low tone to her. 
 
 " Were you ? Then we won't go there to-day, 
 for it would be humiliating to me." And she 
 smiled so brightly in George's face that he
 
 376 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 was almost ready to unsay what he had said. 
 Herman was in the way, and knew it ; besides, he 
 must get off to the wreck ; so he left them stand- 
 ing together. When he was out of hearing, 
 Clara turned to George, with a face that was 
 serious enough. 
 
 " Let us sit down here," she said ; " there is 
 something I want to say to you." They sat 
 down together on the edge of the cliff, but it 
 was a little while before she began to speak. 
 
 " Will you tell me now," she said, " how it was 
 between you and Mary Rogers ? I know you 
 love me now, at least I think I do," she went 
 on, looking up into his face and winning a look 
 from him that made her sure ; "but if you will 
 tell me, I think I shall be happier to know how 
 it was then." 
 
 George looked down at her ; he spoke slowly, 
 but without hesitation. " I will tell you the 
 whole truth from beginning to end, if you ask 
 me," he said. " It is for you to choose." 
 
 Although she had asked him a moment 
 before, there was a long pause now, and her 
 face changed several times, as if her choice were 
 wavering. At last she said, " Yes, I do ask it. 
 I can trust you." 
 
 " I have known you ever since I was a boy,
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 377 
 
 and there has not been a time when I have not 
 cared more for you than for any woman except 
 my mother. I do not think that I was in love 
 with you. I know I was not, for I am in love 
 with you now, and I know how different this is ; 
 but I think that I should have been, if you had 
 not been so bright, so far away from a clumsy 
 fellow like me, that I did not dare. When other 
 boys, and afterward when other men, spoke to 
 you as if it were natural to them, I envied them 
 bitterly ; I could not do it. It is the truth, that 
 I trembled in my mind and very often in my 
 body, for the matter of that when I spoke to any 
 young girl except my good Cousin Ann ; and with 
 you more than with any one else, because I was 
 the more afraid that I should be rude or uncouth. 
 But when I was abroad, and away from you, I 
 grew bolder, and I began to see that I loved you, 
 though it was not with a millionth part of what 
 I feel to-day. At the garden party Mrs. Stan- 
 dish gave, I determined to begin, and I thought 
 that I could overmaster my shyness. You re- 
 member how I behaved ; how clumsy and stupid 
 I was, and at last how rude. I left the place 
 disgusted with myself and everything else. I said 
 to myself that it was of no use for me to think 
 of you ; that you never could do anything but
 
 378 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 despise an idiot like me. If I really had loved 
 you with my whole heart then, of course I should 
 have felt differently ; but I suppose that I did not. 
 I came to Stapleton. Miss Rogers was pretty, 
 and our acquaintance began with an adventure. 
 I saw that she was good and clever, and I found 
 that I did not make a fool of myself before her. 
 I am speaking the whole truth, Clara, and there- 
 fore I say that I began to fancy I might fall in 
 love with her, when she told me her story. It 
 was not pleasant for me to hear ; it never is 
 pleasant for a man who is not married or en- 
 gaged to hear that a pretty girl whom he knows 
 well belongs to another man. The day after she 
 told me, I saw you, and found out that I was in 
 love with you, and almost shuddered to think 
 how near I had come to losing you by my own 
 fault. I never had much hope, but you were 
 so kind to me that I began to hope almost in 
 spite of myself. Then came the day of our drive 
 here, and you know the rest. You asked to 
 hear the story, and I have told you the whole, 
 because I thought you would forget it the more 
 easily, and forget that there ever was a time when 
 I did not love you more than all the world." 
 
 Clara heard, and knew that he withheld 
 nothing, though it may be that in her inmost
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 379 
 
 mind she thought that his present feelings had 
 colored his recollection of those which were 
 past. 
 
 " Thank you," she said, and she put her hand 
 on his shoulder. " Do you know, George, that 
 this is our first confidence ? I hope that all the 
 others will be as happy." 
 
 It was a little later on the same morning that 
 Roger met Hildegarde walking on the cliff, and 
 as he came toward her he thought she did not 
 meet him with quite the same open-eyed frank- 
 ness she was wont to have. He came straight 
 up to her, and then, as if he had framed his whole 
 sentence in his mind without leaving a word to 
 chance, he spoke constrainedly, and with an em- 
 barrassment which seemed to make a different 
 man of him. "Miss Standish, when we were on 
 the island I told you that if ever I was safe on 
 shore I would leave you, and prove how much 
 the being with you had changed me. I believed 
 then what I said. Now I find that first I must 
 ask if you will not go with me. If you send me 
 away, I will go as I promised, and do rriy best ; but 
 it will be a much better best if you will say yes." 
 She raised her face to his, and said simply, 
 " Yes." And as he looked into her face, he 
 thought he had never loved her before.
 
 380 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 It was as long a drive from Rainbow Head to 
 Grove Heights as it had been when the party 
 went over the road in the opposite direction, but 
 it seemed much shorter, to many of them at least. 
 There was a smile of pleasure and triumph on 
 the faces of Mrs. Standish and Ann, which showed 
 that they were too well satisfied to be bored even 
 by a hot drive ; Ann became charitable even with 
 Caroline and merciful to Peter. Both engage- 
 ments had been guessed by every one. Harry 
 declared himself downcast at the loss of two 
 pretty girls at once, and offered to take Ann 
 for fear he never should have a chance to do 
 better; but otherwise even he was cheerful. 
 
 It was in the cool of the evening, and both 
 gentlemen and ladies were passing out upon the 
 broad piazza of the Sea-Breeze House, when 
 Mrs. Standish looked inquisitively at a gentle- 
 man and lady sitting together as if they had 
 been lately made man and wife. He was a 
 good-looking fellow between twenty-five and 
 thirty, evidently born and bred a gentleman, 
 though the lines of his face were somewhat 
 heavy, and his clothes had not been made by a 
 fashionable tailor. His wife was some years 
 younger, fresh and rather pretty, dressed in too 
 great a variety of colors for good taste, with a
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-+TORY. 381 
 
 shrill voice which pierced to the remote corners 
 of the piazza.. George and Roger came out to- 
 gether behind Mrs. Standish, and the latter said 
 with a start : " Look there, George ; it 's John 
 Heston and the prairie belle. Now we shall be 
 able to decide which of us was right." 
 
 When the gentleman saw Mrs. Standish he 
 spoke a word in a low tone to his wife, who 
 bridled and tried to look languidly indifferent. 
 Then he rose and came forward. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Heston ? " said Mrs. 
 Standish, rather coldly. "' I did not know that 
 you were in this part of the country." 
 
 " Yes," said John Heston, confusedly. " Mrs. 
 Heston my wife never has come East be- 
 fore, and I wanted to show her the part of the 
 world that I came from. She had some friends 
 staying here, so we dropped down to this out-of- 
 the-way place." 
 
 " And that is Mrs. Heston," said Mrs. Stan- 
 dish, graciously. " I congratulate you on your 
 choice," she went on, picking that one little 
 complimentary phrase out of her large and well- 
 assorted store. " Will you present me ? " 
 
 " With great pleasure. I shall be delighted," 
 murmured Heston, his confusion showing that 
 he spoke the truth.
 
 382 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 The presentation was gone through, though it 
 was rather an ordeal for Heston ; he may have 
 been perfectly satisfied himself, but he knew 
 that Mrs. Standish's approval meant much. 
 As for that lady, perhaps she gauged Mrs. 
 Heston pretty accurately at first sight ; her 
 manners, however, showed nothing but the 
 most finished satisfaction, and she presented 
 her "young people," as she called them, to Mrs. 
 Heston as if the latter were an old acquaint- 
 ance. Meantime the young men surrounded 
 Heston himself. 
 
 Sometimes there is an awkward pause when 
 people who have no common interests, and who 
 are perfectly ignorant of each other's feelings, 
 are thrown together for the first time. There 
 was no such pause here. 
 
 " I declare I am quite jealous of you all," 
 Mrs. Heston began glibly, in a tone of voice 
 that made Mrs. Standish start, when she saw 
 five people turn around and look at her. " You 
 have all of you known Mr. Heston so much 
 longer than I. I must look out to see that he 
 does not run off with you." 
 
 " Poor man, I should think so!" said Ann to 
 Caroline, in the low tone that answers its pur- 
 pose so much better than a whisper.
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 383 
 
 Mrs. Standish's conversational currency did 
 not contain change for Mrs. Heston's remark. 
 
 " I assure you he did not look as if he wished 
 to run away when we came out on the piazza," 
 she said vaguely, trying to make her face express 
 something pleasant. 
 
 " Oh, well ; you know I don't want to have us 
 look like a couple on their honeymoon ; it 's 
 common, you know. I tell Mr. H. he must 
 make believe be rude to me sometimes, so that 
 people sha' n't find us out. I 'm afraid he finds 
 it rather hard, though," she went on, with an 
 arch simper. 
 
 " Don't be distressed, Mrs. Heston. Men 
 learn those things quite soon enough," said 
 Ann, sympathetically. 
 
 " Oh, to be sure they do, my dear Miss 
 Brattle. You see I have n't forgotten any one's 
 name, though there are so many of you. They 
 are deceitful wretches, as I used to tell Mr. 
 H. when he was courting me. I told him that 
 he was taking me in, though he protested 
 he was n't. At any rate, he succeeded, and here 
 I am," she said, with a happy look at her hus- 
 band, which seemed to break out on her face in 
 spite of herself.
 
 384 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 " I wish she was n't," said Caroline to Ann, 
 in a low tone. 
 
 " I am surprised at you, Carrie," Ann mur- 
 mured back. " Why, she is the most amusing 
 creature I have seen for a long time." Then, 
 aloud, " This is a pleasant place for you to begin 
 your Eastern trip with." 
 
 "Oh, isn't it too delightful? Really, Mrs. 
 Standish, there are so many people here that 
 I know. It seems quite like Mushroom City 
 over again. And I suppose you know a great 
 many more people here than I do," she went 
 on, throwing this out as a compliment. 
 
 " No, I have not met any one here until I 
 saw Mr. Heston," said Mrs. Standish, who 
 found it more than she could bear, to be classed 
 with the companions of the denizens of Mush- 
 room City. 
 
 " No ? " said Mrs. Heston. " And then the 
 houses are so lovely. There is one on Camellia 
 Avenue which belongs to Mr. Smithson, 
 green, with pink blinds and a yellow roof ; it 's 
 so original." 
 
 " No, it is n't," said Ann, under her breath. 
 " It is copied from the Noah's Ark I used to 
 play with when I was a child."
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 385 
 
 " Yes, very pretty," said Mrs. Standish, gulp- 
 ing down the lie more easily because no one 
 but Mrs. Heston could possibly suspect her of 
 meaning what she said. 
 
 " That is the favorite style in Mushroom 
 City, I suppose," said Ann, aloud. 
 
 " No, I am sorry to say that it is n't," said 
 Mrs. Heston, with a sigh ; "we have n't gone in 
 very much for beauty yet." 
 
 " You must find it very pleasant meeting 
 old friends here so far away from home, 1 ' said 
 Hildegarde. 
 
 " Yes, very pleasant. Of course there is John 
 always, but everything else looks so different 
 here in the East ; the people seem hardly the 
 same. I am very glad to have John meet some 
 of his old friends, though I try to make it seem 
 like home to him in Mushroom City." 
 
 " Mabel, we must be going," broke in John 
 Heston, coming out from the group of men who 
 surrounded him. " We promised to go to the 
 SmithsonsV 
 
 " Well, Mr. H., if you insist, I suppose I must 
 go. I promised to obey you, I believe." And 
 with another simper she took her husband's arm 
 and left the piazza. 
 
 " How about John Heston now ? " said Roger 
 25
 
 386 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 
 
 to George when the couple was out of hearing. 
 " Which of us was right ? " 
 
 "Confess that Heston's case is not like the 
 one you know you had in your mind," said 
 George, wheeling round on him. 
 
 " I confess," said Roger, after a moment's 
 pause ; " but that does n't prove your point." 
 
 "And what is sh.e like?" said Harry to the 
 ladies. " I know that you all are dying to 
 tell." 
 
 " I would n't have believed it possible," said 
 Mrs. Standish ; " she might have been queer and 
 gauche> but not like that." 
 
 " Nice natural manners she has," said Ann. 
 
 " How I pity poor John Heston ! " said Clara, 
 dolefully. 
 
 " I don't," said Hildegarde. " Because she is 
 affected, you think she has n't a heart ; the way 
 she spoke of her husband shows she has a warm 
 one." 
 
 " Do you really think all that about Mrs. 
 Heston ? " said Roger in a low voice to her. 
 
 " Why, yes ; don't you ? " said Hildegarde, 
 turning round and looking up at him. 
 
 "I suppose I do now," he said, with a smile. 
 " I certainly did not a moment ago." 
 
 " There is one thing you must promise me,
 
 SIMPLY A LOVE-STORY. 387 
 
 Roger," said Hildegarde as they drew back from 
 the others. 
 
 " And what is that ? " 
 
 " Never to call me Mrs. U. after we are mar- 
 ried," she said, laughing. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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