The lady of the Aroostook

UNIVERSITY of CALIFORNIA

ES
LIBRARY

3Saofui ftp William Dean f)oiurllc.

VENETIAN LIFE. New Holiday Edition. With so full-page
illustrations in color by Edmund H. Garrett.

In Riverside A Idini Series. 2 vols. i6mo.

- ITALIAN JOURNEYS. Holiday Edition. With Ulustrations by

JOSEPH PBNNELL.
THE SAME. izmo.
TUSCAN CITIES. Library Edition.

THEIR WEDD|ING°'jOURNEY. Holiday Edition. Illustrated.

THE SAME. Illustrated, 12010,

THE SAME. i8mo.
A CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE. Illustrated.

THE SAME. 18 mo.
SUBURBAN SKETCHES. Illustrated.
A FOREGONE CONCLUSION.
THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.
THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY.
THE MINISTER S CHARGE.
INDIAN SUMMER.
THE RISE OF SILAS LAPHAM-
•'A FEARFUL RESPONSIBILITY.
A MODERN INSTANCE.
A WOMAN'S REASON.
DR. BREEN'S PRACTICE.

A SEA CHANGE ; OR, LOVE'S STOWAWAY. A Lyricated Farce.
THE SLEEPING CAR, AND OTHER FARCES.
THREE VILLAGES.

- POEMS. New Revised Edition.

A COUNTERFEIT PRESENTMENT. A Comedy.

OUT OF THE QUESTION. A Comedy.

CHOICE AUTOBIOGRAPHIES. Edited, and with Critical and

Biographical Essays, by Mr. HOWELLS. 8 vols.
THE ELEVATOR: THE SLEEPING CAR: THE PARLOR CAR •

THE REGISTER: AN INDIAN GIVER, a Comedy: THE

SMOKING CAR, a Farce: BRIDE ROSES, a Scene: ROOM 45,

a Farce.

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
BOSTON AND NBW YORK

THE

LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK

BY

W. D. HOWELLS

MTTHOR OF " A FOREGONE CONCLUSION," " A CHANCE ACQUAINTAf

"VENETIAN LIFB," ETC.

BOSTON AND NEW YORK

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

&be fiitoetfibe prejtf Cambribge

111768

COPYRIGHT, 1879 AND 1007, BY W. D. HOWELLS

COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY JOHN MEAD HOWELLS AND MILDRED HOWELLS
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

.- . : :•*'

.'

• I .'. *'

/***. ...*

STfit JUbrrsitie $re*«

CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

2 0 & 5

\ V:1- \

THE LADY OF THE AEOOSTOOK

IN the best room of a farm-house on the skirts ol
a village in the hills of Northern Massachusetts,
there sat one morning in August three people who
were not strangers to the house, but who had ap-
parently assembled in the parlor as the place most
in, accord with an unaccustomed finery in their
dress. One was an elderly woman with a plain,
honest face, as kindly in expression as she could be
perfectly sure she felt, and no more ; she rocked
herself softly in the haircloth arm-chair, and ad-
dressed as father the old man who sat at one end
of the table between the windows, and drubbed
noiselessly upon it with his stubbed fingers, while
his lips, puckered to a whistle, emitted no sound.
His face had that distinctly fresh-shaven effect
which once a week is the advantage of shaving no
of tener : here and there, in the deeper wrinkles, a
frosty stubble had escaped the razor. He wore an
old-fashioned, low black satin stock, over the toj.
of which the linen of his unstarched collar con*
trived with difficulty to make itself seen ; his high-

oiowned, lead-colored straw hat lay on the tabli

1

2 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

before him. At the other end of the table sat a
young girl, who leaned upon it with one arm, prop-
ping her averted face on her hand. The window
was open beside her, and she was staring out upon
the door-yard, where the hens were burrowing for
coolness in the soft earth under the lilac bushes ,
from time to time she put her handkerchief to hef
eyes.

" I don't like this part of it, father," said the
elderly woman, — " Lyddy's seeming to feel about
it the way she does right at the last moment, as
you may say." The old man made a noise in hia
throat as if he might speak ; but he only un-
puckered his mouth, and stayed his fingers, while
the other continued : " I don't want her to go now,
no more than ever I did. I ain't one to think that
eatin' up everything on your plate keeps it from
wastin', and I never was ; and I say that even if
you couldn't get the money back, it would cost no
more to have her stay than to have her go."

" I don't suppose," said the old man, in a high,
husky treble, "but what I could get some of it
back from the captain ; may be all. He did n't
seern any ways graspin'. I don't want Lyddy
should feel, anj more than you do, Maria, that
we 'ie glad to have her go. But what I look at ta
this: as long as she has this idea — Well, it's
like this — I d' know as I can express it, either."
He relapsed into the comfort people find in giving
ip a difficult thing.

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 8

"Oh, I know ! " returned the woman. "1 un
derstand it 's an opportunity ; you might call it a
leadin', almost, that it would be flyin' in the face of
Providence to refuse. I presume her gifts were
given her for improvement, and it would be the
same as bury in' them in the grouch for her to stay
np here. But I do say that I warn Lyddy should
feel just so about goin', or not go at all. It ain't
like goin' among strangers, though, if it is in a
«trange land. They 're her father's own kin, and if
they 're any ways like him they 're warm-hearted
enough, if that 'a all you want. I guess they 'li
do what 's right by Lyddy wher she gets there
And i try to look at it this way : that long before
that maple by the gate is red she '11 be with her
father's own sister ; and I for one don't mean to let
it worry me." She made search for her handker-
chief, and wiped away the tears that fell down her
cheeks.

" Yes," returned the old man ; " and before the
leaves are on the ground we shall more 'n have got
our first letter from her. I declare for 't," he
wided, after a tremulous pause, " I was goin' to say
how Lyddy would enjoy readin' it to us ! I don't
keem to get it rightly into my head that she 's goin'
away."

" It ain't as if Lyddy was leavin' any life behind
her that 's over and above pleasant," resumed the
woman. "She's a good girl, and I ne.ver want to
we a more uncomplainiu' • but I know it 'B duller

i THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

fcnd duller here all the while for her, with us two
old folks, and no young company ; and I d' know a«
it 's been any better the two winters she 'a taught
in the Mill Village. That 's what reconciles me,
on Ljddy's account, as much as anything. I ain't
one to set much store on worldly ambition, and I
never was ; and I d' know as I care for Lyddy's acU
vancement, as you may call it. I believe that as
far forth as true happiness goes she 'd be as well off
here as there. But I don't say but what she would
be more satisfied in the end, and as long as you
can't have happiness, in this world, I say you'd
better have satisfaction. Is that Josiah Whitman's
hearse goin' past ? " she asked, rising from her
chair, and craning forward to bring her eyes on
a level with the window, while she suspended the
agitation of the palm-leaf fan which she had not
ceased to ply during her talk ; she remained a mo-
ment with the quiescent fan pressed against her
bosom, and then she stepped out of the door, and
down the walk to the gate. " Josiah ! " she called,
while the old man looked and listened at the win-
dow. " Who you be'n buryin' ? "

The man halted his heai-se, and answered briefly,
'* Mirandy Holcomb."

" Why, I thought the funeral wa' n't to be till to-
morrow I Well, I declare," said the woman, as she
centered the room and sat down again in her rock
mg-chair, " I did n't ask him whether it was Mr
lioodlow or Mr. Baldwin preached the sermon

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 6

I was BO put out hearin' it was Mirandy, yon might
•ay I forgot to ask him anything. Mirandy was
always a well woman till they moved down to the
Mill Village and began takin' the nands to board,
— so many of 'em. When I think of Lyddy'i
teachin' there another winter, — well, I could al-
most rejoice that she was goin' away. She ain't a
mite too strong as it is."

Here the woman paused, and the old man struck
in with his quaint treble while she fanned herself in
silence : " I do suppose the voyage is goin' to be
everything for her health. She '11 be from a month
to six weeks gettin' to Try-East, and that '11 be a
complete change of air, Mr. Goodlow says. And
she won't have a care on her mind the whole way
out. It '11 be a season of rest and quiet. I did wish,
just for the joke of the thing, as you may say, that
the ship had be'n goin' straight__to_JueQus, and
Lyddy could 'a' walked right in on 'em at breakfast,
some morning. I should liked it to be'n a surprise.
But there wa'n't any ship at Boston loadin' for
Venus, and they did n't much believe I 'd find one
U New York. So I just took up with the captain
of the Aroostook's offer. He says she can telegraph
to her folks at Venus as soon as she gets to Try-
East, and she 's welcome to stay on the ship till they
come for her. I didn't think of their havin' our
mod'n improvements out there; but he says they
nave telegraphs and railroads everywheres, the sam«
u we do ; and they 're real kind and polite when

5 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

you get used to 'era. The captain, he 's as nice a
man as I ever see. His wife 's be'u two or three
voyages with him in the Aroostook, and he '11 know
just how to have Lyddy's comfort looked after. He
showed me the state-room she 'a goin' to have. Well,
it ain 't over and above large, but it 's pretty as a
pink : all clean white paint, witli a solid mahogany
edge to the berth, and a mahogany-framed lookin'-
glass on one side, and little winders at the top, and
white lace curtains to the bed. He says he had it
fixed up for his wife, and he lets Lyddy have it all
for her own. She can set there and do her mend in'
when she don't feel like comin' into the cabin. The
cabin — well, I wish you could see that cabin, Maria I
The first mate is a fine-appearing man, too. Some
of the sailors looked pretty rough ; but I guess it
was as much their clothes as anything ; and I
d' know as Lyddy 'd have a great deal to do with
tltnm, any way." The old man's treble ceased, and
at the same moment the shrilling of a locust in one
of the door-yard maples died away ; both voices,
arid, nasal, and high, lapsed as one into a common
wlence.

The woman stirred impatiently in her chair, as if
both voices had been repeating something heard
many times before. They seemed to renew her dis-
lontent. " Yes, I know ; I know all that, father
But it ain't the mahogany I think of. It's the
thild's getlin' there safe and well."

u Well," said the old man, " I asked the captain

THE LADY OF THE ABOOSTOOK. 7

the seasickness, and he says she ain't nigh BO
Likely to be sick as she would on the steamer ; the
motion 's more regular, and she won't have the
imell of the machinery. That 's what he said.
And he said the seasickness would do her good, any
iray. I 'm sure I don't want her to be sick anj
more than you do, Maria." He added this like on«
who has been unjustly put upon his defense.

They now both remained silent, the woman rock
ing herself and fanning, and the old man holding
his fingers suspended from their drubbing upon the
table, and looking miserably from the woman in the
rocking-chair to the girl at the window, as if a strict
inquiry into the present situation might convict him
of it in spite of his innocence. The girl still sat
with her face turned from them, and still from time
to time she put her handkerchief to her eyes and
wiped away the tears. The locust in the maple l>e-
gan again, and shrilled inexorably. Suddenly the
girl leaped to her feet.

" There 's the stage ! " she cried, with a tumult
in her voice and manner, and a kind of choking
»ob. She showed, now that she stood upright, the
iiim and elegant shape which is the divine right of
American girlhood, clothed with the stylishness that
instinctive taste may evoke, even in a hill town,
from study of paper patterns, Harper's Bazar, and
the costume of summer boarders. Her dress waa
carried with spirit and effect.

* Lydia Blood ! " cried the other woman, spring-

6 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

ing responsively to her feet, also, and starting to
ward the girl, " don't you go a step without you fee.
just like it I Take off your things this minute and
stay, if you would ii't jus' as lives go. It 's hard
enDugh to have you go, child, without seemin' to
force you ! "

" Oh, aunt Maria," answered the girl, piteously,
*' it almost kills me to go ; but I'm doing it, not
you. I know how you 'd like to have me stay.
But don't say it again, or I could n't bear up; and
I 'ra going now, if I have to be carried."

The old man had risen with the others ; he was
shorter than either, and as he looked at them he
seemed half awed, half bewildered, by so much
drama. Yet it was comparatively very little. The
girl did not offer to cast herself upon her aunt'a
neck, and her aunt did not offer her an embrace
it was only their hearts that clung together as they
simply shook hands and kissed each other. Lydia
whirled away for her last look at herself in the
glass over the table, and her aunt tremulously
began to put to rights some slight disorder in the
girl's hat.

" Father," she said sharply, " are Lyddy's things
all ready there by the door, so 's not to keep Ezra
Perkins waitin' ? You know he always grumble*
K>. And then he gets you to the cars so 't you have
to wait half an hour before they start." She con-
iinued to pin and pull at details of Lydia's dress, to
which she descended from her hat. " It sets real
Juce on you, Lyddy. I guess you 11 think of th«

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 0

fame we had gettin' it made up, when you wear it
out there." Miss Maria Latham laughed nervously

With a harsh banging and rattling, a yellow
Concord coach drew up at the gate where Miss
Maria had stopped the hearse. The driver got
down, and without a word put Lydia's boxes and
bags into the boot, and left two or three light par
eels for her to take into the coach with her.

Miss Maria went down to the gate with her fa-
ther and niece. " Take the back seat, father ! " she
Baid, as the old man offered to take the middle
place. " Let them that come later have what 'a
left. You '11 be home to-night, father ; I '11 set up
for you. Good-by again, Lyddy." She did not
kiss the girl again, or touch her hand. Their de-
cent and sparing adieux had been made in the
house. As Miss Maria returned to the door, the
hens, cowering conscience-stricken under the lilacs,
sprang up at sight of her with a screech of guilty
alarm, and flew out over the fence.

" Well, I vow," soliloquized Miss Maria, " from
where she set Lyddy must have seen them pests
inder the lilacs the whole time, and never said a
tford." She pushed the loosened soil into place
with the side of her ample slipper, and then went
into the house, where she kindled a fire in the
titchen stove, and made herself a cup of Japan
tea : a variety of the herb which our country peo-
ple prefer, apparently because it affords the same
•timulus with none of the pleasure given by tha
Chinese leaf.

II

LFDIA and her grandfather reached Boston tA
(our o'clock, 'and the old man made a bargain, a* he
fancied, with an expressman to carry her baggage
across the city to the wharf at which the Aroostook
lay. The expressman civilly offered to take their
email parcels without charge, and deliver them with
the trunk and large bag ; but as he could not check
them all her grandfather judged it safest not to
part with them, and he and Lydia crowded into the
horse-car with their arms and hands full. The con-
ductor obliged him to give up the largest of these
burdens, and hung the old-fashioned oil-cloth sack
on the handle of the brake behind, where Mr.
Latham with keen anxiety, and Lydia with shame,
watched it as it swayed back and forth with the
motion of the car and threatened to break looso
from its hand-straps and dash its bloated bulk to
the ground. The old man called out to the con-
ductor to be sure and stop in Scollay's Square, and
the people, who had already stared uncomfortably
at Lydia's bundles, all smiled. Her grandfather
aras going to repeat his direction as the conductor
tiade no sign of having heard it, when his neighbor
•aid kindly, " The car always stops in Scollay'i
Square."

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 11

* Then why could n't he say so ? " retorted the
3ld man, in his high nasal key ; and now the people
laughed outright. He had the nervous restlessness
of age when out of its wonted place : he could not
remain quiet in the car, for counting and securing
his parcels ; when they reached Scollay's Square,
and were to change cars, he ran to the car they wera
to take, though there was abundant time, and sat
down breathless from his effort. He was eager then
that they should not be carried too far, and waa
constantly turning to look out of the window to as-
certain their whereabouts. His vigilance ended in
their getting aboard the East Boston ferry-boat in
the car, and hardly getting ashore before the boat
started. They now gathered up their burdens once
more, and walked toward the wharf they were seek-
ing, past those squalid streets which open upon the
docks. At the corners they entangled themselves
in knots of truck-teams and hucksters' wagons and
horse-cars ; once they brought the traffic of the
neighborhood to a stand-still by the thoroughness
of their inability and confusion. They wandered
down the wrong wharf amidst the slime cast up by
the fishing craft moored in the dock below, and
jnade their way over heaps of chains and cord-
age, and through the hand-carts pushed hither and
thither with their loads of fish, and so struggled
jack to the avenue which ran along the top of all
Ihe wharves. The water of the docks was of a
avid turbidity, which teemed with the gelatinoui

12 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

globes of the sun-fish ; and people w«re rowing
about there in pleasure-boats, and sailors on floata
were painting the hulls of the black ships. The
faces of the men they met were red and sunDurned
mostly, — not with the sunburn of the fields, but
of the sea ; these men lurched in their gait with
an uncouth heaviness, yet gave them way kindly
enough ; but certain dull-eyed, frowzy-headed wom-
en seemed to push purposely against her grandfa-
ther, and one of them swore at Lydia for taking up
all the sidewalk with her bundles. There were
guch dull eyes and slattern heads at the open win-
dows of the shabby houses ; and there were gaunt,
bold-faced young girls who strolled up and down
the pavements, bonnetless and hatless, and chatted
into the windows, and joked with other such girla
whom they met. Suddenly a wild outcry rose from
the swarming children up one of the intersecting
streets, where a woman was beating a small boy
9ver the head with a heavy stick : the boy fell howl-
ing and writhing to the ground, and the cruel blows
Btill rained upon him, till another woman darted
from an open door and caught the child up with
•>ne hanu, and with the other wrenched the stick
away and flung it into the street. No words passed,
and there was nothing to show whose child the vic-
tim was ; the first woman walked off, and while the
fcoy rubbed his head and arms, and screamed with
Jie pain, the other children, whose sports had been
icarcely interrupted, were shouting and laughing all
about him again.

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 18

" Grandfather," said Lydia faintly, " let n« go
down here, and rest a moment in the shade. I 'm
almost worn out." She pointed to the open and
quiet space at the side of the lofty granite ware-
house which they had reached.

*' Well, I guess I '11 set down a minute, too," said
her grandfather. " Lyddy," he added, as they re-
leased their aching arms from their bags and bun-
dles, end sank upon the broad threshold of a door
which seemed to have been shut ever since the
decay of the India trade, " I don't believe but what
it would have be'n about as cheap in the end to
come down in a hack. But I acted for what 1
thought was the best. I supposed we 'd be'n there
before now, and the idea of givin' a dollar for ridin'
about ten minutes did seem sinful. I ain't noways
afraid the ship will sail without you. Don't you
fret any. I don't seem to know rightly just where
I am, but after we' ve rested a spell I '11 leave you
here, and inquire round. It 's a real quiet place,
and I guess your things will be safe."

He took off his straw hat and fanned his face
with it, while Lydia leaned her head against the
door frame and closed her eyes. Presently she
heard the trampling of feet going by, but she did
not open her eyes till the feet paused in a hesitat-
ing way, and a voice asked her grandfather, in th«
firm, neat tone which she had heard summer board-
era from Boston use, " Is the young lady ill ? " She
row looked up, and blushed like fire to see two hand

14 THE LADY OP THE ABOORTOOK.

tome young men regarding her with frank compa*
lion.

" No," said her grandfather ; " a little beat out,
that 's all. We 've been trying to find Lucaa
Wharf, and we don't seem somehow just to hit
/ on it."

"This is Lucas Wharf," said the young raan.
He made an instinctive gesture of salutation toward
ins hat, with the hand in which he held a cigar ; he
put the cigar into his mouth as he turned from
them, and the smoke drifted fragrantly back ta
Lydia as he tramped steadily and strongly on down
the wharf, shoulder to shoulder with his companion.

" Well, I declare for 't, so it is," said her grand-
father, getting stiffly to his feet and retiring a few
paces to gain a view of the building at the baso
of which they had been sitting. " Why, I might
known it by this buildin' ! But where 's the Aroos-
took, if this is Lucas Wharf ? " He looked wist-
fully in the direction the young men had taken, but
they were already too far to call after.

" Grandfather," said the girl, u do I look pale ? "

" Well, you don't now," answered the old man,
limply. " You 've got a good color now."

" What right had he," she demanded, k* to speak
to you about me ? "

*4 1 d' know but what you did look rather pale
M you set there with your head leaned back. 1
4' know as I noticed much."

" Ho took us for two beggars, — two tramps 7

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 15

•he exclaimed, u sitting here with our bundles scat-
tered round us ! "

The old man did not respond to this conjecture;
it probably involved matters beyond his emotional
reach, though he might have understood them when
he was younger. He stood a moment with hi*
mouth puckered to a whistle, but made no sound,
and retired a step or two farther from the building
and looked up at it again. Then he went toward
the dock and looked down into its turbid waters,
and returned again with a face of hopeless perplex-
ity. " This is Lucas Wharf, and no mistake," he
said. " I know the place first-rate, now. But what
I can't make out is, What 's got the Aroostook ? "

A man turned the corner of the warehouse from
the street above, and came briskly down towards
them, with his hat off, and rubbing his head and
face with a circular application of a red silk hand-
kerchief. He was dressed in a suit of blue flannel,
rery neat and shapely, and across his ample waist-
coat stretched a gold watch chain ; in his left hand
he carried a white Panama hat. He was short And
•tout ; his round florid face was full of a sort ot
prompt kindness ; his small blue eyes twinkled un-
der shaggy brows whose sandy color had not yet
taken the grizzled tone of his close-clipped hair and
beard. From his clean wristbands his hands came
•ut, plump and large • stiff, wiry hairs stood up on
their backs, and under these various designs iu tat-
tooing showed their purple.

16 THE LADY OF THE AKOOSTOOK.

India's grandfather stepped out to mi-,et and
halt this stranger, as he drew near, glancing quickly
from the girl to the old man, and then at their bun-
dles. " Can you tell me where a ship named the
Aroostook is, that was layin' at this wharf — Lucal
Wharf — a fortnight ago, and better ? "

" Well, I gueas I can, Mr. Latham," answers 1
the stranger, with a quizzical smile, offering one of
his stout hands to Lydia's grandfather. " You
don't seem to remember your friends very well, do
you?"

The old man gave a kind of crow expressive of an
otherwise unutterable relief and comfort. " Well,
if it ain't Captain Jenness 1 I be'n so turned
about, I declare for 't, I don't believe I'd ever
known you if you had n't spoke up. Lyddy," he
cried with a child-like joy, " this is Captain Jen-
Pesal"

Captain Jenness having put on his hat changed
Mr. Latham's hand into his left, while he stretched
his great right hand across it and took Lydia's long,
•htn fingers in its grasp, and looked keenly into her
face. "Glad to see you, glad to see you, Misa
Blood. (You see I 've got your name down on my
papers.) Hope you 're well. Ever been a sea-
voyage before ? Little homesick, eh ? " he asked,
as she put her handkerchief to her eyes. He kept
pressing Lydia's hand in the friendliest way. " Well,
that 's natural. And you 're excited ; that 'a natu-
ral, too. But we 're not going to have any ho;no

THE LAD* OF THE AROOSTOOK. 17

lickness on the Aroostook, because we 're going to 1
make her home to you." At this speech all the
girl's gathering forlornness broke in a sob. " That 'a
right ! " said Captain Jenness, " Bless you, I '~ve
got a girl just about your age up at Deer Isle, my-
gelf I " He dropped her hand, and put his arm
Across her shoulders. " Good land, I know what
girls are, I hope! These your things ? " He caught
up the greater part of them into his capacious hands,
and started off down the wharf, talking back at
Lydia and her grandfather, as they followed him
with the light parcels he had left them. " I hauled
away from the wharf as soon as I 'd stowed my
cargo, and I 'm at anchor out there in the stream
now, waiting till I can finish up a few matters of
business with the agents and get my passengers on
board. When you get used to the strangeness," he
Baid to Lydia, " you won't be a bit lonesome.
Bless your heart ! My wife 's been with me many a
voyage, and the last time I was out to Messina 1
had both my daughters."

At the end of the wharf, Captain Jen ness
Btopped, and suddenly calling out, " Here 1 " began,
as she thought, to hurl Lydia's things into the water.
But when she reached the same point, she found
they had all been caught, and deposited in a neat
pile in a boat which lay below, where two sailors
•tood waiting the captain's further orders. He
keenly measured the distance to the boat with his
teye, and then he bade the men work round outaid«
i

18 THE LADY OF THE ABOOSTOOK.

ft schooner which lay near ; and jumping on board
this vessel, he helped Lydia and her grandfather
down, and easily transferred them to the small boat.
The men bent to their oars, and pulled swiftly out
toward a ship that lay at anchor a little way off. A
light breeze crept along the water, which was here
blue and clear, and the grateful coolness and pleas-
ant motion brought light into the girl's cheeks and
eyos. Without knowing it she smiled. " That 'a
right ! " cried Captain Jenness, who had applauded
her sob in the same terms. " You 'II like it, first-
rate. Look at that ship ! That '« the Aroostook.
1* she a beauty, or ain't sho? "

The stately vessel stood high from the water, for
Captain Jenness's cargo was light, and he was go-
ing out chiefly for a return freight. Sharp jibs and
staysails cut their white outlines keenly against the
afternoon blue of the summer heaven ; the topsaila
and courses dripped, half-furled, from the yards
stretching across the yellow masts that sprang so
far aloft ; the hull glistened black with new paint.
When Lydia mounted to the deck she found it aa
clean scrubbed as her aunt's kitchen lioor. Her
glance of admiration was not lost upon Captain
Jenness. " Yes, Miss Blood," said he, " one differ-
ence between an American ship and any other sort
is dirt. I wish I could take you aboard an Rnglish
vessel, so you could appreciate the Aroostook. But
I guess you don't need it," he added, with a proud
satisfaction in his laugh. " The Aroostook ain't ia

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 19

order yet ; wait till we 've been a few days at sea."
The captain swept the deck with a loving eye. It
was spacious and handsome, with a stretch of some
forty or fifty feet between the house at the stern
and the forecastle, which rose considerably higher;
a low bulwark was surmounted by a heavy rail sup-
ported upon turned posts painted white. Every-
thing, in spite of the captain's boastful detraction,
was in perfect trim, at least to landfolk's eyes.
" Now come into the cabin," said the captain. He
gave Lydia's traps, as he called them, in charge of
a boy, while he led the way below, by a narrow
stairway, warning Lydia and her grandfather to
look out for their heads as they followed. " There I "
he said, when they had safely arrived, inviting their
inspection of the place with a general glance of hi*
own.

" What did I tell you, Lyddy ? " asked her grand-
father, with simple joy in the splendors about them.
" Solid mahogany trimmin's everywhere." There
was also a great deal of milk-white paint, with
iome modest touches of gilding here and there.
The cabin was pleasantly lit by the long low win-
dows which its roof rose just high enough to lift
above the deck, and the fresh air entered with the
ilanting sun. Made fast to the floor was a heavy
iable, over which hung from the ceiling a swinging
»helf. Around the little saloon ran lockers cuso-
Vme4 with red plush. At either end were four ot
five narrow doors, which gave into as many tinj

20 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

itate-rooms. The boy came with Lydia's things,
and set them inside one of these doors ; and when
he came out again the captain pushed it open, and
called them in. " Here ! " said he. " Here 's where
my girls made themselves at home the last voyage*
and I expect you '11 find it pretty comfortable.
They say you don't feel the motion so much, — 1
don't know anything about the motion, — and in
smooth weather you can have that window open
sometimes, and change the air. It 's light and it 'a
large. Well, I had it fitted up for my wife ; but
she 's got kind of on now, you know, and she don't
feel much like going any more ; and so I always give
it to my nicest passenger." This was an unmistak-
able compliment, and Lydia blushed to the captain's
entire content. "That 's a rug she hooked," he con-
tinued, touching with his toe the carpet, rich in its
artless domestic dyea as some Persian fabric, that
lay before the berth. " These gimcracks belong to
rny girls ; they left 'em." He pointed to varioua
glighrt structures of card-board worked with crewel,
which were tacked to the walls. " Pretty snug,
eh?"

" Yes," said Lydia, "it 's nicer than I thought it
oould be, even after what grandfather said."

" Well, that 's right ! " exclaimed the captain.
' I like your way of speaking up. I wish you could
fcnow my girls. How old are you now ? "
> " I 'm nineteen," said Lydia.

'* Why, you 're just between my girls !" cried the

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 21

captain " Sally is twenty-one, and Persis is eight-
een. Well, now, Miss Blood," he said, as they re-
turned to the cabin, " you can't begin to make your-
self at home too soon for me. I used to sail to
Cadiz and Malaga a good deal ; and when I went
bo aee any of them Spaniards he 'd say, * This house
is yours.' Well, that 's what I say : This ship is
yours as long as you stay in her. And I mean it,
and that 's more than they did ! " Captain Jenness
laughed mightily, took some of Lydia's fingers in
his left hand and squeezed them, and clapped her
grandfather on the shoulder with his right. Then
he slipped his hand down the old man's bony arm
to the elbow, and held it, while he dropped his head
towards Lydia, and said, "We shall be glad to
have him stay to supper, and as much longer as he
likes, heh ? "

" Oh, no I " said Lydia ; " grandfather must go
back on the six o'clock train. My aunt expects
him." Her voice fell, and her face suddenly
clouded.

" Good ! " cried the captain. Then he pulled out
his watch, and held it as far away as the chain
would stretch, frowning at it with his head aslant.
" Well ! " he burst out. " He has n't got any too
much time on his hands." The old man gave a
nervous start, and the girl trembled. " Hold on !
Ves ; there's time. It's only fifteen minutes after
five."

" Oh, but we were more than half an hour get

?2 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

tang down here," said Lydia, anxiously " And
grandfather does n't know the way back. He '11 be
sure to get lost. I wish we 'd come in a carriage.'

" Could n't 'a' kept the carriage waitin' on ex-
pense, Lyddy," retorted her grandfather. " But I
'jell you," he added, with something like resolution,
**if I could find a carriage anywheres near that
wharf, I 'd take it, just as sure ! I would n't miss
that train for more 'n half a dollar. It would cost
more than that at a hotel to-night, let alone how
your aunt Maria 'd feel."

" Why, look here ! " said Captain Jenness, natu-
rally appealing to the girl. " Let me get your
grandfather back. I've got to go up town again,
any way, for some last things, with an express
wagon, and we can ride right to the depot in that.
Which depot is it ? "

" Fitchburg," said the old man eagerly.

" That 's right I " commented the captain. " Get
you there in plenty of time, if we don't lose any
now. And I '11 tell you what, my little girl," he
added, turning to Lydia : " if it '11 be a comfort to
you to ride up with us, and see your grandfather
off, why come along ! My girls went with me the
last time on an express wagon."

"No," answered Lydia. "I want to. Bufc it
would n't be any comfort. I thought that out be-
fore I left home, and I 'm going to say good-by to
grandfather here."

" First-rate I " said Captain Jenness, bustling

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 23

towards the gangway so as to leave them alone. A
sharp cry from the old man arrested him.

" Lyddy ! Where 's your trunks ? "

" Why ! " said the girl, catching her breath in
dismay, M where can they be ? I forgot all about
them."

" I got the checks fast enough," said the old man,
** and I shan't give 'em up without I get the trunks.
Thsy 'd ought to had 'em down here long ago ; and
now if I 've got to pester round after 'em I 'm sur«
to miss the train."

" What shall we do? " asked Lydia.

" Let 's see your checks," said the captain, with
an evident ease of mind that reassured her. When
her grandfather had brought them with difficulty
from the pocket visited last in the order of his
Bearch, and laid them in the captain's waiting palm,
the latter endeavored to get them in focus. " What
does it say on 'em ? " he asked, handing them to
Lydia. " My eyes never did amount to anything
on shore." She read aloud the name of the express
stamped on them. The captain gathered them
back into his hand, and slipped them into his
pooket, with a nod and wink full of comfort. " I '11
»«'e to it," he said. " At any rate, this ship ain't
a-going to sail without them, if she waits a week.
Now, then, Mr. Latham! "

The old man, who waited, when not directly ad-
Iressed or concerned, in a sort of blank patience,
•uddenly started out of his daze, and following thf

24 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

captain too alertly up the gangway stairs drove hii
bat against the hatch with a force that sent him
back into Lydia's arms.

" Oh, grandfather, are you hurt ? " she piteoutly
Mked, trying to pull up the hat that was jammed
down over his forehead.

" Not a bit ! But I guess my hat 's about done
for, — without I can get it pressed over ; and I
d1 know as this kind of straw doos press."

" First-rate I " called the captain from above.
"Never mind the hat." But the girl continued
fondly trying to reshape it, while the old man
fidgeted anxiously, and protested that he would be
sure to be left. It was like a half- shut accordion
when she took it from his head ; when she put it
back it was like an accordion pulled out.

" All ready I " shouted Captain Jenness from the
gap in the bulwark, where he stood waiting to de-
scend into the small boat. The old man ran to-
wards him in his senile haste, and stooped to get
over the side into the boat below.

" Why, grandfather 1 " cried the girl in a break-
leg voice, full of keen, yet tender reproach.

" I declare for 't," he said, scrambling back to
Ihe deck. " I 'most forgot. I be'n so put about."
He took Lydia's hand loosely into his own, and
bent forward to kiss her. She threw her arms
round him, and while he remained looking over
her shoulder, with a face of grotesque perplexity,
and saying, " Don't cry, Lyddy, don't cry 1 " sh«

THE LADY OF THE AKOOSTOOK. 25

pressed her face tighter into his withered neck, and
tried to muffle her homesick sobs. The sympathies
as well as the sensibilities often seem dulled by age.
They have both perhaps been wrought upon too
much in the course of the years, and can no longer
respond to the appeal or distress which they can
only dimly realize ; even the heart grows old.
" Don't you, don't you, Lyddy ! " repeated the old
man. ** You must n't. The captain 's waitin' ;
and the cars — well, every minute I lose makes it
riskier and riskier ; and your aunt Maria, she 's al-
ways so uneasy, you know ! "

The girl was not hurt by his anxiety about hiro-
aelf ; she was more anxious about him than about
anything else. She quickly lifted her head, and
drying her eyes, kissed him, forcing her lips into
the smile that is more heart-breaking to see than
weeping. She looked over the side, as her grand-
father was handed carefully down to a seat by the
two sailors in the boat, and the captain noted
her resolute counterfeit of cheerfulness. " That 'a
right ! " he shouted up to her. " Just like my girls
when their mother left 'em. But bless you, they
koon got over it, and so '11 you. Give way, men,"
he said, in a lower voice, and the boat shot from
the ship's side toward the wharf. He turned and
fBved his handkerchief to Lydia, and, stimulated
%pparent)y by this, her grandfather felt in his pock-
•ts for his handkerchief ; he ended after a vain
icarch by taking off his hat and waving that

26 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

When he put it on again, it relapsed into that like*
ness of a half-shut accordion from which Lydia had
rescued it ; but she only saw the face under it.

As the boat reached the wharf an express wagon
drove down, and Lydia saw the sarcastic parley
which she could not hear between the captain and
the driver about the belated baggage which the
latter put off. Then she saw the captain help her
grandfather to the seat between himself ard the
driver, and the wagon rattled swiftly out ol r- {ht.
One of the sailors lifted Lydia's baggage or* the
side of the wharf to the other in the boat, an»* Uej
palled off to the ship with it.

LIDIA went back to the cabin, and presently tkt
boy who had taken charge of her lighter luggage
came dragging her trunk and bag down the gang-
way stairs. Neither was very large, and even a
boy of fourteen who was small for his age might
easily manage them.

" You can stow away what 's in 'em in the draw-
ers," said the boy. " I suppose you did n't notice
the drawers," he added, at her look of inquiry. He
went into her room, and pushing aside the valance
of the lower berth showed four deep drawers below
the bed ; the charming snugness of the arrange-
ment brought a light of housewifely joy to the girl's
face.

" Why, it 's as good as a bureau. They will hold
everything."

" Yes," exulted the boy ; " they 're for two per-
§ons' things. The captain's daughters, they both
had this room. Pretty good sized too ; a good deal
the captain's build. You won't find a better state-
room than this on a steamer. I 've been on 'em."
The boy climbed up on the edge of the upper
drawer, and pulled open the window at the top of
the wall. " Give you a little air, I guess. If )on
want T should, the captain said I was to bear •

28 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

hand helping you to stow away what was in youi
trunks."

" No," said Lydia, quickly. " I d just aa soon
do it alone."

" All right," said the boy. «« If I was you, I 'd
do it now. I don't know just when the captain
means to sail ; but after we get outside, it might
be rough, and it 's better to have everything pretty
snug by that time. I '11 haul away the trunks
when you Ve got 'em empty. If I should n't hap-
pen to be here, you can just call me at the top of
the gangway, and I '11 come. My name 's Thomas,"
he said. He regarded Lydia inquiringly a moment
before he added : " If you 'd just as lives, I rather
you 'd call me Thomas, and not steward. The^
said you 'd call me steward," he explained, in «
blushing, deprecating confidence ; " and as long a«
I 've not got my growth, it kind of makes them
laugh, you know, — especially the second officer."

*• I will call you Thomas," said Lvdia.

44 Thank you." The boy glanced up at the
round clock screwed to the cabin wall. •• I guest,
you won't have to call me anything unless you
hurry. I shall be down here, laying the table for
aupper, before you 're done. The captain said I
was to lay it for you and him, and if he did n't get
back in time you was to go to eating, any way.
Gruess you won't think Captain Jenness is going
to starve anybody."

** Have you been many voyages with Captaiv

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 29

Jemiess Before this? " asked Lydia, as she set opeu
her trunk, and began to lay her dresses out on the
looker. Homesickness, like all grief, attacks in
paroxysms. One gust of passionate regret hsul
iwept over the girl; before another came, she could
occupy herself almost cheerfully with the details of
unpacking.

" Only one before," said the boy. " The laat
one, when his daughters went out. I guess it was
their coaxing got mother to let me go. My father
was killed in the war."

" Was he ? " asked Lydia, sympathetically.

" Yes. I did n't know much about it at the
time ; so little. Both your parents living ? "

"No," said Lydia. " They're both dead. They N
died a long while ago. I 've always lived with my
aunt and grandfather."

" I thought there must be something the matter,
— your coming with your grandfather," said the
boy. " I don't see why you don't let me carry in
•ome of those dresses for you. I 'm used to help-
jig about."

44 Well, you may," answered Lydia, " if you
want." A native tranquil kindness showed itself
Ji her voice and manner, but something of the ha- i
bitual authority of a school-mistress mingled with *
it. " You must be careful not to rumple them if 1
'et you."

44 I guess not. I Ve got older sisters at home.
They hated to have me leave. But I looked at it

30 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

this way : If I was ever going to sea — and I wat
— I could n't get such another captain as Cap-
bain Jenness, nor such another crew ; all the men
from down our way ; and / don't mind the second
mate's jokes much. He don't mean anything bj
them ; likes to plague, that 's all. He 's a first-rat*
•ailor."

Lydia was kneeling before one of the trunks, and
the boy was stooping over it, with a hand on either
knee. She had drawn out her only black silk dress,
and was finding it rather crumpled. " I should n't
have thought it would have got so much jammed,
coming fifty miles," she soliloquized. " But they
seemed to take a pleasure in seeing how much they
could bang the trunks." She rose to her feet and
ihook out the dress, and drew the skirt several times
over her left arm.

The boy's eyes glistened. " Goodness I " he said.
" Just new, ain't it ? Going to wear it any on
board?"

" Sundays, perhaps," answered Lydia thought-
fully, still smoothing and shaping the dress, which
ghe regarded at arm's-length, from time to time,
with her head aslant.

" I suppose ;.t 's the latest style ? " pursued the

<x>y.

" Yes, it is, ' said Lydia. *• We sent to Boston
for the pattern. I hate to pack it into one of those
drawers," she mused.

** You need n't," replied Thomas. " There 'a a
whole row of hooks."

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 31

" I want to know I " cried Lydia. She followed
Thomas into her state-room. " Well, well I They
io seem to have thought of everything ! "

" I should say so," exulted the boy. " Look
here I " He showed her a little niche near the head
of the berth strongly framed with glass, in which a
lamp was made fast. " Light up, you know, when
you want to read, or feel kind of lonesome." Lydia
clasped her hands in pleasure and amaze. " Oh, I
tell you Captain Jenness meant to have things about
right. The other state-rooms don't begin to come
up to this." He dashed out in his zeal, and opened
their doors, that she might triumph in the superi-
ority of her accommodations without delay. These
rooms were cramped together on one side ; Lydia'a
was in a comparatively ample corner by itself.

She went on unpacking her trunk, and the boy
again took his place near her, in the same attitude
as before. " I tell you," he said, " I shall like to
see you with that silk on. Have you got any other
nice ones?"

" No ; only this I 'in wearing," answered Lydia,
half amused and half honest in her sympathy with
his ardor about her finery. " They said not to bring
many clothes ; they would be cheaper over there."
She had now reached the bottom of her trunk. She
^new by the clock that her grandfather could hardly
tiave left the city on his journey home, but the in-
terval of time since she had parted with him seemecj
raat. It was as if she had started to Boston in a

32 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

former life ; the history of the choosing and cutting
and making of these clothes was like a dream oi
preexistence. She had never had so many things
new at once, and it had been a great outlay , but
her aunt Maria had made the money go as far a*
possible, and had spent it with that native taste, that
genius for dress, which sometimes strikes the summer
boarder in the sempstresses of the New England hills.
Miss Latham's gift was quaintly unrelated to her-
•elf. In dress, as in person and manner, she was
uncompromisingly plain and stiff. All the more
lavishly, therefore, had it been devoted to the grace
and beauty of her sister's child, who, ever since slie
carne to find a home in her grandfather's house, had
been more stylishly dressed than any other girl in
the village. The summer boarders, whom the keen
eye of Miss Latham studied with unerring sense of
the best new effects in costume, wondered at Lydia's
elegance, as she sat beside her aunt in the family
pew, a triumph of that grim artist's skill. Lydia
knew that she was well dressed, but she knew that
after all she was only the expression of her aunt's in-
spirations. Her own gift was of another sort. Her
father was a music-teacher, whose failing health had
obliged him to give up his profession, and who had
taken the traveling agency of a parlor organ manu-
factory for the sake of the out-door life. His busi-
ness had brought him to South Bradfield, where he
•old an organ to Deacon Latham's church, and feli
in iove with hia younger daughter. He died a few

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 38

years after his marriage, of an ancestral consumption,
his sole heritage from the good New England stock oi
which he came. His skill as a pianist, which was con-
siderable, had not descended to his daughter, but
her mother had bequeathed her a peculiarly rich and
flexible voice, with a joy in singing which was as
yet a passion little affected by culture. It was thia
voice which, when Lydia rose to join in the terrible
hymning of the congregation at South Bradfield, took
the thoughts of people off her style and beauty ; and
it was this which enchanted her father's sister when,
the summer before the date of which we write, that
lady had come to America on a brief visit, and heard
Lydia sing at her parlor organ in the old homestead.
Mrs. Erwin had lived many years abroad, chiefly in
Italy, for the sake of the climate. She was of deli-
cate health, and constantly threatened by the he-
reditary disease that had left her the last of her gen-
eration, and she had the fastidiousness of an invalid.
She was full of generous impulses which she mistook
for virtues ; but the presence of some object at once
charming and worthy was necessary to rouse these
impulses. She had been prosperously married wlmn
very young, and as a pretty American widow she
had wedded in second marriage at Naples one of those
\ Englishmen who have money enough to live at ease
j in Latin countries • he was very fond of her, and
petted her. Having no children she might long Vie-
fore have thought definitely of poor Henry's little
|ul, as she called Lydia but she had lived >erj

84 THE LADY OF Itrfi AROOSTOOK.

comfortably indefinite in regard to her ever since

the father's death. Now and then she bad sent the
child a handsome present or a sum of money. She
had it on her conscience not to let her be wholly a
burden to her grandfather ; but often her conscience
drowsed. When she came to South Bradfield, she
won the hearts of the simple family, which had
been rather hardened against her, and she professed
an enthusiasm for Lydia. She called her pretty
names in Italian, which she did not pronounce
well ; she babbled a great deal about what ought
to be done for her, and went away without doing
anything ; so that when a letter finally came, di-
recting Lydia to be sent out to her in Venice, they
Were all surprised, in the disappointment to which
they had resigned themselves.

Mrs. Erwin wrote an epistolary style exasperat-
ingly vacuous and diffuse, and, like many women of
that sort, she used pencil instead of ink, always
apologizing for it as due now to her weak eyes, and
no\y to her weak wrist, and again to her not being
able to find the ink. Her hand was full of foolish
curves and dashes, and there were no spaces be-
tween the words at times. Under these conditions
it was no light labor to get at her meaning ; but
the sum of her letter was that she wished Lydia to
cc'me out to her at once, and she suggested that, as
they could have few opportunities or none to send
hei with people going to Europe, they had bettei
«t her come the \\hole way by i»e». Mrs. Erwii

THK LADY OF TIIE AROOSTOOK. 86

remembered — in the space of a page and a half —
that nothing had ever done her so much good as a
long sea voyage, and it would be excellent foi
Lydia, who, though she looked so strong, probablj
Tieeded all the bracing up she could get. She had
made inquiries, — or, what was the same thing, Mr.
Erwin had, for her, — and she found that vessel*
from American ports seldom came to Venice ; but
they often came to Trieste, which was only a few
Hours away ; and if Mr. Latham would get Lydia
a ship for Trieste at Boston, she could come very
safely and comfortably in a few weeks. She gave
the name of a Boston house engaged in the Medi-
terranean trade to which Mr. Latham could apply
for passage ; if they were not sending any ship
themselves, they could probably recommend one to
him.

This was what happened when Deacon Latham
called at their office a few days after Mrs. Er win's
letter came. They directed him to the firm dis-
patching the Aroostook, and Captain Jenness waa
at their place when the deacon appeared there.
The captain took cordial possession of the old man
at once, and carried him down to the wharf to look
at the ship and her accommodations. The matter
was quickly settled between them. At that time
Captain Jenness did not know but he might have
>ther passengers out; at any rate, he would look
*fter the little girl (as Deacon Latham always said
In shaking of Lydia) the same as if she were nil
»wu child.

56 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

Lydia knelt before her trunk, thinking D£ the re
mote events, the extinct associations of a few min
utes and hours and days ago ; she held some cuffi
and collars in her hand, and something that hoi
aunt Maria had said recurred to her. She looked
up into the intensely interested face of the boy,
and then laughed, bowing her forehead on the back
of the hand that held these bits of linen.

The boy blushed. " What are you laughing
at?" he asked, half piteously, half indignantly,
like a boy used to being badgered.

" Oh, nothing," said Lydia. " My aunt told m«
if any of these things should happen to want doing
np, I had better get the stewardess to help me."
She looked at the boy in a dreadfully teasing way,
softly biting her lip.

44 Oh, if you 're going to begin that way ! " he
cried in affliction.

" I 'm not," she answered, promptly. " I like
lx>ys. I 've taught school two winters, and I like
boys first-rate."

Thomas was impersonally interested again.
u Time I You taught school?"

" Why not ? "

" You look pretty young for a school-teacher I "

" Now you 're making fun of me," said Lydia,
Mtutely.

The boy thought he must have been, and wa*
Kfflaoled. " Well, you began it," he said.

** I ought n't to have done so," she replied witi

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 87

humility ; " and I won't any more. There ' '' sh«
said, " I 'm not going to open my bag now. Yon
can take away the trunk when you want, Thomas."

" Yes, ma'am," said the boy. The idea of a
*'hool -mistress was perhaps beginning to awe him
a little. " Put your bag in your state-room first.'1
He did this, and when he came back from carrying
away her trunk he began to set the table. It was
a pretty table, when set, and made the little cabin
much cosier. When the boy brought the dishes
from the cook's galley, it was a barbarously abun-
dant table. There was cold boiled ham, ham and
eggs, fried fish, baked potatoes, buttered toast, tea,
cake, pickles, and watermelon ; nothing was want-
ing. " I tell you," said Thomas, noticing Lydia •
admiration, " the captain lives well lay-days."

u Lay-days ? " echoed Lydia.

'• The days we 're in port," the boy explained.

" Well, I should think as much ! " She ate with
tue hunger that tranquillity bestows upon youth
after the swift succession of strange events, and the
conflict of many emotions. The captain had not
returned in time, and she ate alone.

After a while she ventured to the top of the
gangway stairs, and stood there, looking at the
novel sights of the harbor, in the red sunset light,
which rose slowly from the hulls and lower spars of
:ne shipping, and kindled the tips of the iiigh-
ihooting masts with a quickly fading splendor. A
flush responded in the east, and rose to

/J8 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

m»*at the denser crimson of the west ; a few clouds,
incomparably light and diaphanous, bathed them-
•elves in the glow. It was a summer sunset, por •
beading for the land a morrow of great heat. Bu*
cool airs crept along the water, and the ferry-boats,
thrust shuttlewise back and forth between either
ibore, made a refreshing sound as they crushed
broad course to foam with their paddles. People
were pulling about in small boats ; from some the
gay cries and laughter of young girls struck sharply
along the tide. The noise of the quiescent city
came off in a sort of dull moan The lamps be-
gan to twinkle in the windows and the streets on
shore ; the lanterns of the ships at anchor in the
stream showed redder and redder as the twilight
fell. The homesickness began to mount from
Lydia's heart in a choking lump to her throat;
for one must be very happy to endure the sights
and sounds of tlx summer evening anywhere. She
had to shield he. eyes from the brilliancy of th«
k:oroeen« when she went below into the cabin.

IV

LYBIA did not know when the captain came on
board. Once, talking in the cabin made itself felt
through her dreams, but the dense sleep of weaij
youth closed over her again, and she did not fairly
wake till morning. Then she thought she heard
the crowing of a cock and the cackle of hens, and
fancied herself in her room at home ; the illusion
passed with a pang. The ship was moving, with a
tug at her side, the violent respirations of which
were mingled with the sound of the swift rusli of
the vessels through the water, the noise of feet on
Ihe deck, and of orders hoarsely shouted.

The girl came out into the cabin, where Thomas
was already busy with the breakfast table, and
climbed to the deck. It was four o'clock of the
Hummer's morning ; the sun had not yet reddened
the east, but the stars were extinct, or glimmered
faint points immeasurably withdrawn in the vnst
gray of the sky. At that hour there is a hovering
dimness over all, but the light on things near at
hand is wonderfully keen and clear, and the air has
an intense yet delicate freshness that seems to
breathe from the remotest spaces of the universe,
— a waft from distances beyond the sun. On the
lau«J the leases and grass are soaked with dew

40 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

the densely interwoven songs of the birds are like t
fabric that you might see and touch. But here,
save for the immediate noises on the ship, which
had already left her anchorage far behind, th€
shouting of the tug's escape-pipes, and the huge,
swirling gushes from her powerful wheel, a sort of
spectacular silence prevailed, and the sounds were
like a part of this silence. Here and there a small
fishing schooner came lagging slowly in, as if be-
Jated, with scarce wind enough to fill her sails
now and then they met a steamboat, towering
white and high, a many-latticed bulk, with no ouo
to be seen on board but the pilot at his wheel,
and a few sleepy passengers on the forward prom-
enade. The city, so beautiful arid stately from
the bay, was dropping, and sinking away behind.
They passed green islands, some of which were
fortified : the black guns looked out over the neatly
shaven glacis ; the sentinel paced the rampart.

" Well, well 1 " shouted Captain Jen ness, catch-
ing sight of Lydia where she lingered at the cabin
door. " You are an early bird. Glad to see you
up ! Hope you rested well ! Saw your grand
father off all right, ami kept him from taking the
wrong train with my own hand. He's terribly ex-
citable. Well, I suppose I shall be just so, at hia
age. Here ! " The captain caught up a stool and
»»*t it near the bulwark for her. " There I Yo1-
v/ako yourself comfortable wherever you like,
foe 're at home, you know." He was off again IB

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 41

ft moment. Lydia cast her eye over at the tug.
On the deck, near the pilot-house, stood the young
man who had stopped the afternoon before, while
she sat at the warehouse door, and asked her grand-
father if she were not ill. At his feet was a sub
itantial valise, and over his arm hung a shawl. He
was smoking, and seated near him, on another
valise, was his companion of the day before, also
smoking. In the instant that Lydia caught sight
of them, she perceived that they both recognized
her and exchanged, as it were, a start of surprise.
But they remained as before, except that he who
was seated drew out a fresh cigarette, and without
looking up reached to the other for a light. They
were both men of good height, and they looked
fresh and strong, with something very alert in their
slight movements, — sudden turns of the head and
brisk nods, which were not nervously quick. Lydia
wondered at their presence there in an ignorance
which could not even conjecture. She knew too
little to know that they could not have any desti-
nation on the tug, and that they would not be mak-
ing a pleasure-excursion at that hour in the morn-
Ing. Their having their valises with them deepened
the mystery, which was not solved till the tug'
engines fell silent, and at an unnoticed order
kpace in the bulwark not far from Lydia wa.
apeiied and steps were let down the side of the
inip. Then the young men, who had remained, tc
»il appearance, perfectly unconcerned, caught up

12 THE LADF OF THE ABOOSTOOK.

their valises and climbed to the deck of the Arooa-
took. They did not give her more than a glance
out of the corr.ers of theii eyes, but the surprise oi
their coming on board was so great a shock that
she did not observe that the tug, casting loose fr _>m
the ship, was describing a curt and foamy semi-
circle for her return to the city, and that the
Aroostook, with a cloud of snowy canvas filling
overhead, was moving over the level sea with the
light ease of a bird that half swims, half flies, along
fhe water. A sudden dismay, which was somehow
not fear so much as an overpowering sense of isola-
tion, fell upon the girl. She caught at Thomas,
going forward with some dishes in his hand, with a
pathetic appeal.

44 Where are you going, Thomas? "

41 1 'ra going to the cook's galley to help dish up
the breakfast."

44 T/lmt 's the cook's galley ? "

44 lkou't you know ? The kitchen."

41 Let me go with you. I should like to see the
kitchen." She trembled with eagerness. Arrived
At the door of the narrow passage that ran across
the deck aft of the forecastle, she looked in and
KXW, amid a haze of frying and broiling, the short,
stooky figure of a negro, bow-legged, and unnatu-
rally erect from the waist up. At sight of Lydia,
he made a respectful duck forward with his un-
eoutl: body. " Why, are you the cook ? " she at
screamed in response to this obeisance.

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 43

" Yes, miss, " said the man, humbly, -with a turn
*f the pleading black eyes of the negro.

Lydia grew more peremptory: " Why — why —
J thought the cook was a woman I "

"Very sorry, miss," began the negro, with a
leprecatory smile, in a slow, mild voice.

Thomas burst into a boy's yelling laugh • " Well,
*f that ain't the best joke on Gabriel! He '11 never
hear the last of it when I tell it to the second
officer ! "

" Thomas I " cried Lydia, terribly, " you shall
not ! " She stamped her foot. " Do you hear
me ? "

The boy checked his laugh abruptly. "Yes,
ma'am," he said submissively.

"Well, then!" returned Lydia. She stalked
proudly back to the cabin gangway, and descending
fcbut herself into her state-room.

A FEW hours later Deacon Latham canoe into th«
house with a milk-pan full of pease. He set thii
down on one end of the kitchen table, with his straw
hat beside it, and then took a chair at the other end
and fell into the attitude of the day before, when ha
sat in the parlor with Lydia and Miss Maria waiting
for the stage ;^his mouth was puckered to a whistle,
and his fingers were held above the board in act to
drub it. Miss Maria turned the pease out on the
table, and took the pan into her lap. She shelled at
the pease in silence, till the sound of their pelting,
as they were dropped on the tin, was lost in tlieii
multitude ; then she said, with a sharp, querulous,
pathetic impatience, " Well, father, I suppose
you're thinkin' about Lyddy,"

" Yes, Maria, I be," returned her father, with
uncommon plumpness, as if here now were some-
thing he had made up his mind to stand to. " I
been thinkin' that Lyddy 's a woman grown, aa
you may say."

" Yes," admitted Miss Maria, " she 's a woman,
%s far forth as that goes. What put it into your
head?"

" Well, I d' know as I know. But it 's just like
this : 1 got to thinkin' whether she might n't get

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 4$

to teelin' rather lonely on the voyage, without any
other woman to talk to."

" I guess," said Miss Maria, tranquilly, " she V
goin' to feel lonely enough at times, any way, poor
thing ! But I told her if she wanted advice or help
%bout anything just to go to the stewardess. That
Mrs. Bland that spent the summer at the Parkers'
last year was always tellin' how they went to the
stewardess for most everything, and sh<s give her
five dollars in gold when they got into Boston. I
should n't want Lyddy should give so much as that,
but I should want she should give something, aa
long 's it 's the custom."

" They don't have 'em on sailin' vessels, Captain
Jenness said ; they only have 'em on steamers,"
said Deacon Latham.

"Have w'uat?" asked Miss Maria, sharply.

" Stewardesses. They 've got a cabin-boy."

Miss Maria desisted a moment from, her work ,
then she answered, with a gruff shortness peculiar
to her, " Well, then, she can go to the cook, I sup-
pose. It would n't matter which she went to, I
presume."

Deacon Latham looked up with the air of confess-
ing to siii before the whole congregation. " The
cook 's a man, — a black man," he said.

Miss Maria dropped a handful of pods into the
fart, and sent a handful of peas rattling across the
Able on to the floor. "Well, who in Time " —
&e expression was strong, but she used it without

46 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

hesitation, and was never known to repent it -
" will she go to, then ? "

** I declare for 't," said her father, " I don't
know. I d' know as I ever thought it out fairly
before ; but just now when I was pickin' the pease
for you, ray mind got to dwellin' on Lyddy, and
then it come to me all at once : there she was, the
only one among a whole shipful, and I — I did n't
know but what she might think it rather of a
gtrange position for her."

" Oh ! " exclaimed Miss Maria, petulantly. " I
guess Lyddy 'd know how to conduct herself wher-
ever she was ; she 's a born lady, if ever there was
one. But what I think is " — Miss Maria paused,
and did not say what she thought ; but it was evi-
dently not the social aspect of the matter which
was uppermost in her mind. In fact, she had
never been at all afraid of men, whom she regarded
as a more inefficient and feebler-minded kind of
women.

" The only thing 't makes me feel easier is what
the captain said about the young men," said Dea-
con Latham.

" What young men ? " asked Miss Maria.

" Why, I told you about 'em ! " retorted the old
man, with some exasperation.

" You told me about two young men that stopped
on the wharf and pitied Lyddy's worn-out looks."

" Did n't I tell you the rest ? I declare for 't, I
don't believe I did I be'n so put about. Well, ut

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 47

we was drivin' up to the depot, we met the same
fcwo young men, and the captain asked 'em, 'Are
you goin' or not a-goin' ? ' — just that way; and
they said, ' We 're goin'.' And he said, * When
you comin' aboard ? ' and he told 'em he was goiu'
to haul out this mornin' at three o'clock. And
they asked what tug, and he told 'em, and they
fixed it up between 'em all then that they was to
come aboard from the tug, when she 'd got the ship
outside ; and that 's what I suppose they did. The
captain he said to me he had n't mentioned it be-
fore, because he wa' n't sure 't they 'd go till that
minute. He give 'em a first-rate of a character."

Miss Maria said nothing for a long while. The
subject seemed one with which she did not feel
herself able to grapple. She looked all about the
kitchen for inspiration, and even cast a searching
glance into the wood-shed. Suddenly she jumped
from her chair, and ran to the open window : " Mr.
Goodlow ! Mr. Goodlow I I wish you 'd come in
her« a minute.5'

She hurried to meet the minister at the front
fcoor, her father lagging after her with the infantile
walk of an old man.

Mr. Goodlow took off his straw hat as he mounted
the stone step to the threshold, and said good-
morning ; they did not shake hands. He wore a
clack alpaca coat, and waistcoat of farmer's satin •
his hat was dark straw, like Deacon Latham's, but
It was low-crowned, and a line of ornamental open*
vork ran round it near the too.

48 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" Come into the settin'-room," said Miss Mai i&
" It 's cooler, in there." She lost no time in laymg
fche case before the minister. She ended by say-
ing, " Father, he don't feel just right about it, and
I d' know as I 'in quite clear in my own mind."

The minister considered a while in silence before
lie said, " I think Lydia's influence upon those
around her will be beneficial, whatever her situa^
tion in life may be."

44 There, father ! " cried Miss Maria, in reproach-
ful relief.

" You 're right, Maria, you 're right ! " assented
the old man, and they both waited for the minister
to continue.

" I rejoiced with you," he said, " when this op-
portunity for Lydia's improvement offered, and I
am not disposed to feel anxious as to the ways and
means. Lydia is no fool. I have observed in her a
dignity, a sort of authority, very i emarkable in one
of her years."

" I guess the boys at the school down to the
Mill Village found out she had authority enough,"
•aid Miss Maria, promptly materializing the idea.

44 Precisely," said Mr. Goodlow.

" That 's what I told father, in the first plac«s"
•aid Miss Maria. " I guess Lyddy 'd know how to
conduct herself wherever she was, — just the woidi
I used."

44 1 don't deny it, Maria, I don't deny it,"
ihrilly piped the old man. '4 1 ain't afraid of any

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 49

barm comin' to Lyddy any more 'n what you be.
But what I said was, Wouldn't she feel kind oi
strange, sort of lost, as you may say, among so
many, and she the only one ? "

" She will know how to adapt herself to circum-
itances," said Mr. Goodlow. " I was conversing
last summer with that Mrs. Bland who boarded at
Mr. Parker's, and she told me that girls in Europe
are brought up with no habits of self-reliance what- -
ever, and that young ladies are never seen on the
»treets alone in France and Italy."

** Don't you think," asked Miss Maria, hesitat-
ing to accept this ridiculous statement, " that Mrs.
Bland exaggerated some ? "

" She talked a great deal," admitted Mr. Good-
low. " I should be sorry if Lydia ever lost any-
thing of that native confidence of hers in her own
judgment, and her ability to take care of herself
under any circumstances, and I do not think she
will. She never seemed conceited to me, but she
was the most self-reliant girl I ever saw."

" You Ve hit it there, Mr. Goodlow. Such a
ipirit as she always had ! " sighed Miss Maria.
' It was just so from the first. It used to go to my
heart to see that little thing lookin' after herself,
•very way, and not askin' anybody's help, but just
»s quiet and proud about it I She 's her mother,
til over. And yest'day, when she set here waitin
vor the stage, and it did seem as if I should have
60 give up, hearin' her sob, sob, sob, — why, Mr,
4

50 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

Goodlow, she had n't any more idea of backin' OE!
than — than " — Miss Maria relinquished the search
for a comparison, and went into another room for a
handkerchief. " I don 't believe she cared over and
above about goin', from the start," said Miss Ma-
ria, returning, " but when once she 'd made up her
mind to it, there she was. I d' know as she took
much of a fancy to her aunt, but you could n't told
from anything that Lyddy said. Now, if I have
anything on my mind, I have to blat it right out,
as you may say ; I can't seem to bear it a minute ;
but Lyddy 's different. Well," concluded Miss Ma
ria, " I guess there ain't goin' to any harm come
to her. But it did give me a kind of start, first off,
when father up and got to feelin' sort of bad about
it. I d' know as I should thought much about it, il
he had n't seemed to. I d' know as I should ever
thought about anything except her not havin' any
one to advise with about her clothes. It 's the
only thing she ain't handy with : she won't know
what to wear. I 'm afraid she '11 spoil her silk.
I d' know but what father 's been hasty in not look-
in' into things carefuller first. He most always doei
repent afterwards."

" Could n't repent beforehand ! " retorted Deacon
1/atham. " And I tell you, Maria, I never saw a
much finer man than Captain Jenness; and the
«aoin 's everything I said it was, and more. Lyddy
reg'larly went off over it; 'n' I guess, as Mr. Good.
tow says, she '11 influence 'em for good. Don't you

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 61

tret about her clothes any. You fitted her out in
apple-pie order, and she '11 soon be there. 'T ain't
but a little ways to Try-East, any way, to what it
is some of them India voyages, Captain Jennesa
said. He had his own daughters out the last voy-
age ; 'n' I guess he can tell Lyddy when it 's
weather to wear her silk. I d? know as I 'd better
said anything about what I was thinkin'. I don't
want to be noways rash, and yet I thought I
could n't be too partic'lar."

For a silent moment Miss Maria looked sourly
uncertain as to the usefulness of scruples that came
so long after the fact. Then she said abruptly
fco Mr. Goodlow, " Was it you or Mr. Baldwin
preached Mirandy Holoomb's fune'l sermon ? "

VI

the advantages of the negative part a»
«igned to women in life is that they are seldom
forced to commit themselves. They can, if they
choose, remain perfectly passive while a great many
things take place in regard to them ; they need not
account for what they do not do. From time to
time a man must show his hand, but save for one
supreme exigency a woman need never show hers.
She moves in mystery as long as she likes ; and
mere reticence in her, if she is young and fair, iiv
terprets itself as good sense and good taste.

Lydia was, by convention as well as by instinct,
mistress of the situation when she came out to
breakfast, and confronted the young men again
with collected nerves, and a reserve which was per-
haps a little too proud. The captain was there to
introduce them, and presented first Mr. Dunham,
the gentleman who had spoken to her grandfather
on the wharf, and then Mr. Staniford, his friend
and senior by some four or five years. They were
both of the fair New England complexion ; but
Dunham's eyes were blue, and Stamford's dark
gray. Their mustaches were blonde, but Dun-
ham's curled jauntily outward at the corners, and
bis light hair waved over either temple from thi

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 68

parting in the middle. Stamford's mustache wa«
cut short ; his hair was clipped tight to his shapely
head, and not parted at all ; he had a slightly aqui-
line nose, with sensitive nostrils, showing the carti-
lage ; his face was darkly freckled. They were both
handsome fellows, and fittingly dressed in rough
blue, which they wore like men with the habit oi
good clothes ; they made Lydia such bows as she
had never seen before. Then the Captain intro-
duced Mr. Watterson, the first officer, to all, and
sat down, saying to Thomas, with a sort of guilty
and embarrassed growl, " Ain't he out yet ? Well,
we won't wait," and with but little change of tone
asked a blessing ; for Captain Jenness in his way
was a religious man.

There was a sixth plate laid, but the captain
made no further mention of the person who was not
out yet till shortly after the coffee was poured, when
the absentee appeared, hastily closing his state-room
door behind him, and then waiting on foot, with a
half-impudent, half-intimidated air, while Captain
Jenness, with a sort of elaborate repressiveness,
presented him as Mr. Hicks. He was a short and
i/light young man, with a small sandy mustache
curling tightly in over his lip, floating reddish-blue
eyes, and a deep dimple in his weak, slightly re-
treating chin. He had an air at once amiable and
caddish, with an expression, curiously blended, ol
•nonkey-like humor and spaniel-like apprehensive-
He did not look well, and till he had swal

54 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

lowed two cups of coffee his hand shook. The cap
tain watched him furtively from under his bushj
eyebrows, and was evidently troubled and preoccu-
pied, addressing a word now and then to Mr. Wat-
terson, who, by virtue of what was apparently the
ship's discipline, spoke only when he was spoken
to, and then answered with prompt acquiescence.
Dunham and Staniford exchanged not so much a
glance as a consciousness in regard to him, which
seemed to recognize and class him. They talked
to each other, and sometimes to the captain. Once
they spoke to Lydia. Mr. Dunham, for example,
Baid, " Miss — ah — Blood, don't you think we are
uncommonly fortunate in having such lovely weather
for a start-off ? "

" I don't know," said Lydia.

Mr. Dunham arrested himself in the use of hia
fork. " I beg your pardon ? " he smiled.

It seemed to be a question, and after a moment's
doubt Lydia answered, " I did n't know it was
itrange to have fine weather at the start."

" Oh, but I can assure you it is," said Dunham,
with a certain lady-like sweetness of manner which
he had. " According to precedent, we ought to be
all deathly seasick."

"Not at this time of year," said Captain Jen-

04388.

" Not at this time of year" repeated Mr. Wat-

lorson, as if the remark were an order to the crew.

Dunham referred the matter with a look to hi*

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 66

friend, who refused to take part in it, and then he
let it drop. But presently Staniford himself at-
tempted the civility of some conversation with
Lydia. He asked her gravely, and somewhat se-
verely, if she had suffered much from the keat of
the day before.

« Yes," said Lydia, " it was very hot."

" I 'm told it was the hottest day of the summer,
•o far," continued Staniford, with the same sever
ity.

" I want to know ! " cried Lydia.

The young man did not say anything more.

As Dunham lit his cigar at Staniford's on deck,
i' the former said significantly, " What a very Amer-
? lean thing ! "

" What a bore ! " answered the other.

Dunham had never been abroad, as one might
imagine from his calling Lydia's presence a very
American thing, but he had always consorted with
people who had lived in Europe ; he read the Re-
vue des Deux. Mondes habitually, and the London
weekly newspapers, and this gave him the foreign
Btand-point from which he was fond of viewing his
mttive world. " It 's incredible," he added. " Who
n the world can she be ? "

"Oh, /don't know," returned Staniford, with a
•old disgust. " I should object to the society of
rich a young person for a mouth or six weeks un-
ier the most favorable circumstances, and with fre-
quent respites ; but to be imprisoned on the

56 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOR.

L ihip with her, and to have her on one's mind and
% in one's way the whole time, is more than I bar-
pained for. Captain Jenness should have told ua
though I suppose he thought that if she could stand
it, we might. There 's that point of view. But it
takes all ease and comfort out of the prospect.
Here conies that blackguard." Stamford turned
his back towards Mr. Hicks, who was approaching,
but Dunham could not quite do this, though he
waited for the other to speak first.

" Will you — would you oblige me with a light ? "
Mr. Hicks asked, taking a cigar from his case.

" Certainly," said Dunham, with the comradery
of the smoker.

Mr. Hicks seemed to gather courage from hi*
cigar. " You did n't expect to find a lady passen-
ger on board, did you ? " His poor disagreeable
little face was lit up with unpleasant enjoyment of
the anomaly. Dunham hesitated for an answer.

" One never can know what one's fellow passen-
gers are going to be," said Staniford, turning about,
and looking not at Mr. Hicks's face, but his feet,
with an effect of being, upon the whole, disap-
pointed not to find them cloven. He added, to put
th* man down rather than from an exact belief in
his own suggestion, " She 's probably some relation
D£ the captain's."

•* Why, that 'a the joke of it," said Hicks, flut-
tered with his superior knowledge. "I've been
pa raping the cabin-boy, aud he says the captain

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 57

never saw her till yesterday. She 's an up-country
•chocl-ma^m, and she came down here with her
grandfather yesterday. She 's going out to meet
friends of hers in Venice." The little man pulled
at his cigar, and coughed and chuckled, and waited
jonfidently for the impression.

" Dunham," said Staniford, " did I hand you that
iketch-block of mine to put in your bag, when w«
were packing last night ? "

" Yes, I 've got it."

" I 'm glad of that. Did you see Murray yester-
day?"

" No ; he was at Cambridge."

" I thought he was to have met you at Parker's."

The conversation no longer included Mr. Hicks or

the subject he had introduced ; after a moment's

hesitation, he walked away to another part of the

ship. As soon as he was beyond ear-shot, Staniford

. again spoke : " Dunham, this girl is plainly one of

.- those cases of supernatural innocence, on the part

of herself and her friends, which, as you suggested,

would n't occur among any other people in the

World but ours."

" You 're a good fellow, Staniford ! " cried Dun-
ham.

" Not at all. I call myself simply a human
being, with the elemental instincts of a gentleman,
as far as concerns this matter. The girl has been
placed in a position which could be made very pain-
tol to her. It seems to me it's our part to prevent

£8 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

\t from being so. I doubt if she finda it at fiJJ
anomalous, and if we choose she need never do so
till after we 've parted with her. I fancy we can
preserve her unconsciousness intact."

" Staniford, this is like you," said his friend, with
glistening eyes. " I had some wild notion of the
kind myself, but I 'm so glad you spoke of it first."

" Well, never mind," responded Staniford. " We
must make her feel that there is nothing irregular
or uncommon in her being here as she is. I don't
know how the matter 's to be managed, exactly ; it
must be a negative benevolence for the most part ;
but it can be done. The first thing is to cow that
nuisance yonder. Pumping the cabin-boy I The
little sot ! Look here, Dunham ; it 's such a satis-
faction to me to think of putting that fellow under
foot that I '11 leave you all the credit of saving the
young lady's feelings. I should like to begin stamp-
ing on him at once."

" I think you have made a beginning already. I
confess I wish vou had n't such heavy nails in your
boots!"

" Oh, they '11 do him good, confound him I " said
Staniford.

" 1 should have liked it better if her name had n't
been Blood," remarked Dunham, presently.

* It does n't matter what a girl's surname is. Be-
tides, Blood is very frequent in some parts of tht
State."

" She 's very pretty, is n't she ? " Dunham eug*
Vested.

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 69

'* Oh, pretty enough, yes," replied StaniforA
'Nothing is so common as the pretty girl of oui
nation. Her beauty is part of the general tiresome-
ness of the whole situation."

u Don't you think," ventured his friend, further,
u that she has rather a lady-like air ? "

"She wanted to know," said Staniford, with a
laugh.

Dunham was silent a while before he asked,
" What do you suppose her first name is ? "

" Jerusha, probably."

" Oh, impossible ! "

" Well, then, — Lurella. You have no idea ol
the grotesqueness of these people's minds. I used
to see a great deal of their intimate life when I went
on my tramps, and chanced it among them, for bed
and board, wherever I happened to be. We culti-
vated Yankees and the raw material seem hardly of
the same race. Where the Puritanism has gone out
of the people in spots, there 's the rankest growth
Df all sorts of crazy heresies, and the old scriptural
nomenclature has given place to something com-
pounded of the fancifulness of story-paper romance
and the gibberish of spiritualism. They make up
their names, sometimes, and call a child by what
lounds pretty to them. I wonder how the captain
picked up that scoundrel."

The turn of Stamford's thought to Hicks was
mggested by the appearance of Captain Jerness,
flrho now issued from the cabin gangway, and cam*

5C THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

toward them with the shadow of unwonted trouble
in his face. The captain, too, was smoking.

" Well, gentlemen," he began, with the obvious
indirectness of a man not used to diplomacy, " how
do you like your accommodations ? "

Staniford silently acquiesced in Dunham's replv
that they found them excellent. " But you don't
mean to say," Dunham added, " that you 're going
to give us beefsteak and all the vegetables of the
season the whole way over ? "

" No," said the captain ; " we shall put you on
sea-fare soon enough. But you '11 like it. You
don't want the same things at sea that you do on
shore ; your appetite chops round into a different
quarter altogether, and you want salt beef; but
you '11 get it good. Your room 's pretty snug," he
suggested.

44 Oh, it's big enough," said Staniford, to whom
he had turned as perhaps more in authority than
Dunham. " While we 're well we only sleep in it,
and if we're seasick it doesn't matter where we
are."

The captain knocked the ash from his cigar with
the tip of his fat little finger, and looked down.
'* I was in hopes I could have let you had a room
ipiece, but I had another passenger jumped on me
at the last minute. I suppose you see what 's th«
matter with Mr. Hicks?" He looked up from one
Vo another, and they replied with a glance of per-
«ct intelligence. " I don't generally talk mj

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 61

passengers over with one another, but I thought
I 'd better speak to you about him. I found him
yesterday evening at my agents', with his father.
He 's just been on a spree, a regular two weeks'
feoar, amd the old gentleman did n't know what to do
with him, on shore, any longer. He thought he 'd
aend him to sea a voyage, and see what would como
of it, and he plead hard with me to take him. I
did n't want to take him, but he worked away at
me till I could n't say no. I argued in my own
mind that he could n't get anything to drink on
my ship, and that he 'd behave himself well enough
as long as he was sober." The captain added rue-
fully, " He looks worse this morning than he did
last night. He looks bad. I told the old gentle-
man that if he got into any trouble at Try- East, or
any of the ports where we touched, he should n't
set foot on my ship again. But I guess he '11 keep
pretty straight. He has n't got any money, for one
thing."

Staniford laughed. " He stops drinking for
obvious reasons, if for no others, like Artemus
Ward's destitute inebriate. Did you think only
of us in deciding whether you should take him ? "

The captain looked up quickly at the young men,
la if touched in a sore place. " Well, there again
I didn't seem to get my bearings just right. I
suppose you mean the young lady ? " Staniford
oiotionlessly and silently assented. " Well, she '•
wore of a young lady than 1 thought si e was, when

62 THE LADY OP THE AROOSTOOK.

her grandfather first come down here and talked ol
sending her over with me. He was always speak-
ing about his little girl, you know, and I got the
idea that she was about thirteen, or eleven, may be.
I thought the child might be some bother on the
voyage, but thinks I, I 'm used to children, and I
guess I can manage. Bless your soul ! when I firs*
see her on the wharf yesterday, it most knocked ma
down ! I never believed she was half so tall, IK-
half so good-looking." Staniford smiled at thia
expression of the captain's despair, but the captain
did not smile. " Why, she was as pretty as a bird
Well, there I was. It was no time then to back
out. The old man would n't understood. Besides,
there was the young lady herself, and she seemed
BO lorlorn and helpless that I kind of pitied her. I
thought, What if it was one of my own girls ? And
I made up my mind that she should n't know from
anything I said or did that she was n't just as much
at home and just as much in place on my ship as
she would be in my house. I suppose what made
me feel easier about it, and took the queerness off
Borne, was my having my own girls along last voy-
age. To be sure, it ain't quite the same thing,'
aaid the captain, interrogatively.

" Not quite," assented Staniford.

"If there was two of them," said the captain, "I
don't suppose I should feel so ba-'i about it. But
vhinks I, A lady 's a lady the world over, and a
gentlexuap H a gentleman." The captain looked

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 63

significantly at the young men. " As for that other
fellow," added Captain Jenness, " if I cau't tako
care of him, I think I 'd better stop going to se«i
altogether, and go into the coasting trade."

He resumed his cigar with defiance, and wat
about turning away when Staniford spoke. " Cap-
tain Jenness, my friend and I had been talking thii
little matter over just before you came up. Will
you let me say that I 'm rather proud of having
reasoned in much the same direction as yourself ? "

This was spoken with that air which gave Stan
iford a peculiar distinction, and made him the de-
spair and adoration of his friend: it endowed the
subject with seriousness, and conveyed a sentiment
of grave and noble sincerity. The captain held
out a hand to each of the young men, crossing hia
wrists in what seemed a favorite fashion with him.
"Good!" he cried, heartily. "I thought I kiwr

VII

STAJTIFORD and Dunham drew stools to the mil
•ltd sat down with their cigars after the captaia
left them. The second mate passed by, and cast
ft friendly glance at them ; he had whimsical browa
eyes that twinkled under his cap-peak, while a
lurking smile played under his heavy mustache ;
but he did not speak. Staniford said, there was a
pleasant fellow, and he should like to sketch him.
He was only an amateur artist, and he had been
only an amateur in life otherwise, so far ; but lie
did not pretend to have been anything else.

" Then you 're not sorry you came, Staniford ? "
fcsked Dunham, putting his hand on his friend's
knee. He characteristically assumed the responsi-
bility, although the voyage by sailing-vessel rather
than steamer was their common whim, and it had
been Staniford's preference that decided them for
Trieste rather than any nearer port.

"No, I'm not sorry, — if you call it come, a1-
ready. I think a bit of Europe will be a very
good thing for the present, or as long as I 'm in thia
irresolute mood. If I understand it, Europe ia the
t~ place for American irresolution. When I 've made
up my mind, I '11 come home again. I still think
Colorado is the thing, though I have n't abandoned

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 66

California altogether ; it 'a a question of cattle-
range and sheep-ranch."

" You '11 decide against both," said Dunham.

" How would you like West Virginia ? They
cattle-range in West Virginia, too. They may
§heep-ranch, too, for all I know, — no, that 's in Old
Virginia. The trouble is that the Virginias, other
wise irreproachable, are not paying fields for such
enterprises. They say that one is a sure thing in
California, and the other is a sure thing in Col-
orado. They give you the figures." Staniford lit
another cigar.

" But why should n't you stay where you are,
Staniford? You 've money enough left, after all."

" Yes, money enough for on.e. But there 's some-
thing ignoble in living on a small stated income,
unless you nave some object in view besides living,
and I have n't, you know. It 's a duty I owe to the
general frame of things to make more money."

" If you turned your mind to any one thing, I 'm
•ure you 'd succeed where you are," Dunham urged.

"That's just the trouble," retorted his friend.
44 1 can't turn my mind to any one thing, — I 'no
too universally gifted. I paint a little, I model a
little, I play a very little indeed ; I can write A
book notice. The ladies praise my art, and thf
vlitors keep my literature a long time before they
print it. This does n't seem the highest aim of be-
»ng. I have the noble earth-hunger : I must get
tpon the land. That 's why I 've got upon th«

66 -HE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

water. ' Staniford laughed again, and pulled com-
fortably at his cigar. "Now, you," he added, aftei
a pause, in which Dunham did not reply, " you bara
not had losses; you still have everything comfort-
able about you. Du hast Alles was Menschen be-
gehr, even to the schonsten Augen of the divine
Miss Hibbard."

" Yes, Staniford, that 's it. I hate your going
out there all alone. Now, if you were taking some
nice girl with you ! " Dunham said, with a lover's
fond desire that his friend should be in love, too.

" To those wilds ? To a redwood shanty in Cali-
fornia, or a turf hovel in Colorado ? What nice
girl would go ? 'I will take some savage woman,
she shall rear my dusky race.' "

" I don't like to have you take any risks of de
generating," began Dunham.

" With what you know to be my natural tend-
encies ? Your prophetic eye prefigures my panta-
loons in the tops of my boots. Well, there is time
yet to turn back from the brutality of a patriarchal
life. You must allow that I 've taken the longest
way round in going West. In Italy there are many
chances ; and besides, you know, I like to talk."

It seemed to be an old subject between them,
and they discussed it languidly, like some abstract
topic rather than a reality.

" If you only had some tie to bind you to the
East, I should feel pretty safe about you," said
Dunham, presently.

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 6*

a I have you," answered his friend, demurely.

** Oh, I 'm nothing," said Dunham, with sincer-
ity.

" Well, I may form some tie in Italy. Art may
fall in love with me, there. How would you lik«
to have me settle in Florence, and set up a studio
instead of a ranch, — choose between sculpture and
painting, instead of cattle and sheep? After all,
it does grind me to have lost that money I If 1
had only been swindled out of it, I should n't have
cared ; but when you go and make a bad thing of
it yourself, with your eyes open, there 's a reluc-
tance to place the responsibility where it belongs
that doesn't occur in the other case. Dunham, do
you think it altogether ridiculous that I should feel
there was something sacred in the money ? When
1 remember how hard my poor old father worked
to get it together, it seems wicked that I should
have stupidly wasted it on the venture I did. I
want to get it back ; I want to make money. And
BO I 'm going out to Italy with you, to waste more.
I don't respect myself as I should if I were on a
Pullman palace car, speeding westward. I'll own
I like this better."

"• Oh, it 's all right, Stamford," said his friend.
u The voyage will do you good, and you '11 have
time to think everything over, and start fairer when
you get back."

** That girl," observed Stamford, with characteris-
tic abruptness, " is a type that is commoner than we

THE LAD\ OF THE AROOSTOOK.

imagine in New England. We fair people fancj
we are the only genuine Yankees. I guess that 'a
a mistake. There must have been a good many
dark Puritans. In fact, we always think of Puri-
tans as dark, don't we ? "

" I believe we do," assented Dunham. " Per
haps on account of their black clothes."

** Perhaps," said Stamford. " At any rate, I 'ra
BO tired of the blonde type in fiction that I rathe*
like the other thing in life. Every novelist runs a
blonde heroine ; I wonder why. This girl has the
clear Southern pallor ; she 's of the olive hue ; and
her eves are black as sloes, — not that I know what
sloes are. Did she remind you of anything in par-
ticular ? "

" Yes ; a little of Faed's Evangeline, as she sat
in the door-way of the warehouse yesterday."

" Exactly. I wish the picture were more of a
picture ; but I don't know that it matters. She '«
more of a picture."

" l Pretty as a bird,' the captain said."

" Bird is n't bad. But the bird is in her manner.
There 1s something tranquilly alert in her manner
that's like a bird; like a bird that lingeis on its
perch, looking at you over its shoulder, if yon
come up behind. That trick of the heavily lifted,
half lifted eyelids, — I wonder if it 's a trick. The
long lashes can't be , she can't make them curl up
at the «*dges. Blood, — Lurella Blood. And sh«
to know." Stamford's voice fell thoughtful

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 69

(< She 'B more slender than Faed's Evangeline. Faed
painted rather too fat a sufferer on that tombstone.
Lurella Blood has a very pretty figure. Lurella.
Why Lurella ? "

" Oh, come, Staniford I " cried Dunham. " It is
nV fair to call the girl by that jingle without some
ground for it."

44 1 'm sure her name's Lurella, for she wanted
to know. Besides, there 's as much sense in it as
there is in any name. It sounds very well. Lurella.
It is mere prejudice that condemns the novel col-
location of syllables."

" I wonder what she 's thinking of now, — what 'a
passing in her mind," mused Dunham aloud.

" You want to know, too, do you ? " mocked hia
friend. " I '11 tell you what : processions of young
men so long that they are an hour getting by a
given point. That 's what 's passing in every girl's
mind — when she 's thinking. It 's perfectly right.
Processsions of young girls are similarly passing in
our stately and spacious intellects. It 's the chief
business of the youth of one sex to think of the
youth of the other sex."

" Oh, yes, I know," assented Dunham ; " and J
believe in it, too " —

" Of course you do, you wicked wretch, you aban-
doned Lovelace, you bruiser of ladies' hearts I YOL
oope the procession is composed entirely of your-
•elf. What would the divine Hibbard say to youi
jomgs-on ? "

TO THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" Oh, don't, Staniford ! It is n't fair," pleaded
Dunham, with the flattered laugh which the best of
teen give when falsely attainted of gallantry. " 1
*as wondering whether she was feeling homesick,
or strange, or " —

" I will go below and ask her," said Staniford
" I know she will tell me the exact truth. The^
always do. Or if you will take a guess of mine in
itead of her word for it, I will hazard the surmise
that she is not at all homesick. What has a pretty
young girl to regret in such a life as she has left?
It 's the most arid and joyless existence under the
sun. She has never known anything like society.
In the country with us, the social side must always
have been somewhat paralyzed, but there are mon-
umental evidences of pleasures in other days that
are quite extinct now. You see big dusty ball-
rooms in the old taverns : ball-rooms that have had
no dancing in them for half a century, and where
they give you a bed sometimes. There used to be
academies, too, in the hill towns, where they fur-
nished a rude but serviceable article of real learn-
ing, and where the local octogenarian remembers
seeing something famous in the way of theatricals
on examination-day; but neither his children nor
bis grandchildren have seen the like. There 's a
decay of the religious sentiment, and the church ia
no longer a social centre, with merry meetings
among the tombstones between the morning and
the afternoon service. Superficial humanitariamsm

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 71

of one kind or another has killed the good old or-
thodoxy, as the railroads have killed the turnpike*
and the country taverns ; and the common schools
have killed the academies. Why, I don t suppose
this girl ever saw anything livelier than a town-
fhip cattle show, or a Sunday-school picnic, in her
life. They don't pay visits in the country except at
rare intervals, and their evening parties, when they
Lave any, are something to strike you dead with
p'ty. They used to clear away the corn-husks and
pumpkins on the barn floor, and dance by the light
of tin lanterns. At least, that 's the traditional
thing. The actual thing is sitting around four sides
of the room, giggling, whispering, looking at pho-
tograph albums, and coaxing somebody to play on
the piano. The banquet is passed in the form of
apples and water. I have assisted at some rural
festivals where the apples were omitted. Upon the
whole, I wonder our country people don't all go
mad. They do go mad, a great many of them,
and manage to get a little glimpse of society in the
insane asylums." Staniford ended his tirade with

laugh, in which he vented his humorous sense and
ftis fundamental pity of the conditions he had cari-
latured.

" But how," demanded Dunham, breaking rebell-
lously from the silence in which he had listened,
4 do you account for her good manner ? "

14 She probably was born with a genius for it
Some people are born w:th a genius for onn tiling

72 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

And some with a genius for another. I, for exam-
ple, am an artistic genius, forced to be an amatem
by the delusive possession of early wealth, and no^
burning with a creative instinct in the direction oi
the sheep or cattle business ; you have the gift of
universal optimism ; Lurella Blood has the geniut
of good society. Give that girl a winter among
nice people in Boston, and you would never know
that she was not born on Beacon Hill."

" Oh, I doubt that,'' said Dunham.

" You doubt it ? Pessimist ! "

" But you implied just now that she had no sen-
sibility," pursued Dunham.

" So I did I " cried Staniford, cheerfully. " Social
genius and sensibility are two very different things;
the cynic might contend they were incompatible,
" ut I won't insist so far. I dare say she may regret
:he natal spot ; most of us have a dumb, brutish
{7*— attachment to the cari luoyhi ; but if she knows
anything, she hates its surroundings, and must be
glad to get out into the world. I should like
mightily to know how the world strikes her, as far
as she 's gone. But I doubt if she 's one to betray
her own counsel in any way. She looks deep, Lu-
rella does." Staniford laughed again at the pain
•which his insistence upon the name brought intc
Dunham's face.

vin

AFTER dinner, nature avenged herself in th«
young men for their vigils of the night before, -when
they had stayed up so late, parting with frienda,
that they had found themselves early risers without
having been abed. They both slept so long that
Dunham, leaving Staniford to a still unfinished
nap, came on deck between five and six o'clock.

Lydia was there, wrapped against the freshening
breeze in a red knit shawl, and seated on a stool in
the waist of the ship, in the Evangeline attitude,
and with the wistful, Evangeline look in her face,
as she gazed out over the far-weltering sea-line,
from which all trace of the shore had vanished.
She seemed to the young man very interesting, and
he approached her with that kindness for all other
women in his heart which the lover feels in absence
from his beloved, and with a formless sense that
some retribution was due her from him for the
roughness with which Staniford had surmised her
natural history. Women had always been dear and
•acred to him ; he liked, beyond most young men
to be with them ; he was forever calling upon them,
getting introduced to them, waiting upon them, in-
renting little services for them, Corresponding with
ihem, and wearing himself out in their interest. I*

74 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

is said that women do not value men of this sort sc
much as men of some other sorts. It was long, at
any rate, before Dunham — whom people alwayi
called Charley Dunham — found the woman who
liiought him more lovely than every other woman
pronounced him ; and naturally Miss Hibbard was
the most exacting of her sex. She required all
those offices which Dunham delighted to render
and many besides : being an invalid, she needed de-
votion. She had refused Dunham before going out
to Europe with her mother, and she had written to
take him back after she got there. He was now on
his way to join her in Dresden, where he hoped
that he might marry her, and be perfectly sacrificed
to her ailments. She only lacked poverty in order
to be thoroughly displeasing to most men ; but
Dunham had no misgiving save in regard to her
money ; he wished she had no money.

" A good deal more motion, is n't there ? " he
said to Lydia, smiling sunnily as he spoke, and
holding his hat with one hand. " Do you find it
unpleasant ? "

" No," she answered, " not at all. I like it."
" Oh, there is n't enough swell to make it uncom-
fortable, yet," asserted Dunham, looking about to
lee if there were not something he could do for her,
* And you may turn out a good sailor. Were yon
•ver at sea before ? "

" No ; this is the first time I was ever on a ship.'
" Is it possible ! " cried DuiiUam ; he waa now

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 75

fairly at sea for the first time himself, though by
virtue of his European associations he seemed to
have made many voyages. It appeared to him tiut
if there was nothing else he could do for Lydia, it
was his duty to talk to her. He found another
•tool, and drew it up within easier conversational
distance. " Then you 've never been out of sight
of land before ? "

44 No," said Lydia.

44 That 's very curious — I beg your pardon , I
mean you must find it a great novelty."

" Yes, it 's very strange," said the girl, seriously.
14 It looks like the Flood. It seems as if all the
rest of the world was drowned."

Dunham glanced round the vast horizon. " It if
like the Flood. And it has that quality, which
I 've often noticed in sublime things, of seeming to
be for this occasion only."

44 Yes ? " said Lydia.

44 Why, don't you know ? It seems as if it must
be like a fine sunset, and would pass in a few min-
utes. Perhaps we feel that we can't endure sub-
limity long, and want it to pass.

" I could look at it forever," replied Lydia.

Dunham turned to see if this were young-lady-
iah rapture, but perceived that she was affecting
nothing. He liked seriousness, for he was, with a
great deal of affectation for social purposes, a very
wncere person. His heart warmed more and more
ID the lonely girl ; to be talking tc ner seemed,

76 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

after all, to be doing very little for hei, and h«
longed to he of service. " Have you explored our
little wooden world, yet ? " he asked, after a pause,

Lydia paused too. " The ship ? " she asked
presently. " No; I 've only been in the cabin, and
here ; and this morning," she added, consciea-
tiously, "• Thomas showed me the cook's galley, --
fche kitchen."

" You 've seen more than I have," said Dunham.
*' Would n't you like to go forward, to the bow,
and see how it looks there ? "

" Yes, thank you," answered Lydia, " I would."

She tottered a little in gaining her feet, and tho
wind drifted her slightness a step or two aside.
" Won't you take my arm, perhaps ? " suggested
Dunham.

" Thank you," said Lydia, " I think I can get
along." But after a fev paces, a lurch of the ship
flung her against Dunham's side ; he caught her
hand, and passed it through his arm without protest
from her.

" Is n't it grand ? " he asked triumphantly, aa
they stood at the prow, and rose and sank with the
vessel's careering plunges. It was no gale, but only
a fair wind ; the water foamed along the ship's
sides, and, as her bows descended, shot forward ID
hissing jeta of spray ; away on every hand flocked
the white caps. " You had better keep my arm,
fcere." Lydia did so, resting her disengaged hand
on the bulwarks, as she bent over a little on thai

THE LADY OF THE AKOOSTOOK. 77

•ide to watch the rush of the sea. "It really seem*
as if there were more of a view here."

" It does, somehow," admitted Lydia."

" Look back at the ship's sails," said Dunham.
The swell and press of the white canvas seemed
like the clouds of heaven swooping down upon
them from all the airy heights. The sweet wind
beat in their faces, and they laughed in sympathy,
as they fronted it. " Perhaps the motion is a little
too strong for you here ? " he asked.

" Oh, not at all ! " cried the girl.

He had done something for her by bringing her
here, and he hoped to do something more by taking
her away. He was discomfited, for he was at a loss
what other attention to offer. Just at that moment
a sound made itself heard above the whistling of
the cordage and the wash of the sea, which caused
Lydia to start and look round.

" Did n't you think," she asked, " that you heard
hens ? "

"Why, yes," said Dunham. "What could it
have been ? Let us investigate."

He led the way back past the forecastle and the
cook's galley, and there, in dangerous proximity to
the pots and frying pans, they found a coop with
Home dozen querulous and meditative fowl in it.

44 1 heard them this morning," said Lydia.
'* They seemed to wake me with their crowing, and
( thought — I was at home \ "

"I 'm very sorry," said Dunham, sy in pathetically

8 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

He wished Stamford were there to take shame to
himself for denying sensibility to this girl.

The cook, smoking a pipe at the door of his gal-
ley, said, " Dey won't trouble you much, miss. Dey
don't gen'ly last us long, and I '11 kill de rooatew
Int."

" Oh, come, now ! " protested Dunham. "
would n't say that ! " The cook and Lydia stared
at him in equal surprise.

" Well," answered the cook, "I '11 kill the hen«
first, den. It don't make any difference to me
which I kill. I dunno but de hens is tenderer."
He smoked in a bland indifference.

" Oh, hold on ! " exclaimed Dunham, in repeti-
tion of his helpless protest.

Lydia stooped down to make closei acquaintance
with the devoted birds. They huddled themselves
away from her in one corner of their prison, and
talked together in low tones of grave mistrust.
" Poor things ! " she said. As a country girl, used
to the practical ends of poultry, she knew as well
as the cook that it was the fit and simple destiny ol
chickens to be eaten, sooner or later ; and it must
have been less in commiseration of their fate than
in self-pity and regret for the scenes they recalled
that she sighed. The hens that burrowed yester-
day under the lilacs in the door-yard ; the cock that
her aunt so often drove, insulted and exclamatory
*t the head of his harem, out of forbidden garden
bounds ; the social groups that scratched and de»

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 79

canted lazily about the wide, sunny barn doors ; the
anxious companies seeking their favorite perches,
with alarming outcries, in the dusk of summer
evenings ; the sentinels answering each other from
farm to farm before winter dawns, when all the
hills were drowned in snow, were of kindred with
these hapless prisoners.

Dunham was touched at Lydia's compassion.
" Would you like — would you like to feed them ? "
he asked by a happy inspiration. He turned to the
cook, with his gentle politeness : " There 's no ob-
jection to our feeding them, I suppose ? "

" Laws, no ! " said the cook. " Fats 'em up."
He went inside, and reappeared with a pan full of
scraps of meat and crusts of bread.

" Oh, I say I " cried Dunham. " Have n't you
got some grain, you know, of some sort; some seeds,
don't you know ? "

" They will like this," said Lydia, while the cook
stared in perplexity. She took the pan, and open-
ing the little door of the coop flung the provision
inside. But the fowls were either too depressed in
spirit to eat anything, or they were not hungry;
they remained in their corner, and merely fell silent,
as if a new suspicion had been roused in their un-
happy breasts.

" Dey '11 come to it," observed the cook.

Dunham felt far from content, and regarded the
poultry with silent disappointment. " Are you fond
of pets ? " he asked, after a while.

80 THE LA»T OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" Yes, I used to have pet chickens when I was a
little thing."

"You ought to adopt one of these," suggested
Dunham. " That white one is a pretty creature."

" Yes," said Lydia. " He looks as if he were
Leghorn. Leghorn breed," she added, in reply txj
Dunham's look of inquiry. " He 's a beauty."

" Let me get him out for you a moment ! " cried
the young man, in his amiable zeal. Before Lydia
could protest, or the cook interfere, he had opened
tlw coop-door and plunged his arm into the tumult
which his manoeuvre created within. He secured
the cockerel, and drawing it forth was about to
offer it to Lydia, when in its struggles to escape it
drove one of its spurs into his hand. Dunham sud-
denly released it ; and then ensued a wild cbase
for its recapture, up and down the ship, in which it
had every advantage of the young man. At last it
sprang upon the rail ; he put out his hand to seize
it, when it rose with a desperate screech, and flew
far out over the sea. They watched the suicide till
it sank exhausted into a distant white-cap.

" Dat 's gone," said the cook, philosophically.
Dunham looked round. Half the ship's company,
ilarmed by his steeple-chase over the deck, were
there, silently agrin.

Lydia did not laugh. When he asked, ptill with
bis habitual sweetness, but entirely at random,
* Shall we — ah — go below ? " she did not answei
iefinitely, and did not go. At the same time <th«

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 81

teased to be so timidly intangible and aloof in man-
ner. She began to talk to Dunham, instead of let-
ting him talk to her ; she asked him questions, and
listened with deference to what he said on such mat-
ters as the probable length of the voyage and the
sort of weather they were likely to have. She did
not take note of his keeping his handkerchief wound
round his hand, nor of his attempts to recur to the
subject of his mortifying adventure. When they
were again quite alone, the cook's respect having
been won back through his ethnic susceptibility
to silver, she remembered that she must go to her
room.

" In other words," said Stamford, after Dunham
had reported the whole case to him, " she treated
your hurt vanity as if you had been her pet school-
boy. She lured you away from yourself, and got
you to talking and thinking of other things. Lu-
rella is deep, I tell you. What consummate tacti-
cians the least of women are! It 's a pity that they
have to work so often in such dull material as men ,
they ought always to have women to operate on.
The youngest of them has more wisdom in human
nature than the sages of our sex. I must say, Lu-
rella is magnanimous, too. She might have taken
her revenge on you for pitying her yesterday when
•he sat in that warehouse door on the wharf. It
was rather fine in Lurella not to do it. What did
ihe say, Dunham? What did she talk about? Did
*he want to know ? "

82 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" No I " shouted Dunham. " She talked verj
well, like any young lady."

" Oh, all young ladies talk well, of course. Bat
wh»t did this one say ? What did she do, except
Hiffer a visible pang of homesickness at the sight ol
unattainable poultry ? Come, you have represented
the interview with Miss Blood as one of great brill-
iancy."

" I have n't," said Dunham. " I have done noth-
ing of the kind. Her talk was like any pleasant
talk ; it was refined and simple, and — unobtru-
sive."

" Taat is, it was in no way remarkable," observed
Staniford, with a laugh. " I expected something
better of Lurella ; I expected something salient.
Well, never mind. She 's behaved well by you,
seeing what a goose you had made of yourself.
She behaved like a lady, and I 've noticed that she
eats with her fork. It often happens in the country
that you find the women practicing some of the arts
of civilization, while their men folk are still sunk in
barbaric uses. Lurella, I see, is a social creature ;
Bhe was born for society, as you were, and I suppose
you will be thrown a good deal together. We 're
all likely to be associated rather familiarly, under
the circumstances. But I wish you would note
down in your mind some points of her conversation,
, 'm really curious to know what a girl of her tradi-
tions thinks about the world when she first sees it.
Her mind must be in most respects an unbroken

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 88

irilderness. She 's had schooling, of course, and she
knows her grammar and algebra ; but she can't
have had any cultivation. If she were of an earaer
generation, one would expect to find something bib-
lical in her ; but you can't count upon a Puritanic
Culture now among our country folks."

" If you are so curious," said Dunham, u why
Jon't you study her mind, yourself ? "

" No, no, that would n't do," Staniford answered.
** The light of your innocence upon hers is inval-
irtble. I can understand her better through you.
leu must go on. I will undertake to make your
peace with Miss Hibbard."

The young men talked as they walked the deck
and smoked in the starlight They were wakeful
after their long nap in the afternoon, and they
walked and talked late, with the silences that old
friends can permit themselves. Staniford recurred
to his loss of money and his Western projects,
which took more definite form now that he had
placed so much distance between himself and their
fulfillment. With half a year in Italy before him,
he decided upon a cattle-range in Colorado. Then,
** 1 should like to know," be said, after one of the
pauses, " how two young men of our form strike
that girl's fancy. I have n't any personal curiosity
frbout her impressions, but I should like to know,
M an observer of the human race. If my conject
ares are right, she '9 never met people of our sort

84 THE IADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

•* What sort of men has she been associated
with ? " asked Dunham.

" Well, 1 'm riot quite prepared to say. I take it
that it is n't exactly the hobbledehoy sort. She haa
probably looked high, — as far up as the clerk in
fche store. He has taken her to drive in a buggy
Saturday afternoons, when he put on his ready-
made suit, — and looked very well in it, too ; and
they 've been at picnics together. Or may be, as
she 's in the school-teaching line, she 's taken some
high-browed, hollow-cheeked high-school principal
for her ideal. Or it is possible that she has never
hud attention from any one. That is apt to happen
to self-respectful girls in rural communities, and their
beauty doesn't save them. Fellows, as they call
themselves, like girls that have what they call go,
that make up to them. Lurella does n't seem of
chat kind ; and I should not be surprised if you were
the first gentleman who had ever offered her his
arm. I wonder what she thought of you. She 'a
acquainted by sight with the ordinary summer
boarder of North America; they penetrate every-
where, now ; but I doubt if she 's talked with thei^
much if at all. She must be ignorant of our world
beyond anything we can imagine."

" Hut how do you account for her being so wei
dressed ? "

" Oh, that 'a instinct. You find it everywhere
In every little villnge there is some girl who knowi
low to out-preen all the others. I wonder," added

THE LADY OF THE AKOOSTOOK. 8ft

Staniford, in a more deeply musing tone, "if she
kept from laughing at you out of good feeling, or
if she was merely overawed by your splendor."

" She did n't laugh," Dunham answered, " be-
cause she saw that it would have added to my an-
noyance. My splendor had nothing to do with it."

" Oh, don't underrate your splendor, my dear
fellow ! " cried Staniford, with a caressing ridicule
that he often used with Dunham. " Of course, /
know what a simple and humble fellow you are,
but you Ve no idea how that exterior of yours
mitrht impose upon the agricultural imagination ,
it has its effect upon me, in my pastoral moods."
Dunham made a gesture of protest, and Staniford
went on : " Country people have queer ideas of us,
sometimes. Possibly Lurella was afraid of you
Think of that, Dunham, — having a woman afraid
of you, for once in your life ! Well, hurry up your
acquaintance with her, Dunham, or I shall wear
myself out in mere speculative analysis. I have n't
the aplomb for studying the sensibilities of a young
lady, and catching chickens for her, so as to pro-
duce a novel play of emotions. I thought this voy-
age was going to be a season of mental quiet, but
having a young lady on board seems to forbid that
Kind of repose. I should n't mind a half dozen,
but one is altogether too many. Poor little thing !
» say, Dunham ! There's something rather pretty
*bout having her with us, after all, is n't there ? It
jives a certain distinction to our voyage. We shalJ

56 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

not degenerate. We shall shave every day, wind
and weather permitting, and wear our best things."
They talked of other matters, and again Staniford
recurred to Lydia : " If she has any regrets for her
mountain home, — though I don't see why she
should have, — I hope they have n't kept her awake.
My far-away cot on the plains is not going to inter-
fere with my slumbers."

Staniford stepped to the ship's side, and flung the
end of his cigarette overboard ; it struck a red 8i>ark
amidst the lurid phosphorescence of the ubbles thai
•wept backward from the vessel's prov

IX

THE weather held fine. The sun shone, and th«
friendly winds blew out of a cloudless heaven ; by
night the moon ruled a firmament powdered with
itars of multitudinous splendor. The condition*
inspired Dunham with a restless fertility of inven-
tion in Lydia's behalf. He had heard of the game
of shuffle-board, that blind and dumb croquet, with
which the jaded passengers on the steamers appease
their terrible leisure, and with the help of the ship'a
carpenter he organized this pastime, and played it
with her hour after hour, while Staniford looked on
and smoked in grave observance, and Hicks lurked
at a distance, till Dunham felt it on his kind heart
and tender conscience to invite him to a share in
the diversion. As his nerves recovered their tone,
Hicks showed himself a man of some qualities that
Staniford would have liked in another man : he was
tmiable, and he was droll, though apt to turn sulky
if Staniford addressed him, which did not ofte»
happen. He knew more than Dunham of shuffle-
ix-ard, as well as of tossing rings of rope over a peg
&et up a certain space off in the deck, — a game
•rhich they eagerly took up in the afternoon, after
pushing about the flat wooden disks all the morn-
*ig. Most of the talk at the table was of the vary

S8 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

ing fortunes of the players ; and the yarn of th€
§tory-teller in the forecastle remained half-spun,
while the sailors off watch gathered to look on, and
to bet upon Lydia's skill. It puzzled Staniford to
make out whether she felt any strangeness in the
actuation, which she accepted with so much appar-
ent serenity. Sometimes, ill his frequently recur-
ring talks with Dunham, he questioned whether
their delicate precautions for saving her feelings
were not perhaps thrown away upon a young pur-
son who played shuffle-board and ring- toss on the
deck of the Aroostook with as much self-possession
as she would have played croquet on her native
turf at South Bradfield.

" Their ideal of propriety up country is very
different from ours," he said, beginning one of his
long comments. " I don't say that it concerns the
conscience more than ours does ; but they think
evil of different things. We 're getting European-
ized, — I don't mean you, Dunham ; in spite of
your endeavors you will always remain one of the
most hopelessly American of our species, — and we
have our little borrowed anxieties about the free
association of young people. They have none
whatever ; though they are apt to look suspiciously
upon married people's friendships with other peo-
ple's wives and husbands. It 's quite likely thai
Lurella, with the traditions of her queer world, haa
not imagined anything anomalous in her position.
She may realize certain inconveniences. But she

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 89

must see great advantages in it. Poor girl !
ihe must be rioting on the united devotion of cabin
and forecastle, after the scanty gallantries of a hill
town peopled by elderly unmarried women ! I 'm
glad of it, for her sake. I wonder which she
really prizes most : your ornate attentions, ?r the
uncouth homage of those sailors, who are always
running to fetch her rings and blocks when she
makes a wild shot. I believe I don't care and
should x 't disapprove of her preference, •whichever
it was. ' Stamford frowned before he added: "But
I object lo Hicks and his drolleries. It's impossi-
ble for that little wretch to think reverently i-f a
young girl; it's shocking to see her treating him
as if he wore a gentleman." Hicks's behavior
really gave no grounds for reproach ; and it was
only his moral mechanism, as Staniford called the
character he constructed for him, which he could
blame ; nevertheless, the thought of him gave an
oblique cast to Staniford 's reflections, which he cut
ihort by saying, " This sort of worship is every
woman's due in girlhood ; but I suppose a fortnight
of it will make her a pert and silly coquette. What
iocs she say to your literature, Dunham? "

Dunham had already begun to lend Lydia books,
— his own and Stamford's, — in which he read
fJoud to her, and chose passages for her admiration ;
out he was obliged to report that she had rather a
passive taste in literature. She seemed to like what
fte said was good, but not to like it very much,

90 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

»r to care greatly for reading; or else she had nevei
had the habit of talking books. He suggested thu
to Staniford, who at once philosophized it.

"Why, I rather like that, you know. We aU
read in such a literary way, now ; we don't read
§imply for the joy or profit of it ; we expect to talk
about it, and say how it is this and that ; and I 'va
no doubt that we 're sub-consciously harassed, all
the time, with an automatic process of criticism.
Now Lurella, I fancy, reads with the sense of the
days when people read in private, and not in pub-
lic, as we do. She believes that your serious books
are all true ; and she knows that my novels are all
lies — that 's what some excellent Christians would
call the fiction even of George Eliot or of Haw-
thorne , she would be ashamed to discuss the lives
and loves of heroes and heroines who never existed.
I think that 's first-rate. She must wonder at your
distempered interest in them. If one could get at
it, I suppose the fresh wholesomeness of Lurella's
mind would be something delicious, — a quality
like spring water."

He was one of those men who cannot rest in re-
gard to people they meet till they have made some
effort to formulate them. He liked to ticket them
off; but when he could not classify them, he re-
mained content with his mere study of them. His
habit was one that does not promote sympathy with
Dne's fellow creatures. He confessed even that it
disposed him to wish for their less acquaintance

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 91

when once he had got them generalized ; they be-
came then collected specimens. Yet, for the time
being, his curiosity in them gave him a specious
air of sociability. He lamented the insincerity
which this involved, but he could not help it. The
next novelty in character was as irresistible as the
last ; he sat down before it till it yielded its moan-
ing, or suggested to him some analogy by which ha
could interpret it.

With this passion for the arrangement and dis-
tribution of his neighbors, it was not long before he
had placed most of the people on board in what he
called the psychology of the ship. He did not care
that they should fit exactly in their order. He
rather preferred that they should have idiosyncra-
sies which differentiated them from their species,
and he enjoyed Lydia's being a little indifferent
about books for this and for other reasons. " If
she were literary, she would be like those vulgar
little persons of genius in the magazine stories.
She would have read all sorts of impossible things
up in her village. She would have been discovered
by some aesthetic summer boarder, who had hap-
pened to identify her with the gifted Daisy Dawn,
and she would be going out on the aesthetic' s money
for the further expansion of her spirit in Europe.
Somebody would be obliged to fall in love with her,
»nd she would sacrifice her career for a man who
was her inferior, as we should be subtly given to
•nderstaud at the close. I think it 'a going to b«

92 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

its distinguished by and by not to like books as ii
is not to write them. Lurella is a prophetic soul ;
fcnd if there 's anything comforting about her, it '•
her being so merely and stupidly pretty."

" She is not merely and stupidly pretty I " re-
torted Dunham. " She never does herself justice
when you are by. She can talk very well, and 01
tome subjects she thinks strongly."

" Oh, I 'm sorry for that I " said Staniford.
14 But call me some time when she 's doing herself
justice."

u I don't mean that she 's like the women wo
know. She does n't say witty things, and she
has n't their responsive quickness ; but her ideas
are her own, no matter how old they are ; and
what she says she seems to be saying for the first
time, and as if it had never been thought out be-
fore."

" That is what I have been contending for," said
Staniford ; " that is what I meant by spring water.
It is that thrilling freshness which charms me iu
Lurella." He laughed. " Have you converted her
to your spectacular faith, yet? " Dunham blushed.
"You have tried," continued t Staniford. "Tell
tne about it I "

" I will not talk with you on such matters," said
Dunham, " till you know how to treat serious
things seriously."

" I shall know how when I realize that they
ire serious with you. Well, I don't object to •

THE LADy OF THE AJROOSTOOK. 93

woman's thinking strongly on religious subjects .
t 'a the only safe ground for her strong thinking,
and even there she had better feel strongly. Did
you succeed in convincing her that Archbishop
Laud was a saint incompris, and the good King
Charles a blessed martyr."

Duuham did not answer till he had choked down
gome natural resentment. He had, several years
earlier, forsaken the pale Unitarian worship of his
family, because, Staniford always said, he had such
a feeling for color, and had adopted an extreme tint
of ritualism. It was rumored at one time, before
his engagement to Miss Hibbaid, that he was go-
ing to unite with a celibate brotherhood ; he went
regularly into retreat at certain seasons, to the
vast entertainment of his friend ; and, within the
bounds of good taste, he was a zealous propagan-
dist of his faith, of which he had the practical vir-
tues in high degree. " I hope," he said presently,
" that I Know how to respect convictions, even
of those adhering to the Church in Error."

Staniford laughed again. " I see you have not
converted Lurella. Well, I like that in her, too.
I wish I could have the arguments, pro and con.
It would have been amusing. I suppose," he pon-
dered aloud, " that she is a Calvinist of the leepes
dye, and would regard me as a lost spirit for being
outside of her church. She would look down upon
me fr^m one height, as I look down upon her from
another. And really, as tar as personal satisfao

94 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

Hon n superiority goes, she might have the ad
vantage of me. That 's very curious, very inter
eeting."

As the first week wore away, the wonted inci
dents of a sea voyage lent their variety to the lift
on board. One day the ship ran into a school oi
whales, which remained heavily thumping and loll-
ing about in her course, and blowing jets of wate?
into the air, like so many breaks in garden hose,
Staniford suggested. At another time some flying-
fish came on board. The sailors caught a dolphin,
and they oromised a shark, by and by. All these
things were turned to account for the young girl'a
amusement, as if they had happened for her. The
dolphin died that she might wonder and pity his
beautiful death;, the cook fried her some of the
flying-fish ; some one was on the lookout to detect
even porpoises for her. A sail in the offing won
the discoverer envy when he pointed it out to her ;
a steamer, celebrity. The captain ran a point out
of his course to speak to a vessel, that she might
be able to tell what speaking a ship at sea was
like.

At table the stores which the young men had
laid in for private use became common luxuries,
and she fared sumptuously every day upon dainties
which she supposed were supplied by the ship, —
delicate jellies and canned meats and syruped fruits ;
»nd, if she wondered at anything, she must havfi
wondered at the scrupulous abstinence with which

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOCK. 95

Captain Jenness, seconded by Mr. Watterson, re-
fused the luxuries which his bounty provided them,
and at the constancy with which Stamford declined
some of these dishes, and Hicks declined others.
Shortly after the latter began more distinctly to b«
tolerated, he appeared one day on deck with a
iteamer-chair in his hand, and offered it to Lyd«
ia's use, where she sat on a stool by the bulwark.
After that, as she reclined in this chair, wrapped
in her red shawl, and provided with a book or
Bom*, sort of becoming handiwork, she was even
more picturesquely than before the centre about
which the ship's pride and chivalrous sentiment re-
volved. They were Americans, and they knew how
to worship a woman.

Staniford did not seek occasions to please and
amuse her, as the others did. When they met, as
they must, three times a day, at table, he took his
part in the talk, and now and then addressed her
H perfunctory civility. He imagined that she dis-
liked him, and he interested himself in imagining
the ignorant grounds of her dislike. " A woman,"
he said, " must always dislike some one in com-
pany ; it 's usually another woman ; as there 's none
on board, I accept her enmity with meekness."
Dunham wished to persuade him that he was mis-
taken. " Don't try to comfort me, Dunham," he
replied. " I find a pleasure in being detested which
ta inconceivable to your amiable bosom."

Dunham turned to go below, from where they

99 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

•tood at the head of the cabin stairs. Staniford
looked round, and saw Lydia, whom they had kept
from coming up; she must have heard him. He
took his 3igar from his mouth, and caught up a
irtool, which he placed near the ship's side, where
Lydia usually sat, and without waiting for her con-
currence got a stool for himself, and sat down with
her.

"Well, Miss Blood," he said, "it's Saturday
afternoon at last, and we 're at the end of our first
week. Has it seemed very long to you ? "

Lydia's color was bright with consciousness, but
the glance she gave Stamford showed him looking
tranquilly and honestly at her. " Yes," she said,
" it has seemed long."

" That 's merely the strangeness of everything.
There 's nothing like local familiarity to make the
time pass, — except monotony ; and one gets both
at sea. Next week will go faster than thie, and
we shall all be at Trieste before we know it. Of
course we shall have a storm or two, and that wiK
retard us in fact as well as fancy. But you would
n't ft el that you 'd been at sea if you had n't had a
itorm."

He knew that his tone was patronizing, but he
Lad theorized the girl so much with a certain slight
. it bis mind that he was not able at once to get thu
fcone which he usually took towards women. This
might not, indeed, have pleased some women any
oetter than patronage : it mocked while it caressed

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 97

ill their little pretenses and artificialities ; he ad-
dressed them as if they must be in the joke o!
themselves, and did not expect to be taken seri-
ously. At the same time he liked them greatly,
and would not on any account have had the silliest
of them different from what she was. He did not
leek them as Dunham did ; their society was not a
matter of life or death with him ; but he had an
elder-brotherly kindness for the whole sex.

Lydia waited awhile for him to say something
more, but he added nothing, and she observed, with
a furtive look : " I presume you 've seen some very
severe storms at sea."

" No," Staniford answered, " I have n't. I 'v*
been over several times, but I 've never seen any-
thing alarming. I 've experienced the ordinary
seasickening tempestuousness."

" Have you — have you ever been in Italy ? "
asked Lydia, after another pause.

" Yes," he said, " twice ; I 'm very fond of Italy."
He spoke of it in a familiar tone that might well
have been discouraging to one of her total unac-
quaintance with it. Presently he added of his own
motion, looking at her with his interest in her as a
curious study, " You 're going to Venice, I think
Mr. Dunham told me."

" Yes," said Lydia.

" Well, I think it 's rather a pity that you should
ft :*; arrive there directly, without the interposition
>f Trieste." He scanned her yet more closely, bo*

98 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

with a sort of absence in his look, as if he addressed
come ideal of her.

" Why ? " asked Lydia, apparently pushed to
some self-assertion by this way of being looked ard
talked at.

"It's the strangest place in the •world," said
Staniford ; and then he mused again. " But I sup
pose " — He did not go on, and the word fell again
to Lydia.

" I 'm going to visit my aunt, who is staying
there. She was where I live, last summer, and she
told us about it. But I could n't seem to under-
stand it."

" No one can understand it, without seeing it."

" I 've read some descriptions of it," Lydia vent-
pred.

" They 're of no use, — the books."

" Is Trieste a strange place, too ? "

" It 's strange, as a hundred other places are, —
and it 's picturesque ; but there 's only one Ven-
•oe."

" I 'm afraid sometimes," she faltered, as if hia
aanner in regard to this peculiar place had been
hopelessly exclusive, " that it will be almost too
itrange."

" Oh, that 's another matter," said Staniford.
'I confess I should be rather curious to know
whether you liked Venice. I like it, but I can im-
*gme myself sympathizing with people who de-
'ested it, — if the^ said so. Let me see what wiL

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 9»

give you some idea of it. Do you know Boa ton
well ? "

" No ; I Ve only been there twice," Lydia ao
knowledged.

" Then you Ve never seen the Back Bay by
night, from the Long Bridge. Well, let me see" —

" I 'm afraid," interposed Lydia, " that I 've n<rt
been about enough for you to give me an idea from
other places. We always go to Greenfield to do
our trading ; and I Ve been to Keene and Spring-
field a good many times."

" I 'm sorry to say I have n't," said Staniford.
"But I'll tell you: Venice looks like an inun-
dated town. If you could imagine those sunset
clouds yonder turned marble, you would have Ven-
ice as she is at sunset. You must first think of the
sea when you try to realize the place. If you don't
find the sea too strange, you won't find Venice so."

" I wish it would ever seem half as home-like ! "
cried the girl.

"Then you find the ship — I'm glad you find
the ship — home-like," said Staniford, tentatively.

" Oh, yes ; everything is so convenient and pleas-
ant. It seems sometimes as if I had always lived
here."

" Well, that 's very nice," assented Staniford,
rather blankly. " Some people feel a little queej
at sea — in the beginning. And you have n't —
at all ? " He could not help this leading question
jet he knew its meanness, and felt remorse for it.

LOC THE LADY OF THE AKOOSTOOK.

" Oh, / did, at first," responded the girl, bu<
went no farther ; and Staniford was glad of it.
After all, why should he care to know what was in
her mind?

" Captain Jenness," he merely said, " understand*
making people at home."

" Oh, yes, indeed," assented Lydia. " And Mr.
Watterson is very agreeable, and Mr. Mason. I
did n't suppose sailors were so. What soft, mild
voices they have I "

" That 's the speech of most of the Down East
coast people."

" Is it ? I like it better than our voices. Our
voices are so sharp and high, at home."

" It 's hard to believe that," said Staniford, with
a smile.

Lydia looked at him. " Oh, I was n't born in
South Bradfield. I was ten years old when I went
there to live."

" Where were you born, Miss Blood ? " he asked.

" In California. My father had gone out for hia
health, but he died there."

" Oh ! " said Staniford. He had a book in hia
aand, and he began to scribble a little sketch of
Lydia's pose, on a fly-leaf. She looked round and
•aw it. " You 've detected me," he said ; " I have n't
*ny right to keep your likeness, now. I must rnaka
you a present of this work of art, Miss Blood.'
Ele finished the sketch with some ironical flourishes
rod made as if to tear oat the leaf.

THE LADY DF THE AROOSTOOK. 101

•' Oh I " cried Lydia, simply, " you will sp >il the
book!"

" Then the book shall go with the picture, ii
you '11 let it," said Stamford.

"Do you mean to g've it to me?" she askea,
with surprise.

" That was my munificent intention. I want to
write your name in it. What's the initial of ytur
first name, Miss Hlood?"

" L, thank you," said Lydia.

Staniford gave a start. ** No ! " he exclaimed.
It seemed a fatality.

" My name is Lydia," persisted the girl. " What
letter should it begin with ? "

" Oh — oh, I knew Lydia began with an L,'r
Btamruered Staniford, " but I — I — I thought your
first name was " —

" What ? " asked Lydia sharply.

" I don't know. Lily," he answered guiltily.

"Lily Blood!" cried the girl. "Lydia is bad
enough ; but Lily Blood I They could n't have been
such fools ! "

" I beg your pardon. Of course not. I don't
know how I could have got the idea. It was one
of those impressions — hallucinations" — Staniford
found himself in an attitude of lying excuse towards
%he simple girl, over whom he had been lording it
ja. satirical fancy ever since he had seen her, and
meekly anxious that she should not be vexed with
um. He began to laugh at his predicament, and

102 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

ihe smiled at his mistake. " What is the date? '
he asked.

" The 15th," she said ; and he wrote under th«
•ketch, Lydia Blood. Ship Aroostook, August 15,
1874, and handed it to her, with a bow surcharged
with gravity.

She took it, and regarded the picture withou
jomment.

" Ah ! " said Staniford, " I see that you know
how bad my sketch is. You sketch."

" No, I don't know how to draw," replied Lydia.

" You criticise."

" No."

" So glad," said Staniford. He began to like this.
A. young man must find pleasure in sitting alone
near a pretty young girl, and talking with her about
herself and himself, no matter how plain and dull
her speech is ; and Staniford, though he found Lydia
as blankly unresponsive as might be to the flatter-
ing irony of his habit, amused himself in realizing
that here suddenly he was almost upon the terms of
window-seat flirtation with a girl whom lately he
had treated with perfect indifference, and just now
with fatherly patronage. The situation had some-
thing more even than the usual window-seat advan-
tages ; it had qualities as of a common shipwreck, of
their being cast away on a desolate island together.
He felt more than ever that he must protect this
oelpless loveliness, since it had begun to please his
imagination. ** You don't criticise," he said. ** If

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 103

fchat because you are so amiable ? I 'm sure you
could, if you would."

" No," returned Lydia ; " I don't really know.
But I 've often wished I did know."

" Then you did n't teach drawing, in youi
•chool?"

"How did you know I had a school?" asked
Lydia quickly.

He disliked to confess his authority, because he
disliked the authority, but he said, " Mr. Hicks
told us."

" Mr. Hicks I " Lydia gave a little frown as of
instinctive displeasure, which gratified Staniford.

" Yes ; the cabin-boy told him. You see, we are
dreadful gossips on the Aroostook, — though there
are so few ladies " — It had slipped from him, but
it seemed to have no personal slant for Lydia.

" Oh, yes ; I told Thomas," she said. " No ;
it 's only a country school. Once I thought I
should go down to the State Normal School, and
itudy drawing there ; but I never did. Are you
— are you a painter, Mr. Staniford? "

He could not recollect that she had pronounced
His name before ; he thought it came very winningly
irorn her lips. " No, I 'm not a painter. I 'in not
anything." He hesitated ; then he added recklessly
* I'm a farmer."

"A farmer?" Lydia looked incredulous, but
grave.

44 Yes ; I 'm a horny-handed son of the soiL

104 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

['ma cattle-farmer ; I 'm a sheep-farmer ; I don't
know which. One day I 'm the one, and the next
day I 'm the other." Lydia looked mystified, and
Staniford continued : " I mean that I have no pro-
fession, and that sometimes I think of going into
farming out West."

" Yes ? " said Lydia.

" How should I like it ? Give me an opinion,
Miss Blood."

" Oh, I don't know," answered the girl.

" You would never have dreamt that I was a
farmer, would you ? "

" No, I should n't," said Lydia, honestly. " It '•
very hard work."

" And I don't look fond of hard work ? "

" I did n't say that."

" And I 've no right to press you for your mean-
ing."

" What I meant was — I mean — Perhaps if you
had never tried it you did n't know what very hard
work it was. Some of the summer boarders used
to think our farmers had easy times."

" I never was a summer boarder of that descrip-
tion. I know that farming is hard work, and I 'm
going into it because I dislike it. What do you
think of that as a form of self-sacrifice? "

" I don't see why any one should sacrifice him-
lelf uselessly."

" You don't ? You have very little conception ol
warty rdom. Do you like teaching school ? "

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. ICfc

M No," said Lydia promptly.

"Why do you teach, then?" Stamford had
blundered. He knew why she taught, and he fel'
instantly that he had hurt her pride, more sensitive,
than that of a more sophisticated person, who
would have had no scruple in saying that she did
it because she was poor. He tried to retrieve him-
lelf. " Of course, I understand that school-teaching
is useful self-sacrifice." He trembled lest she
should invent some pretext for leaving him ; he
could not afford to be left at a disadvantage. " But
do you know, I would no more have taken you for a
teacher than you me for a farmer."

" Yes ? " said Lydia.

He could not tell whether she was appeased or
uot, and he rather feared not. " You don't ask
why. And I asked you why at once."

Lydia laughed. "Well, why?"

" Oh, that 's a secret. I '11 tell you one of the**
days." He had really no reason ; he said this to
gain time. He was always honest in his talk with
men, but not always with women.

" I suppose I look very young," said Lydia. *' I
used to be afraid of the big boys."

" If the boys were big enough," interposed Stan
'tford, " they must have been afraid of you."

Lydia said, as if she had not understood, " I had
aard work to get my certificate. But I was older
lhaa I looked."

M That is much better," leroarked Staniford,

106 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" than being younger than you look. I am twenty
eight, and people take me for thirty-four. I 'm a
prematurely middle-aged man. I wish you would
tell me, Miss Blood, a little about South Bradfield.
I 've been trying to make out whether I was ever
there. I tramped nearly everywhere when I was a
student. What sort of people are they there?"

" Oh, they are very nice people," said Lydia.

"Do you like them?"

"I never thought whether I did. They are
nearly all old. Their children have gone away ;
they don't seem to live ; they are just staying.
When I first came there I was a little girl. One
day I went into the grave-yard and counted ths
stones ; there were three times as many as there
were living persons in the village."

" I think I know the kind of place," said Staui-
ford. " I suppose you 're not very homesick ? "

" Not for the place," answered Lydia, evasively.

" Of course," Stamford hastened to add, " you
miss your own family circle." To this she made no
reply. It is the habit of people bred like her to
remain silent for want of some sort of formulated
tomment upon remarks to which they assent.

Staniford fell into a musing mood, which waa
without visible embarrassment to the young girl,
who must have been inured to much severer si-
cnoes in the society of South Bradfield. He re-
mained staring at her throughout his reverie, which
to fact related to her. He was thinking what sort

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOE. 107

tt an old maid she would have become if she had
remained in that village. He fancied elements of
hardness and sharpness in her which would hara
asserted themselves as the joyless years went on,
like the bony structure of her face as the softnesa
of youth left it. She was saved from that, what-
ever was to be her destiny in Italy. From South
Bradfield to Venice, — what a prodigious transi-
tion ! It seemed as if it must transfigure her.
" Miss Blood," he exclaimed, " I wish I could be
with you when you first see Venice ! "

" Yes ? " said Lydia.

Even the interrogative comment, with the rising
inflection, could not chill his enthusiasm. " It is
really the greatest sight in the world."

Lydia had apparently no comment to make on
this fact. She waited tranquilly a while before she
said, " My father used to talk about Italy to me
when I was little. He wanted to go. My mother
gaid afterwards — after she had come home with
me to South Bradfield — that she always believed
he would have lived if he had gone there. He had
consumption."

" Oh ! " said Staniford softly. Then he added,
with the tact of his sex, " Miss Blood, you must n't
take cold, sitting here with me. This wind ia
ihilly. Shall I go below and get you some more
wraps ? "

*• No, thank you," said Lydia ; " I believe I will
^o down, now."

108 THE LADY OF THE AKOOSTOOK.

She went below to her room, and then came out
into the cabin with some sewing at which she sat
and stitched by the lamp. The captain was writ-
ing in his log-book ; Dunham and Hicks were play-
ing checkers together. Stamford, from a corner of
a locker, looked musingly upon this curious family
circle. It was not the first time that its occupa-
tions had struck him oddly. Sometimes when they
were all there together, Dunham read aloud. Hieka
knew tricks of legerdemain which he played clev-
erly. The captain told some very good stories,
and led off in the laugh. Lydia always sewed and
listened. She did not seem to find herself strangely
placed, and her presence characterized all that vvaa
said and done with a charming innocence. As a
bit of life, it was as pretty as it was quaint.

" Really," Staniford said to Dunham, as they
turned in, that night, " she has domesticated us."

" Yes," assented Dunham with enthusiasm ;
" is n't she a nice girl ? "

" She 's intolerably passive. Or not passive,
either. She says what she thinks, but she does n't
leein to have thought of many things. Did she
ever tell you about her father ? "

" No," said Dunham.

" I mean about his dying of consumption ? "

" No, she never spoke of him to me. Was he " —

• Um. It appears that we have been upon term*
af confidence, then." Staniford paused, with one
boot in his hand. " I should never have though*
It"

THE LADY OP THE AROOSTOOK. 109

" What was her father ? " asked Dunham.

" Upon my word, I don't know. I did n't
to get beyond elemental statements of intimate fact
with her. He died in California, where she was
born ; and he always had a longing to go to Italy.
That was rather pretty."

" It 's very touching, I think."

"Yes, of course. We might fancy this about
Lurella : that she has a sort of piety in visiting the
scenes that her father wished to visit, and that —
Well, anything is predicable of a girl who says so
little and looks so much. She's certainly very
handsome ; and I 'm bound to say that her room
could not have been better than her company, so
hr."

THE dress that Lydia habitually wore wa« ot«*
which her aunt Maria studied from the costume of
& summer boarder, who had spent a preceding sum-
mer at the sea-shore, and who found her yaehtiug-
dress perfectly adapted to tramping over the South
Bradfield hills. Thus reverting to its original use
on shipboard, the costume looked far prettier on
Lydia than it had on the summer boarder from
whose unconscious person it had been plagiarized.
It was of the darkest blue flannel, and was fitly set
off with those bright ribbons at the throat which
women know how to dispose there according to
their complexions. One day the bow was scarlet,
and another crimson ; Staniford did not know which
was better, and disputed the point in vaiu with
Dunham. They all grew to have a taste in such
matters. Captain Jennesa praised her dress out-
right, and said that he should tell his girls about it.
Lydia, who had always supposed it was a walking
costume, remained discreetly silent when the young
men recognized its nautical character. She enjoyed
its success ; she made some little changes in the hat
•he wore with it, which met the approval of the
3abm family ; and she tranquilly kept her black
lilk in reserve for Sunday. She came out to break-
fast in it and it swept the iiairow spaces, aa &h«

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. Ill

emerged from her state-room, with 80 rich and deep
a murmur that every one looked up. She sustained
their united glance with something tenderly depre-
catory and appealingly conscious in her manner,
much as a very sensitive girl in some new finery
meets the eyes of her brothers when she does not
know whether to cry or laugh at what they will say.
Thomas almost dropped a plate. " Goodness ! " be
said, helplessly expressing the public sentiment in
regard to a garment of which he alone had been in
the secret. No doubt it passed his fondest dreams
of its splendor ; it fitted her as the sheath of the
flower fits the flower.

Captain Jenness looked hard at her, but waited
a decent season after saying grace before offering
his compliment, which he did in drawing the carv-
ing-knife slowly across the steel. "Well, Miss
Blood, that 's right ! " Lydia blushed richly, and
the young men made their obeisances across the
table.

The flushes and pallors chased each other over
her face, and the sight of her pleasure in being
beautiful charmed Staniford. "If she were used to
worship she would have taken our adoration more
wrogantly," he said to his friend when they went
on desk after breakfast. " I can place her ; but
Dne's circumstance does n't always account for one
in America, and I can't make out yet whether she '•
*ver been praised for being pretty. Some of our
kill-country people would have felt like hushing up

112 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTCXV

her beauty, as almost sinful, and some would have
gone down before it like Greeks. I can't tell
whether she knows it all or not ; but if you sup-
pose her unconscious till now, it's pathetic. And
black silks must be too rare in her life not to be
celebrated by a high tumult of inner satisfaction.
I 'm glad we bowed down to the new dress."

" Yes," assented Dunham, with an uneasy ab-
sence; "but — Staniford, I should like to propose
to Captain Jenness our having service this morning.
It is the eleventh Sunday after " —

" Ah, yes ! " said Staniford. " It is Sunday,
is n't it ? I thought we had breakfast rather later
than usual. All over the Christian vorld, on land
and sea, there is this abstruse relation between a
late breakfast and religious observances."

Dunham looked troubled. "I wish you wouldn't
talk that way, Staniford, and I hope you won't say
anything " —

" To interfere with your proposition ? My dear
fellow, I am at least a gentleman."

" I beg your pardon," said Dunham, gratefully.

Staniford even went himself to the captain with
Dunham's wish ; it is true the latter assumed the
more disagreeable part of proposing the matter to
Hicks, who gave a humorous assent, as one might
to a joke of doubtful feasibility.

Dunham gratified both his love for social man
jgement and his zeal for his church in this organi
lation of worship ; and when all hands were called

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 118

aft, and stood round in decorous silence, he read the
lesson for the day, and conducted the service with a
gravity astonishing to the sailors, who had taken
him for a mere dandy. Staniford bore his part in
the responses from the same prayer-book with Cap-
tain Jenness, who kept up a devout, inarticulate
nnder-growl, and came out strong on particular
words when he got his bearings through his spec-
tacles. Hicks and the first officer silently shared
another prayer-book, and Lydia offered half hers to
Mr. Mason.

When the hymn was given out, she waited while
an experimental search for the tune took place
among the rest. They were about to abandon the
attempt, when she lifted her voice and began to
sing. She sang as she did in the meeting-house at
South Bradfield, and her voice seemed to fill all the
hollow height and distance ; it rang far off like a
mermaid's singing, on high like an angel's; it
called with the same deep appeal to sense and soul
alike. The sailors stood rapt ; Dunham kept up a
ihow of singing for the church's sake. The others
made no pretense of looking at the words ; they
looked at her, and she began to falter, hearing her-
self alone. Then Staniford struck in again wildly,
and the sea- voices lent their powerful discord, while
the girl's contralto thrilled through all.

" Well, Miss Blood," said the captain, when thf
•ervice had ended in that subordination of the spirit
tai to the artistic interest which marks the prooeM

114 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

Mid the close of so much public worship in ooi
day, "you Ve given us a surprise. I guess we shall
keep you pretty busy with our calls for music, afte*
this."

44 She is a genius ! " observed Staniford at hii
first opportunity with Dunham. "I knew there
must be something the matter. Of course she '§
going out to school her voice ; and she has n't
strained it in idle babble about her own affairs ! I
must say that Lu — Miss Blood's power of holding
her tongue commands my homage. Was it her lit-
tle coup to wait till we got into that hopeless hobble
before she struck in ? "

44 Coup ? For shame, Staniford I Coup at such
a time 1 "

44 Well, well I I don't say so. But for the thea-
tre one can't begin practicing these effects too soon.
Really, that voice puts a new complexion on Miss
Blood. I have a theory to reconstruct. I have
been philosophizing her as a simple country girl.
I must begin on an operatic novice. I liked the
other better. It gave value to the black silk ; as a
ginger she '11 wear silk as habitually as a cocoon.
She will have to take some stage name ; translate
Blood into Italian. We shall know her hereafter
k& La Sanguinelli ; and when she comes to Boston
we shall make our modest brags about going out to
Europe with her. I don't know; I think I pre-
ferred the idyllic flavor I was beginning to find in
the presence of the ordinary, futureless young girl.

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. lit

rcyaging under the chaperonage of her own inno*
[jence, — the Little Sister of the Whole Ship. But
this crepusculant priraa donna — no, I don't like it.
Though it explains some things. These splendid
creatures are never sent half equipped into the
world. I fancy that where there 's an operatic
voice, there 's an operatic soul to go with it. Weil,
La Sanguinelli will wear me out, yet ! Suggest
•ome new topic, Dunham; talk of something else,
for heaven's sake ! "

"Do you suppose,' asked Dunham, "that she
would like to help get up some musicales, to pass
a way the time ? "

" Oh, do you call that talking of something else ?
What an insatiate organizer you are! You organize
shuffleboard ; you organize public worship ; you
want to organize musicales. She would have to do
all your music for you."

" I think she would like to go in for it," said
Dunham. " It must be a pleasure to exercise sucn
a gift as that, and now that it 's come out in the
way it has, it would be rather awkward for us not
to recognize it."

Staniford refused point-blank to be a party to the
new enterprise, and left Dunham to his own devices
at dinner, where he proposed the. matter.

u If you had my Persis here, new," observed Cap-
tain Jenness, " with her parlor organ, you could get
tlong."

** I wish Miss Jenness was here," said Dunham,

116 THE LADY OF THE ABOQSTOOK.

politely. " But we must try to get on as it is
With Miss Blood's voice to start with, nothing
ought to discourage us." Dunham had a thin and
gentle pipe of his own, and a fairish style in sing
ing, but with his natural modesty he would not of-
fer himself as a performer except in default of all
others. " Don't you sing, Mr. Hicks ? "

" Anything to oblige a friend," returned Hicks
44 But I don't sing — before Miss Blood."

" Miss Blood," said Staniford, listening in ironio
safety, " you overawe us all. I never did sing, but
I think I should want to make an effort if you were
not by."

" But don't you — don't you play something, any-
thing ? " persisted Dunham, in desperate appeal to
Hicks.

"Well, yes," the latter admitted, "I play the
flute a little."

" Flutes on water I " said Staniford. Hicks looked
at him in sulky dislike, but as if resolved not to be
put down by him.

" And have you got your flute with you ? " de-
manded Dunham, joyously.

" Yes, I have," replied Hicks.

" Then we are all right. I think I can carry a
part, and if you will play to Miss Blood's sing
U»g"-

" Try it this evening, if you like," said the other

" Well, ah — I don't know. Perhaps — wf
tad n't better begin this evening."

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK, 11"

Stamford laughed at Dunham's embarrassment
H You might have a sacred concert, and Mr. Hicka
could represent the shawms and cymbals with his
flute."

Dunham looked sorry for Staniford's saying thia
Captain Jenness stared at him, as if his taking the
tames of these scriptural instruments in vain were
• kind of blasphemy, and Lydia seemed puzzled and
a little troubled.

" I did n't think of its being Sunday," said Hicks,
with what Staniford felt to be a cunning assump-
tion of manly frankness, " or any more Sunday
than usual ; seems as if we had had a month of
Sundays already since we sailed. I 'm not much on
religion myself, but I shouldn't like to interfere
with other people's principles."

Staniford was vexed with himself for his scornful
pleasantry, and vexed with the others for taking it
BO seriously and heavily, and putting him so un-
aecessarily in the wrong. He was angry with Dun
ham, and he said to Hicks, "Very just senti-
ments."

" I am glad you like them," replied Hicks, with
lullen apprehension of the offensive tone.

Staniford turned to Lydia. " I suppose that in
South Bradfield your Sabbath is over at sundown
•a Sunday evening."

"That used to be the custom," answered the
|irL " I 've heard my grandfather tell of it."

" Oh, yes," interposed Captain Jenness. " They

1 18 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

used to keep Saturday night down our way, too. I
can remember when 1 was a boy. It came pretty
hard to begin so soon, but it seemed to kind oi
break it, after all, having a night in."

The captain did not know what Staniford began
to laugh at. " Our Puritan ancestors knew jusi
how much human nature could stand, after all
We did not have an uninterrupted Sabbath till the
Sabbath had become much milder. Is that it ? "

The captain had probably no very clear notion oi
what this meant, but simply felt it to be a critical
edge of some sort. " 1 don't know as you can have
too much religion," he remarked. " I 've seen
Borne pretty rough customers in the church, but I
always thought, What would they be out of it ! "

" Very true I " said Staniford, smiling. He
wanted to laugh again, but he liked the captain
too well to do that ; and then he began to rage in
his heart at the general stupidity which had placed
him in the attitude of mocking at religion, a thing
he would have loathed to do. It seemed to him
that Dunham was answerable for his false position.
" But we shall wot see the right sort of Sabbath till
Mr. Dunham gets his Catholic church fully going,"
he added.

They all started, and It oked at Dunham as good
Protestants must when some one whom they would
never have suspected of Catholicism turns out to
be a Catholic. Dunham cast a reproachful glanct
ftt his friend, but said simply, " I am a Catholic, -

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 119

wbai is true ; but I do not admit the pretensions ot
fche Bishop of Rome."

The rest of the company apparently could DO!
follow him in making this distinction ; perhapa
Borne of them did not quite know who the Bishop
of Rome was. Lydia continued to look at him in
fascination ; Hicks seemed disposed to whistle, iJ
such a thing were allowable ; Mr. Watterson de
voutly waited for the captain. " Well," observed
the captain at last, with the air of giving the devil
his due, " I 've seen some very good people among
the Catholics."

" That 's so, Captain Jenness," said the first offi*
cer.

" I don't see," said Lydia, without relaxing her
gaze, "why, if you are a Catholic, you read the
nervice of a Protestant church."

" It is not a Protestant church," answered Dun-
bam, gently, " as I have tried to explain to you."

" The Episcopalian ? " demanded Captain Jen-
ness.

" The Episcopalian," sweetly reiterated Dun-
bam.

" I should like to know what kind of a church it
IB, then," said Captain Jenness, triumphantly.

'* An Apostolic church."

Captain Jenness rubbed his nose, as if this weri
ft new kind of church to him.

*• Founded by Saint Henry VTII himself," inter
acted StaniforcL

120 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" No, Staniford," said Dunham, with a soft re-
pressiveness. And now a threatening light of zeal
began to burn in his kindly eyes. These souls had
plainly been given into his hands for ecclesiastical
enlightenment. " If our friends will allow me, I
will explain " —

Stamford's shaft had recoiled upon his own head.
" O Lord I " he cried, getting up from the table,
" I can't stand that!" The others regarded him,
as he felt, even to that weasel of a Hicks, as a
sheep of uncommon blackness. He went on deck,
and smoked a cigar without relief. He still heard
the girl's voice in singing ; aud he still fe)t in his
nerves the quality of latent passion in it wh'ch had
thrilled him when she sang. His thought ran
formlessly upon her future, and upon what nort of
being was already fated to waken her to thos^ pos-
sibilities of intense suffering and joy which be im
agined in her. A wound at his heart, received
long before, hurt vaguely ; and he felt old.

XI

No one said anything more of the musicales, and
the afternoon and evening wore away without gen-
eral talk. Each seemed willing to keep apart from
the rest. Dunham suffered Lydia to come on deck
alone after tea, and Staniford found her there, in
her usual place, when he went up some time later.
He approached her at once, and said, smiling down
into her face, to which the moonlight gave a pale
mystery, " Miss Blood, did you think I was very
wicked to-day at dinner ? "

Lydia looked away, and waited a moment before
ghe spoke. " I don't know," she said. Then, im-
pulsively, " Did you ? " she asked.

" No, honestly, I don't think I was," answered
Staniford. " But I seemed to leave that impression
on the company. I felt a little nasty, that was all ;
Mid I tried to hurt Mr. Dunham's feelings. But I
lhall make it right with him before I sleep ; he
knows that. He 's used to having me repent at
leisure. Do you ever walk Sunday night? "

" Yes, sometimes," said Lydia interrogatively.

" I 'm glad of that. Then I shall not offend against
your scruples if I ask you to join me in a little ram-
Die, and you will refuse from purely personal conoid
•rations. Will you walk with me ? '

122 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" Yes." Lydia rose.

u And will you take my arm ? " asked Stamford,
a little surprised at her readiness.

" Thank you."

She put her hand upon his arm, confidently
enough, and they began to walk up and down th«
itretch of open deck together.

" Well, " said Staniford, " did Mr. Dunham con-
vince you all ? "

" I think he talks beautifully about it," replied
Lydia, with quaint stiffness.

" I am glad you see what a very good fellow he
is. I have a real affection for Dunham."

" Oh, yes, he 's good. At first it surprised me,
I mean " —

" No, no," Staniford quickly interrupted, " why
did it surprise you to find Dunham good ? "

" I don't know. You don't expect a person to be
lerious who is so — so " —

" Handsome ? "

" No, — so — I don't know just how to say it :
fashionable."

Staniford laughed. " Why, Miss Blood, you 'r«
fashionably dressed yourself, not to go any farther,
and you 're serious."

" It 's different with a man," the girl explained.

"Well, then, how about me?" asked Staniford.
* Am I too well dressed to be expected to be ee-
nous ? "

" Mr. Dunham always seems in earnest," Lydia
answered, evasively.

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 123

•• And you think one can't be in earnest without
being serious ? " Lydia suffered one of those silencei
to ensue in which Stamford had already found him-
self helpless. He knew that he should be forced to
break it : and he said, with a little spiteful mock-
ng, " I suppose the young men of South BradhVul
We both serious and earnest."

" How ? " asked Lydia.

" The young men of South Bradfield."

" I told you that there were none. They all go
away."

" Well, then, the young men of Springfield, of
Keene, of Greenfield."

" I can't tell. I am not acquainted there."

Stamford had begun to have a disagreeable sus-
picion that her ready consent to walk up and down
with a young man in the moonlight might have come
from a habit of the kind. But it appeared that her
fearlessness was like that of wild birds in those des-
ert islands where man has never come. The dis-
covery gave him pleasure out of proportion to its
importance, and he paced back and forth in a silence
that no longer chafed. Lydia walked very well,
»nd kept his step with rhythmic unison, as if they
vrere walking to music together. " That 's the time
in her pulses," he thought, and then he said, " Then
you don't have a groat deal of social excitement, 1
inppose, — dancing, and that kind of thing 7
Though perhaps you don't approve of dancing ? "

" Oh, yes, I like it. Sometimes the sumnief
hoarders get up little dances at the hotel."

124 THE LADY VF THE AROOS100K.

" Oh, the summer boarders ! " Staniford had
overlooked them. " The young men get them up,
and invite the ladies ? " he pursued.

* There are no young men, generally, among the
rammer boarders. The ladies dance together. Moat
of the gentlemen are old, or else invalids."

" Oh I " said Staniford.

"At the Mill Village, where I've taught two
winters, they have dances sometimes, — the mill
hands do."

" And do you go ? "

" No. They are nearly all French Canadians
and Irish people."

" Then you like dancing because there are no
gentlemen to dance with ? "

" There are gentlemen at the picnics."

" The picnics ? "

" The teachers' picnics. They have them every
summer, in a grove by the pond."

There was, then, a high-browed, dyspeptic high-
school principal, and the desert-island theory was
probably all wrong. It vexed Staniford, when he
had so nearly got the compass of her social life, to
find this unexplored corner in it.

*' And I suppose you are leaving very agreeable
friends among the teachers ? "

" Some of them are pleasant. But I don't kno*
them very well. I 've only been to one of the pio-
lies."
! Stamford drew a long, silent breath. After all,

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 12lj

he knew everything. He mechanically dropped a
little the arm on which her hand rested, that it
might slip farther within. Her timid remoteness
had its charm, and he fell to thinking, with amuse-
ment, how she who was so subordinate to him was,
in the dimly known sphere in which he had been
groping to find her, probably a person of authority
and consequence. It satisfied a certain domineering
quality in him to have reduced her to this humble
attitude, while it increased the protecting tender-
ness he was beginning to have for her. His mind
went off further upon this matter of one's different
attitudes toward different persons ; he thought of
men, and women too, before whom he should in-
stantly feel like a boy, if he could be confronted
with them, even in his present lordliness of mood.
In a fashion of his when he convicted himself of
anything, he laughed aloud. Lydia shrank a little
from him, in question. " I beg your pardon," he
said. " I was laughing at something I happened
to think of. Do you ever find yourself struggling
very hard to be what you think people think you
are?"

" Oh, yes," replied Lydia. «« But I thought no
one else did."

" Everybody does the thing that we think no one
else does," said Staniford, sententiously.

" I don't know whether I quite like it," said
Lydid,. " It seems like hypocrisy. It used to -worry
me. Sometimes I wondered if I had any real Belt

126 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

[ seemed to be just what people made me, and a
different person to each."

" I 'm glad to hear it, Miss Blood. We are com
pan ions in hypocrisy. As we are such nonentitiea
we shall not affect each other at all." Lydia
laughed, " Don't you think so ? What are you
laughing at ? I told you what I was laughing at ! "

44 But 1 did n't ask you."

44 You wished to know."

*4 Yes, I did."

" Then you ought to tell me what I wish to
know."

44 It 's nothing," said Lydia. " I thought you
were mistaken in what you said."

44 Oh ! Then you believe that there 's enough of
you to affect me ? "

44 No."

44 The other way, then ? "

She did not answer.

44 1 'm delighted ! " exclaimed Staniford. " I hope
I don't exert an uncomfortable influence. I should
be very unhappy to think so." Lydia stooped side-
wise, away from him, to get a fresh hold of her
ikirt, which she was carrying in her right hand,
»nd she hung a little more heavily upon bis arm.
- 1 hope I make you think better of yourself,—
very self-satisfied, very ccuceited even."

•4 No," said Lydia.

44 You pique my curiosity beyond endurance
Tell me how 1 make you feel."

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 127

She looked quickly round at him, as if to see
irhether he was in earnest. "Why, it's nothing,"
•he said " You made me feel as if you were laugh*
ing at everybody."

It flatters a man to be accused of sarcasm by the
otbar sex, and Staniford was not superior to th«
soft pleasure of the reproach. " Do you think I
make other people feel so, too ? "

" Mr. Dunham said " —

" Oh ! Mr. Dunham has been talking me over
with you, has he ? What did he tell you of me ?
There, is nobody like a true friend for dealing an
underhand blow at one's reputation. Wait till you
hear my account of Dunham I What did he say? "

" He said that was only your way of laughing at
yourself."

" The traitor ! What did you say ? "

" I don't know that I said anything."

" You were reserving your opinion for my own
hearing ? "

" No."

" Why don't you tell me what you thought? It
might be of great use to me. I 'in in earnest, now ;
X 'm serious. Will you tell me ? "

"Yes, some time," said Lydia, who was both
unused and mystified at this persistence.

" When ? To-morrow ? "

" Oh, that 's too soon. When I get to Venice I M

"Ah I That's a subterfuge. You know w«
ihall part in Trieste.'

L28 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" I thought," said Lydia, " yon were coining tc
Venice, too."

*' Oh, yes, but I should n't be able to see you
fchere."

** Why not ? "

"Why not? Why, because" — He was neai
Willing the young girl who hung upon his arm, and
walked up and down with him in the moonlight,
that in the wicked Old World towards which they
were sailing young people could not meet save in
the sight and hearing of their elders, and that a
confidential analysis of character would be impossi-
ble between them there. The wonder of her being
where she was, as she was, returned upon him with
a freshness that it had been losing in the custom of
the week past. " Because you will be so much
taken up with your friends," he said, lamely. He
added quickly, " There 's one thing I should like to
know, Miss Blood : did you hear what Mr. Dun-
ham and I were saying, last night, when we stood
in the gangway and kept you from coming up ? "

Lydia waited a moment. Then she said, " Yea.
I could n't help hearing it."

" That 's all right. I don't care for your healing
what I said. But — I hope it was n't true? "

"I couldn't understand what you meant by it,'
ihe answered, evasively, but rather faintly.

" Thanks," said Staniford. " I did n't mean any
thing. It was merely the guilty consciousness of a
generally disagreeable person." They walked up

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 129

and down many turns without saying anything.
Shs could not have made any direct protest, and it
pleased him that she could not frame any flourish"
ing generalities. " Yes," Staniford resumed, " I
will try to see you as I pass through Venice. And
I will come to hear you sing when you come out at
Milan."

" Come out ? At Milan ? "

" Why, yes I You are going to study at the con«
servatory in Milan ? "

" How did you know that ? " demanded Lydia.

" From hearing you to-day. May I tell you ho\f
much I liked your singing ? "

" My aunt thought I ought to cultivate my voice.
But I would never go upon the stage. I would
rather sing in a church. I should like that better
than teaching."

" I think you 're quite right," said Staniford,
gravely. "It's certainly much better to sing in a
church than to sing in a theatre. Though I believe
khe theatre pays best."

" Oh, I don't care for that. All I should want
would be to make a living."

The reference to her poverty touched him. It
was a confidence, coming from one so reticent, that
was of value. He waited a moment and said,
"It's surprising how well we keep our footing
here, is n't it? There 's hardly any swell, but the
•hip pitches. I think we walk better together than \

130 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" Yss," answered Lydia, "I think we do."

M You must n't let me tire you. I 'm indefatiga
ble."

" Oh, I 'm not tired. I like it, — walking."

*' Do you walk much at home ? "

"Not much. It's a pretty good walk to th
mhool-house."

" Oh I Then you like walking at sea better than
you do on shore ? "

" It is n't the custom, much. If there were any
one else, I should have liked it thr«»-e. But it 'a
rather dull, going by yourself."

•' Yes, I understand how that is," said Staniford,
dropping his teasing tone. "It's stupid. And I
suppose it 's pretty lonesome at South Bradfield
every way."

" It is, — winters," admitted Lydia. " In the
Bummer you see people, at any rate, but in winter
there are days and days when hardly any one passes.
The snow is banked up everywhere."

He felt her give an involuntary shiver ; and he
began to talk to her about the climate to which she
waa going. It was all stranger to her than he could
have realized, and less intelligible. She remembered
California very dimly, and she had no experience by
which she could compare and adjust his facts. He
wade her walk up and down more and more swiftly
M he lost himself in the comfort of his own talking
and of her listening, and he failed to note the little
talterings with win ih she expressed her weariuesa

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 131

All at once he halted, and said, " Why, you 're out
of breath ! I beg your pardon. You should have
•topped me. Let us sit down." He wished to walk
across the deck to where the seats were, but she
just perceptibly withstood his motion, and he for-
b»re.

" I think I won't sit down," she said. " I will
go down-stairs." She began withdrawing her hand
from his arm. He put his right hand upon here,
and when it came out of his arm it remained in his
hand.

•' I 'm afraid you won't walk with me again/'
said Staniford. " I Ve tired you shamefully."

" Oh, not at all I "

"And you will?"

« Yes."

" Thanks. You 're very amiable." He still held
her hand. He pressed it. The pressure was not
returned, but her hand seemed to quiver and throb
in his like a bird held there. For tho time neither
of them spoke, and it seemed a long time. Stank-
ford found himself carrying her hand towards his
\\ ps ; and she was helplessly, trustingly, letting
lira.

He dropped her hand, and said, abruptly, "Good-
night."

" Good-night," she answered, and ceased fiom hit
tide like a ghost.

XII

STAMTFOKD sat in the moonlight, and tried to
think what the steps were that had brought him
to this point ; but there were no steps of which bs
was sensible. He remembered thinking the night
before that the conditions were those of flirtation ;
to-night this had not occurred to him. The talk
had been of the dullest commonplaces ; yet he had
pressed her hand and kept it in his, and had been
about to kiss it. He bitterly considered the dis-
parity between his present attitude and the stand
he had taken when he declared to Dunham that it
rested with them to guard her peculiar isolation
from anything that she could remember with pain
or humiliation when she grew wiser in the world -
He recalled his rage with Hicks, and the insulting
condemnation of his bearing towards him ever
Aince ; and could Hicks have done worse ? He had
done better : he had kept away from her ; he had
let her alone.

That night Staniford slept badly, and woke with
a restless longing to see the girl, and to read in he«
face whatever her thought of him had been. Bui
Lydia did not come out to breakfast. Thomas re«
t»orted that she had a headache, and that he had
already carried her the tea and toast she wanted.

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 1/18

" Well, it seems kind of lonesome without her/1
laid the captain. " It don't seem as if we could
get along."

It seemed desolate to Stamford, who let the talk
flag and fail round him without an effort to rescue
it. All the morning he lurked about, keeping out
of Dunham's way, and fighting hard through a
dozen pages of a book, to which he struggled to
nail his wandering mind. A headache was a little
matter, but it might be even less than a headache.
He belated himself purposely at dinner, and en-
tered the cabin just as Lydia issued from her state-
room door.

She was pale and looked heavy-eyed. As bhe
lifted her glance to him, she blushed ; and he felt
tue answering red stain his face. When she sar
flown, the captain patted her on the shoulder with
his burly right hand, and said he could not navigate
:he ship if she got sick. He pressed her to eat of
this and that ; and when she would not, he said,
well, there was no use trying to force an appetite,
and that she would be better all the sooner for
dieting. Hicks went to his state-room, and came
out with a box of guava jelly, from his private
stores, and won a triumph enviable in all eyes when
Lydia consented to like it with the chicken. Dun-
ham plundered his own and Stamford's common
ntock of dainties for her dessert; the first officer
agreed and applauded right and left; Staniford
ilone nat taciturn and inoperative, watching hei

134 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

face furtively. Once her eyes wandered to the side
ef the table where he and Dunham sat ; then she
colored and dropped her glance.

He took his book again after dinner, and with big
finger between the leaves, at the last-read, unintel-
ligible page, he went out to the bow, and crouched
down there to renew the conflict of the morning.
It was not long before Dunham followed. He
•tooped over to lay a hand on either of Stamford's
shoulders.

" What makes you avoid me, old man ? " he de-
manded, looking into Stamford's face with his frank,
kind eyes.

"And I avoid you ? " asked Staniford.

"Yes; why?"

" Because I feel rather shabby, I suppose. I
knew I felt shabby, but I did n't know I was avoid-
ing you."

" Well, no matter. If you feel shabby, it 's all
right; but I hate to have you feel shabby." He got
his left hand down into Stamford's right, and a
tacit reconciliation was transacted between them.
Dunham looked about for a seat, and found a stool,
which he planted in front of Staniford. ''Wasn't
it pleasant to have our little lady back at table,
.gain?"

" Very," said Staniford.

** I could n't help thinking how droll it was that
I person whom we all considered a sort of incun>
trance and superfluity at tirst should really turn

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 135

oat an object of prime importance to us all. Isn't
it amusing ? "

"Very droll."

" Why, we were quite lost without her, at break-
fast. I could n't have imagined her taking such a
hold upon us all, in so short a time. But she 's a
pretty creature, and as good as she 's pretty."

** I remember agreeing with you on those pointi
before." Staniford feigned to suppress fatigue.

Dunham observed him. " I know you don't take
BO much interest in her as — as the rest of us do,
and I wish you did. You don't know what a lovely
nature she is."

"No?"

" No ; and I 'm sure you 'd like her."

" Is it important that I should like her ? Don't
let your enthusiasm for the sex carry you beyond
bounds, Dunham."

" No, no. Not important, but very pleasant.
A nd I think acquaintance with such a girl would
give you some new ideas of women."

" Oh, my old ones are good enough. Look here,
Dunham," said Staniford, sharply, " what are you
after ? "

u What makes you think I 'm after anything? "

" Because you 're not a humbug, and because I
.\m. My depraved spirit instantly recognized the
Jawaing duplicity of yours. But you 'd better lw
uoncst. You can't make the other thing work
What do you want?"

136 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" I want your advice. I want your help, St»»
iford."

" I thought so ! Coming and forgiving me in
that — apostolic manner."

" Don't ! "

" Well. What do you want my help for ? What
have you been doing ? " Staniford paused, and
suddenly added : " Have you been making love to
Lurella ? " He said this in his ironical manner,
but his smile was rather ghastly.

" For shame, Staniford ! " cried Dunham. But
he reddened violently.

" Then it is n't with Miss Hibbard that you want
my help. I 'm glad of that. It would have been
awkward. I'm a little afraid of Miss Hibbard. It
is n't every one has your courage, my dear fellow."

" I have n't been making love to her," said Dun-
ham, " but — I " —

" But you what ? " demanded Staniford sharply
again. There had been less tension of voice in his
joking about Miss Hibbard.

" Staniford," said his friend, " I don't know
whether you noticed her, at dinner, when she
kooked across to our own side ? "

" What did she do ? "

" Did you notice that she — well, that she blushed
» little ? "

Staniford waited a while before he answered
ikfter a gulp, " Yes, I noticed that."

** Well, I don't know how to put it exactly, but

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK 131

C'm afraid that I have unwittingly wronged thii
young girl."

" Wronged her ? What the devil do you mean,
Dunham ? " cried Staniford, with bitter impatience

" I 'm afraid — I 'm afraid — Why, it 's simply
this : that in trying to amuse her, and make the
time pass agreeably, and relieve her mind, and all
that, don't you know, I 've given her the impression
that I 'm — well — interested in her, and that she
may have allowed herself — insensibly, you know —
to look upon me in that light, and that she may have
begun to think — that she may have become " —

" Interested in you ? " interrupted Staniford
rudely.

« Well — ah —well, that is — ah —well — yes ! '
cried Dunham, bracing himself to sustain a shout
of ridicule. But Staniford did not laugh, and
Dunham had courage to go on. " Of course, it
sounds rather conceited to say so, but the circum-
stances are so peculiar that I think we ought to
recognize even any possibilities of that sort."

" Oh, yes," said Staniford, gravely. " Most
women, I believe, are so innocent as to think a
man in love when he behaves like a lover. And
this one," he added ruefully, " seems more than
commonly ignorant of our ways, — of our infernal
ihilly-shallying, purposeless no-mindedness. She
eould n't imaginfe a man — a gentleman — devoting
himself to her by the hour, and trying by every art
lo show his interest and pleasure in her society,

138 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

without imagining that he wished her to like him,
— love him ; there 's no half-way about it. Sh«
could n't suppose him the shallow, dawdling, soul-
less, senseless ape he really was." Stamford was
quite in a heat by this time, and Dunham listened
ill open astonishment.

" You are hard upon me," he said. " Of course,
I have been to blame ; I know that, I acknowledge
it. But my motive, as you know well enough, \*at
never to amuse myself with her, but to contribute
in any way I could to her enjoyment and happi-
ness. I ' —

" You ! " cried Staniford. " What are you talk-
ing about? "

" What are you talking about? " demanded Dun-
ham, in his turn.

Staniford recollected himself. " I was speaking
of abstract flirtation. I was firing into the air."

" In my case, I don't choose to call it flirtation,"
returned Dunham. u My purpose, I am bound to
say, was thoroughly unselfish and kindly."

"My dear fellow," said Staniford, with a bitter
smile, " there can be no unselfishness and no kindli-
ness between us and young girls, unless we mean
business, — love-making. You may be sure that
they feel it so, if they don't understand it so."

** I don't agree with you. I don't believe it.
My own experience is that the sweetest and most
generous friendships may exist between us, without
ft thought of anything else. And as to -waking

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 189

love, I must beg you to remember that m\ love has
been made once for all. I never dreamt of show-
ing Miss Blood anything but polite attention."

*' Then what are you troubled about ? "

" I am. troubled " — Dunham stopped helple^wly,
and Staniford laughed in a challenging, disagree-
able way, so that the former perforce resumed:
44 1 'm troubled about — about her possible misin
terpretation."

" Oh ! Then in this case of sweet and generous
friendship the party of the second part may have
construed the sentiment quite differently ! Well,
what do you want me to do ? Do you want me to
take the contract off your hands ? "

" You put it grossly," said Dunham.

"Andyow put it offensively!" cried the other.
" My regard for the young lady is as reverent as
yours. You have no right to miscolor my words."

" Staniford, you are too bad," said Dunham, hurt
even more than angered. " If I 've come to you
in the wrong moment — if you are vexed at any-
thing, I '11 go away, and beg your pardon for boring
you."

Staniford was touched ; he looked cordially into
his friend's face. " I was vexed at something, but
you never can come to me at the wrong moment,
old fellow. I beg your pardon. I see your ditfi-
%uity plainly enough, and I think you 're quite
right in proposing to hold up, — for that's what
you mean, 1 take it? '

140 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

said Dunham, " it is. And I don't know
how she will like it. She will be puzzled awd
grieved by it. I had n't thought seriously about
the matter till this morning, when she did n't come
to breakfast. You know I 've been in the habit ol
asking her to walk with me every night after tea
but Saturday evening you were with her, and last
night I felt sore about the affairs of the day, and
rather dull, and I did n't ask her. I think she
noticed it. I think she was hurt."

" You think so? " said Staniford, peculiarly.

" I might not have thought so," continued Dun-
ham, " merely because she did not come to break-
fast ; but her blushing when she looked across at
dinner really made me uneasy."

" Very possibly you 're right." Staniford mused
a while before he spoke again. " Well, what do
you wish me to do ? "

" I must hold up, as you say, and of course she
will feel the difference. I wish — I wish at least
you would n't avoid her, Staniford. That 's alL
Any little attention from you — I know it bores
you — would not only break the loneliness, but it
would explain that — that my — attentions didn't
— ah — had n't meant anything."

"Oh!"

" Yes ; that it 's common to offer them. And
ihe 's a girl of so much force of character that when
ihe aees the affair in its true light — I suppose
I 'm to blame I Yes, I ought to have told her at

THE LADY OF THE ABOOSTOOK. 141

the beginning that I was engaged. But you can't
force a fact of that sort upon a new acquaintance :
it looks silly." Dunham hung his head in self-
reproach.

" Well ? " asked Stamford.

"Well, that's all! No, it isn't all, either.
There 's something else troubles me. Our poet
little friend is a blackguard, I suppose?"

"Hicks?"

"Yes."

" You have invited him to be the leader of your
orchestra, have n't you ? "

" Oh, don't, Stamford ! " cried Dunham in his
helplessness. " I should hate to see her dependent
in any degree upon that little cad for society." Cad
was the last English word which Dunham had got
himself used to. " That was why I hoped that you
would n't altogether neglect her. She 's here, and
she 's no choice but to remain. We can't leave
her to herself without the danger of leaving her to
Hicks. You see?"

" Well," said Staniford gloomily, " I 'm not sure
that you could n't leave her to a worse cad than
Hicks." Dunham looked up in question. "To
me, for example."

" Oh, hallo 1 " cried Dunham.

" I don't see how I 'm to be of any use," contin-
ued the other. " I 'm not a squire of dames : I
ihould merely make a mess of it."

" You 're mistaken, Staniford, — I 'm sure jom

142 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

we, — in supposing that she dislikes you," urged
his friend.

" Oh, very likely."

" I know that she 's simply afraid of you."

" Don't flatter, Dunham. Why should I care
whether she fears me or affects me ? No, my dear
fellow. This is irretrievably your own affair. 1
should be glad to help you out if I knew how. But
I don't. In the mean time your duty is plain, what-
ever happens. You can't overdo the sweet and the
generous in this wicked world without paying the
penalty."

Staniford smiled at the distress in which Dunham
went his way. He understood very well that it
was not vanity, but the liveliness of a sensitive con-
science, that had made Dunham search his conduct
for the offense against the young girl's peace of
heart which he believed he had committed, and it
was the more amusing because he was so guiltless
of harm. Staniford knew who was to blame for the
headache and the blush. He knew that Dunham
had never gone so far ; that his chivalrous pleasure
in her society might continue for years free from
flirtation. But in spite of this conviction a little
poignant doubt made itself felt, and suddenly be-
came his whole consciousness. "Confound him!'
he mused. " I wonder if she really could care any
thing for him ! " He shut his book, and rose to
his feet with such a burning in his heart that he
not have believed himself capable of t.h«

THE LADY OF THE ABOOSTOOK. 143

greater rage he felt at what he just then saw. It
was Lydia and Hicks seated together in the place
where he had sat with her. She leaned with one
arm upon the rail, in an attitude that brought all
her slim young grace into evidence. She seemed
on very good terms with him, and he was talking
and making her laugh as Staniford had never heard
her laugh before — so freely, so heartily.

XIII

THK atoms that had been tending in Stamford*
being toward a certain form suddenly arrested and
shaped themselves anew at the vibration imparted
by this laughter. He no longer felt himself Hicks'a
possible inferior, but vastly better in every way,
and out of the turmoil of his feelings in regard to
Lydia was evolved the distinct sense of having been
trifled with. Somehow, an advantage had been
taken of his sympathies and purposes, and his for-
bearance had been treated with contempt.

The conviction was neither increased nor dimin-
ished by the events of the evening, when Lydia
brought out some music from her state-room, and
Hicks appeared, flute in hand, from his, and they
began practicing one of the pieces together. It was
a pretty enough sight. Hicks had been gradually
growing a better -looking fellow ; he had an unde-
niable picturesqueness, as he bowed his head over
the music towards hers ; and she, as she held the
sheet with one hand for him to see, while she noise-
lessly accompanied herself on the table with the
Sngers of the other, and tentatively sang now this
passage and now that, was divine. The picture
•eemed pleasing to neither Stamford nor Dunham,
they went on deck together, and sat down to theil

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 145

cigarettes in their wonted place. They did not talk
of Lydia, or of any of the things that had formed
the basis of their conversation hitherto, but Stani-
ford returned to hia Colorado scheme, and explained
at length the nature of his purposes and expecta-
tions. He had discussed these matters before, but
he had never gone into them so fully, nor with
such cheerful earnestness. He said he should never
marry, — he had made up his mind to that ; but he
hoped to make money enough to take care of hia
sister's boy Jim handsomely, as the little chap had
been named for him. He had been thinking the
matter over, and he believed that he should get
back by rail and steamer as soon as he could after
they reached Trieste. He was not sorry he had
come ; but he could not afford to throw away too
much time on Italy, just then.

Dunham, on his part, talked a great deal of Misa
Hibbard, and of some curious psychological char-
acteristics of her dyspepsia. He asked Stamford
whether he had ever shown him the photograph of
Miss Hibbard taken by Sarony when she was on to
New York the last time : it was a three-quarters
view, and Dunham thought it the best she had had
done. He spoke of her generous qualities, and of
the interest she had always had in the Diet Kitchen,
to which, as an invalid, her attention had been partic-
ularly directed : and he said that in her last letter she
had mentioned a project for establishing diet kitcheni
to Europe, on the Boston plan. When their talk
10

146 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

grew more impersonal and took a wider range, thej
gathered suggestion from the situation, and remarked
upon the immense solitude of the sea. They agreed
that there was something weird in the long contin-
uance of fine weather, and that the moon had a strange
look. They spoke of the uncertainty of life. Dun-
ham regretted, as he had often regretted before, that
his friend had no fixed religious belief ; and Stani
ford gently accepted his solicitude, and said that he
had at least a conviction if not a creed. He then
begged Dunham's pardon in set terms for trying to
wound his feelings the day before ; and in the silent
hand-clasp that followed they renewed all the coiv
diality of their friendship. From time to time, as
they talked, the music from below came up fitfully,
and once they had to pause as Lydia sang through
the song that she and Hicks were practicing.

As the days passed their common interest in the
art brought Hicks and the young girl almost con-
stantly together, and the sound of their concerting
often filled the ship. The musicales, less formal
than Dunham had intended, and perhaps for that
reason a source of rapidly diminishing interest with
him, superseded both ring-toss and shuffle-board, and
seemed even more acceptable to the ship's company
%a an entertainment. One evening, when the per
formers had been giving a piece of rather more than
usual excellence and difficulty, one of the sailors,
iwputed by his mates, came aft, with many clumsy
thowa of deference, and asked them to give March

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 147

ing through Georgia. Hicks found this out of his
repertory, but Lydia sang it. Then the group at
the forecastle shouted with one voice for Tramp,
Tramp, Tramp, the Boys are Marching, and so be-
guiled her through the whole list of war-songs. She
ended with one unknown to her listeners, but better
than all the rest in its pathetic words and music,
and when she had sung The Flag 's come back to
Tennessee, the spokesman of the sailors came aft
again, to thank her for his mates, and to say they
would not spoil that last song by asking for any-
thing else. It was a charming little triumph for
her, as she sat surrounded by her usual court : the
captain was there to countenance the freedom the
Bailors had taken, and Dunham and Staniford stood
near, but Hicks, at her right hand, held the place
of honor.

The next night Staniford found her alone in the
waist of the ship, and drew up a stool beside the
rail where she sat.

"We all enjoyed your singing so much, last
night, Miss Blood. I think Mr. Hicks plays
charmingly, but I believe I prefer to hear your
voice alone."

" Thank you," said Lydia, looking down, de-
murely.

" It must be a great satisfaction to feel that yon
can give so much pleasure."

" I don't know," she said, passing the palm of
sne hand over the back of the other.

148 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" When you are a prima donna you must n't fo»
get your old friends of the Aroostook. We shall
all take vast pride in you."

It was not a question, and Lydia answered noth-
ing. Staniford, who had rather obliged himself to
this advance, with some dim purpose of showing
that nothing had occurred to alienate them since
the evening of their promenade, without having
proved to liimself that it was necessary to do this,
felt that he was growing angry. It irritated him
to have her sit as unmoved after his words as if he
had not spoken.

" Miss Blood," he said, " I envy you your gift of
snubbing people."

Lydia looked at him. " Snubbing people ? " she
echoed.

" Yes ; your power of remaining silent when you
vish to put down some one who has been wittingly
or unwittingly impertinent."

"I don't know what you mean," she said, in a
sort of breathless way.

" And you did n't intend to mark your dis-
pleasure at my planning your future ? "

« No ! We had talked of that. I " —

" And you were not vexed with me for any-
vhing? I have been afraid that I — that you" —
Staniford found that he was himself getting short
of breath. He had begun with the intention oi
mystifying her, but matters had suddenly taken
mother course, and be was really anxious to

THE LADY OF THE AKOOSTOOK. 149

whether any disagreeable associations -with that
night lingered in her mind. With this longing
came a natural inability to find the right word.
** I was afraid " — he repeated, and then he
•topped again. Clearly, he could not tell her that
he was afraid he had gone too far; but this was
what he meant. " You don't walk with me, any
more, Miss Blood," he concluded, with an air of
burlesque reproach.

" You have n't asked me — since," she said.

He felt a singular value and significance in this
word, since. It showed that her thoughts had
been running parallel with his own ; it permitted,
if it did not signify, that he should resume the
mood of that time, where their parting had inter-
rupted it. He enjoyed the fact to the utmost, but
he was not sure that he wished to do what he was
permitted. " Then I did n't tire you ? " he merely
asked. He was not sure, now he came to think of
it, that he liked her willingness to recur to that
time. He liked it, but not quite in the way he
would have liked to like it.

" No," she said.

" The fact is," he went on aimlessly, " that I
thought I had rather abused your kindness. Bfc-
rides," he added, veering off, " I was afraid I should
be an interruption to the musical exercises."

" Oh, no," said Lydia. " Mr. Dunham has n't
wranged anything yet." Staniford thought thi«
incandid. It was fighting shy of Hicks, who wai

160 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

the person in his own mind ; and it reawakened •
luspicion which was lurking there. " Mr. Dun-
ham seems to have lost his interest."

This struck Staniford as an expression of pique •
\t reawakened quite another suspicion. It was evi-
dent that she was hurt at the cessation of Dun-
ham's attentions. He was greatly minded to say
chat Dunham was a fool, but he ended by saying,
with sarcasm, " I suppose he saw that he was su-
perseded."

" Mr. Hicks plays well," said Lydia, judicially,
" but he does n't really know so much of music aa
Mr. Dunham."

" No ? " responded Staniford, with irony. " I will
tell Dunham. No doubt he 's been suffering the
pangs ot professional jealousy. That must be the
reason why he keeps away."

" Keeps away ? " asked Lydia.

" Now I Ve made an ass of myself I " thought
Staniford. " You said that he seemed to have lost
his interest," he answered her.

"Oh! Yes!" assented Lydia. And then she
remained rather distraught, pulling at the ruffling
of her dress.

" Dunham is a very accomplished man," said
Staniford, finding the usual satisfaction in pressing
bis breast against the thorn. " He 's a great favorite
In society. He 's up to no end of things." Stani-
foid uttered these praises in a curiously bitter tone
* He 's a capital talker. Don't you think he talk*
•rell?"

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK 151

" I don't know; I suppose I have n't seen encrisjh
people to be a good judge."

" Well, you 've seen enough people to know tb&S
he 's very good looking ? "

"Yes?"

" You don't mean to say you don't think him
good looking ? "

" No, — oh, no, I mean — that is — I don't know
anything about his looks. But he resembles a lady
who used to come from Boston, summers. I thought
he must be her brother."

" Oh, then you think he looks effeminate ! " cried
Staniford, with inner joy. " I assure you," he added
with solemnity, " Dunham is one of the manliest
fellows in the world ! "

" Yea ? " said Lydia.

Staniford rose. He was smiling gayly as he looked
over the broad stretch of empty deck, and down
into Lydia's eyes. " Would n't you like to take a
turn, now?"

" Yes," she said promptly, rising and arranging
her wrap across her shoulders, so as to leave her
hands free. She laid one hand in his arm and
gathered her skirt with the other, and they swept
round together for the start and confronted Hicks.

" Oh ! " cried Lydia, with what seemed dismay,
* I promised Mr. Hicks to practice a song with
hi in." She did not try to release her hand from
Stamford's arm, but was letting it linger then
fr resolutely

152 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

Staniford dropped his arm, and let her hand fall
He bowed with icy stiffness, and said, with a
courtesy so fierce that Mr. Hicks, on whom he
glared as he spoke, quailed before it, "I yield to
four prior engagement."

* XIV

IT -was nothing to Stamford that she should
promised Hicks to practice a song with him, and no
process of reasoning could have made it otherwise.
The imaginary opponent with whom he scornfully
argued the matter had not a word for himself.
Neither could the young girl answer anything t&
the cutting speeches which he mentally made her
as he sat alone chewing the end of his cigar ; and
he was not moved by the imploring looks which hia
fancy painted in her face, when he made believe
that she had meekly returned to offer him some
sort of reparation. Why should she excuse her-
§elf ? he asked. It was he who ought to excuse
himself for having been in the way. The dialogue
went on at length, with every advantage to the
inventor.

He was finally aware of some one standing near
and looking down at him. It was the second mate,
who supported himself in a conversational posture
by the hand which he stretched to the shrouds
*bove their heads. "Are you a good sailor, Mr.
Staniford?" he inquired. He and Staniford wer«
friends in their way, and had talked together be-
toiethia.

154 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" Do you mean seasickness ? Why ? " Staniford
looked up at the mate's face.

" Well, we 're going to get it, I guess, before long.
We shall soon be off the Spanish coast. We Ve had
& great run so far."

" If it comes we must stand it. But I make it a
rule never to be seasick beforehand."

" Well, I ain't one to borrow trouble, either
It don't run in the family. Most of us like to
chance things. I chanced it for the whole war, and
I come out all right. Sometime* it don't work so
well."

" Ah ? " said Staniford, who knew that this waa
a leading remark, but forbore, as he knew Mason
wished, to follow it up directly.

"One of us chanced it once too often, and of
course it was a woman."

"The risk?"

"Not the risk. My oldest sister tried tamin' a
tiger. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a tiger
won't tame worth a cent. But her pet was such a
lamb most the while that she guessed she 'd chance
it. It did n't work. She 's at home with mother
now, — three children, of course, — and he 's in
hell, I s'pose. He was killed 'long-side o' me at
Gettysburg. Ike was a good fellow when he waa
lober. But my souls, the life he led that poor
girl 1 Yes, when a man 's got that tiger in him,
there ought to be some quiet little war round for
puttin' him out of his misery." Stanifoi d listened

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTlOK. 155

tilently, waiting for the mate to make the applica-
tion of his grim allegory. " I s'pose I 'm preju-.
diced ; but I do hate a drunkard ; and when I
Bee one of 'em makin' up to a girl, I want to go
to her, and tell her she 'd better take a real tigw
out the show, at once."

The idea which these words suggested sent
thrill to Staniford's heart, but he continued silent,
and the mate went on, with the queer smile, which
could be inferred rather than seen, working undei
his mustache and the humorous twinkle of his
eyes evanescently evident under his cap peak.

" I don't go round criticism' my superior officers*
and / don't say anything about the responsibility
the old man took. The old man 's all right, accord-
in' to his lights ; he ain't had a tiger in the family.
But if that chap was to fall overboard, — well, I
don't know kow long it would take to lower a boat,
if I was to listen to my conscience. There ain't
really any help for him. He 's begun too young
ever to get over it. He won't be ashore at Try-
East an hour before he 's drunk. If our men had
any spirits amongst 'em that could be begged,
bought, or borrowed, he 'd be drunk now, right
along. Well, I 'm off watch," said the mate, at the
tap of bells. " Guess we '11 get our little gule
pretty soon."

" Good-night," said Staniford, who remained pon-
Jering. He presently rose, and walked up and dowv
ihe deck. He could hear Lydia and Hicks trying

156 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

that song : now the voice, and now the flute ; then
both together ; and presently a burst of laughter.
He began to be angry with her ignorance and inex-
perience. It became intolerable to Inm that a
woman should be going about with no more knowl-
edge of the world than a child, and entangling her-
•elf in relations with all sorts of people. It waa
•hocking to think of that little sot, who had now
made his infirmity known to all the ship's company,
admitted to association with her which looked to
common eyes like courtship. From the mate's in-
sinuation that she ought to be warned, it was evi-
dent that they thought her interested in Hicks ;
and the mate had come, like Dunham, to leave the
responsibility with Staniford. It only wanted now
that Captain Jenness should appear with his ap-
peal, direct or indirect.

While Staniford walked up and down, and scorned
and raged at the idea that he had anything to do
with the matter, the singing and fluting came to a
pause in the cabin ; and at the end of the next
tune, which brought him to the head of the gang-
way stairs, he met Lydia emerging. He stopped
and spoke to her, having instantly resolved, at sight
of her, not to do so.

" Have you come up for breath, like a mer-
maid ? " he asked. " Not that I 'in sure mermaid*
do."

" Oh, no," said Lydia. " I think I dropped my
handkerchief where we were sitting."

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 157

Stamford suspected, with a sudden return to a
theory of her which he had already entertained,
that she had not done so. But she went lightly by
him, where he stood stolid, and picked it up ; and
now he suspected that she had dropped it there on
purpose.

" You have come back to walk with me ? "

" No ! " said the girl indignantly. " I have not
come back to walk with you ! " She waited a mo-
ment ; then she burst out with, " How dare you
say such a thing to me ? What right have you to
speak to me so ? What have I done to make you
think that I would come back to " —

The fierce vibration in her voice made him know
that her eyes were burning upon him and her lipa
trembling. He shrank before her passion as a man
must before the justly provoked wrath of a woman,
or even of a small girl.

" I stated a hope, not a fact," he said in meek
uncandor. " Don't you think you ought to have
done so?"

" I don't — I don't understand you," panted
Lydia, confusedly arresting her bolts in mid-course.

Staniford pursued his guilty advantage ; it was
uis only chance. " I gave way to Mr. Hicks when
> ou had an engagement with me. I thought — you
would come back to keep your engagement." He
Was still very meek.

" Excuse me," she said with self-reproach that
'«• jnld have melted the heart of any one but a man

158 THE LADY OP THE AROOSTOOK.

who was in the wrong, and was trying to get out ol

it at all hazards. " I did n't know what you meant
_„ j »

" If I had meant what you thought," interrupted
Staniford nobly, for he could now afford to be gen-
erDus, "I should have deserved much more than
you said. But I hope yoxi won't punish my awk
wardness by refusing to walk with me."

He knew that she regarded him earnestly before
she said, " I must get my shawl and hat."

" Let me go ! " he entreated.

" You could n't find them," she answered, as she
vanished past him. She returned, and promptly
laid her hand in his proffered arm ; it was as if she
were eager to make him amends for her harshness.

Staniford took her hand out, and held it while he
bowed low toward her. " I declare myself satis-
fied."

" I don't understand," said Lydia, in alarm and
mortification.

" When a subject has been personally aggrieved
by his sovereign, his honor is restored if they
merely cross swords,"

The girl laughed her delight in the extravagance*
She must have been more or less than woman not
to have found his Battery delicious. " But we are
:epublicans ! " she »i id in evasion.

" To be sure, we ?re republicans. Well, then.
Miss Blood, answer yorr free and oqual one thingr
* it a case of conscience "* "

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 10»

" How ? " she asked, and Staniford did not recoil
ni the rusticity. This how for what, and the inter
rogative yes, still remained. Since their first walk,
§he had not wanted to know, in however great sur-
prise she found herself.

44 Are you going to walk with me because yxm
had promised ? "

44 Why, of course," faltered Lydia.

44 That is n't enough."

44 Not enough ? "

" Not enough. You must walk with me because
you like to do so."

Lydia was silent.

44 Do you like to do so ? "

44 1 can't answer you," she said, releasing her
hand from him.

44 It was not fair to ask you. What I wish to do
is to restore the original status. You have kept
your engagement to walk with me, and your con-
science is clear. Now, Miss Blood, may I have
your company for a little stroll over the deck of the
Aroostook ? " He made her another very low bow.

44 What must I say ? " asked Lydia, joyously.

44 That depends upon whether you consent. If
you consent, you must say, 4 1 shall be very glad.' "

44 And if I don't ? "

44 Oh, I can't put any such decision into words."

Lydia mused a moment. " I shall be very glad,"
me said, and put her hand again into the arm bt
tfiered.

160 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

As happens after such a passage they ware at
first silent, while they walked up and down.

" If this fine weather holds," said Staniford, " and
you continue as obliging as you are to-night, you
3an Bay, when people ask you how you went to Eu«
lope, that you walked the greater part of the way
Shall you continue so obliging ? Will you walk
with me every fine night ? " pursued Staniford.

"Do you think I 'd better say so? " she asked,
with the joy still in her voice.

" Oh, I can't decide for you. I merely formulate
your decisions after you reach them, — if they 're
favorable."

" Well, then, what is this one ? "

" Is it favorable ? "

" You said you would formulate it." She laughed
again, and Staniford started as one does when a
nebulous association crystallizes into a distinctly re-
membered fact.

" What a curious laugh you have I " he said.
** It 's like a nun's laugh. Once in France I lodged
near the garden of a convent where the nuns kept
R girls' school, and I used to hear them laugh. You
never happened to be a nun, Miss Blood ? "

44 No, indeed I " cried Lydia, as if scandalized.

" Oh, I merely meant in some previous existence.
Of course, I did n't suppose there was a convent in
South Bradfield." He felt that the girl did not
i|uite like the little slight his irony cast upon South
Bradfield, or rather upon her for never having been

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 161

anywhere else. He hastened to say, " I 'm sure
that in the life before this you were of the South
lomewhere."

" Yes ? " said Lydia, interested and pleased again
M one must be in romantic talk about one's sell.
" Why do you think so ? "

He bent a little over toward her, so as to look
into the face she instinctively averted, while she
could not help glancing at him from the corner of
her eye. " You have the color and the light of the
South," he said. " When you get to Italy, you
will live in a perpetual mystification. You will go
about in a dream of some self of yours that was
native there in other days. You will find yourself
retrospectively related to the olive faces and the
dark eyes you meet ; you will recognize sisters and
cousins in the patrician fadies when you see their
portraits in the palaces where you used to live in
auch state."

Staniford spiced his flatteries with open bur-
lesque ; the girl entered into his fantastic humor.
u But if I was a nun ? " she asked, gayly.

" Oh, I forgot. You were a nun. There was a
nun in Venice once, about two hundred years ago,
when you lived there, and a young English lord
who was passing through the town was taken if}
the convent to hear her sing ; for she was not only
of 'an admirable beauty,' as he says, but sang * ex
Jremely well. She sang to him through the grat-
ug of the convent, and when she stopped he said*

162 THE LADY OF THE AJtOOSTOOK.

Die whensoever you will, you need to changf
neither voice nor face to be an angel ! ' Do you
think — do you dimly recollect anything that makea
you think — it might — Consider carefully : tht
Hinging extremely well, and " — He leant ove*
fcgain, and looked up into her face, which again she
oould not wholly withdraw.

"No, no ! " she said, still in his mood.

" Well, you must allow it was a pretty speech."

" Perhaps," said Lydia, with sudden gravity, in
which there seemed to Staniford a tender insinua-
tion of reproach, " he was laughing at her."

" If he was, he was properly punished. He went
on to Rome, and when he came back to Venice the
beautiful nun was dead. He thought that his words
* seemed fatal.' Do you suppose it would kill yon
now to be jested with ? "

** I don't think people like it generally."

" Why, Miss Blood, you are intense ! "

" I don't know what you mean by that," said
Lydia.

" You like to take things seriously. You can't
bear to think that people are not the least in ear-
nest, even when they least seem HO."

"Yes," said the girl, thoughtfully, "perhaps
that 's true. Should you like to be made fan of,
yourself ? "

" I should n't mind it, T fancy, though it would
depend a, great denl upon who made fun of me. J
that women always laugh at men, — *i

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 163

their clumsiness, their want of tact, the fit of their
tlothes."

" I don't know. I should not do that with any
one I " —

"You liked? Oh, none of them Jo!" oriei
Stamford.

** I was not going to say that," faltered the girl

" What were you going to say ? "

She waited a moment. " Yes, I was going to
gay that," she assented with a sigh of helpless ve-
racity. " What makes you laugh ? " she asked, in
distress.

" Something I like. I 'm different from you : I
laugh at what I like ; I like your truthfulness, —
it 's charming."

" I did n't know that truth need be charming."

"It had better be, in women, if it 's to keep even
with the other thing." Lydia seemed shocked ;
ihe made a faint, involuntary motion to withdraw
her hand, but he closed his arm upon it. " Don't
condemn me for thinking that fibbing is charming,
I should n't like it at all in you. Should you in
me?"

" I should n't in any one," said Lydia.

" Then what is it you dislike in me ? " he sud-
denly demanded.

" I did n't say that I disliked anything in you/'

** But you have made fun of something in me ? '

"No, no!"

•* Thon it was n't the stirring of a guilty com,

164 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

science when you asked me whether I should likf
to be made fun of ? I took it for granted you *d
been doing it."

"You are very suspicious."

" Yes ; and what else ? "

M Oh, you like to know just what every one
thinks and feels."

" Go on ! " cried Stamford. " Analyze me, form
nlate me I "

" That 's all."

"All I come to?"

" All I have to say."

" That 's very little. Now, I '11 begin on you.
You don't care what people think or feel."

" Oh, yes, I do. I care too much."

" Do you care what I think ? "

" Yes."

" Then I think you 're too unsuspicious."

" Ought I to suspect somebody ? " she askod,
lightly.

" Oh, that 's the way with all your sex. One
asks you to be suspicious, and you ask whom you
shall suspect. You can do nothing in the abstract.
I should like to be suspicious for you. Will you
let me?"

" Oh, yes, if you like to be."

"Thanks. I shall be terribly vigilant, — a per-
'rct dragon. And you really invest me witi
authority ? "

THE LADY OP THE AROOSTOOK. 166

" That 's charming." Staniford drew a long
weath. After a space of musing, he said, "1
thought I should be able to begin by attacking
iome one else, but I must commence at home, and
denounce myself as quite unworthy of walking to
•nd fro, and talking nonsense to you. You moat
beware of me, Miss Blood."

" Why ? " asked the girl.

" I am very narrow-minded and prejudiced, and
I have violent antipathies. I should n't be able to
do justice to any one I disliked."

" I think that 's the trouble with all of us," said
Lydia.

" Oh, but only in degree. I should not allow, if
I could help it, a man whom I thought shabby, and
coarse at heart, the privilege of speaking to any
one I valued, — to my sister, for instance. It
would shock me to find her have any taste in com-
mon with such a man, or amused by him. Don't
you understand ? "

" Yes," said Lydia. It seemed to him as if by
gome infinitely subtle and unconscious afBnition
she relaxed toward him as they walked. This waa
incomparably sweet and charming to Staniford, —
too sweet as recognition of his protecting friend
ship to be questioned as anything else. He felt
Bare that she had taken his meaning, and he rested
content from further trouble in regard to what it
would have been impossible to express. Her tacit
•onfidence touched a kindred spring in him, and ha

166 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

began to talk to her of himself: not of his charao
ter or opinions, — they had already gone over them.
—•but of his past life, and his future. Theii
strangeness to her gave certain well-worn topics
novelty, and the familiar project of a pastoral ca-
reer in the far West invested itself with a color of
romance which it had not worn before. She tried
to remember, at his urgence, something about her
ohildhood in California ; and she told him a great
deal more about South Bradfield. She described
its characters and customs, and, from no vantage-
ground or stand-point but her native feeling of their
oddity, and what seemed her sympathy with him,
made him see them as one might whose life had
not been passed among them. Then they began to
compare their own traits, and amused themselves
to find how many they had in common. Staniford
i elated a singular experience of his on a former
voyage to Europe, when he dreamed of a collision,
and woke to hear a great trampling and uproar on
deck, which afterwards turned out to have been
caused by their bare escape from running into an
iceberg. She said that she had had strange
dreams, too, but mostly when she was a little girl .
once she had had a presentiment that troubled her,
but it did not come true. They both said they did
not believe in such things, and agreed that it was
only people's love of mystery that kept them no-
iij-ed. He permitted himself to help her, with hia
disengaged haM, to draw her shawl closer about

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 16?

ihe shoulder that was away from him. He gave
the action a philosophical and impersonal character
by saying immediately afterwards : " The sea is
really the only mystery left us, and that will never
be explored. They circumnavigate the whole
globe," — here he put the gathered shawl into the
fingers which she stretched through his arm to take
it, and she said, " Oh, thank you ! " — " but they
don't describe the sea. War and plague and fam-
ine submit to the ameliorations of science," — the
closely drawn shawl pressed her against his shoul-
der ; his mind wandered ; he hardly knew what he
was saying, — " but the one utterly inexorable ca-
lamity — the same now as when the first sail was
Bpread — is a shipwreck."

" Yes," she said, with a deep inspiration. And
now they walked back and forth in silence broken
only by a casual word or desultory phrase. Once
Staniford had thought the conditions of these prom •
enades perilously suggestive of love-making ; an-
other time he had blamed himself for not thtnk-
.ng of this; now he neither thought nor blamed
himself for not thinking. The fact justified itself,
is if it had been the one perfectly right and wise
thing in a world where all else might be questioned.

" Is n't it pretty late ? " she asked, at last.

*' If you 're tired, we '11 sit down," he said.

" What time is it ? " she persisted.

'Must I 'ook?" he pleaded. They went to a
tin tern, and ho took out his watch and sprang the

168 THE LADT OF THE AROOSTOOK.

3ase open. " Look ! " he said. " I sacrifice myseli
on the altar of truth." They bent their heads low
together over the watch ; it was not easy to make
out the time. " It 's nine o'clock," said Staniford.

" It can't be ; it was half past when I came up,"
answered Lydia.

" One hand 's at twelve and the other at nine,"
he said, conclusively.

" Oh, then it 's a quarter to twelve." She caught
away her hand from his arm, and fled to the gang-
way. " I did n't dream it was so late."

The pleasure which her confession brought to hia
face faded at sight of Hicks, who was turning the
last pages of a novel by the cabin lamp, as he fol-
lowed Lydia in. It was the book that Staniford
had given her.

" Hullo I " said Hicks, with companionable ease,
looking up at her. "Been having quite a tramp."

She did not seem troubled by the familiarity of
in address that incensed Staniford almost to the
point of taking Hicks fiorn his seat, and tossing
him to the other end of the cabin. " Oh, you 've
unished my book," she said. " You must tell me
how you like it, to-morrow."

" I doubt it," said Hicks. " I 'm going to be
seasick to-morrow. The captain 's been shaking his
head over fche barometer and powwowing with the
6rst officer. Something's up, and I guess it's a
gale. Good-by ; I shan't see you again for a week

V 80."

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 169

He nodded jocosely to Lydia, and dropped hia
eyes again to his book, ignoring Staniford's pres>
fence. The latter stood a moment breathing quick
then he controlled himself and went into his room.
His coming roused Dunham, who looked up from
his pillow. " What time is it?" he asked, stupidly

" Twelve," said Staniford.

" Had a pleasant walk ? "

u If you still think," said Staniford, savagely.
" that she 's painfully interested in you, you can
make your mind easy. She does n't care for eithei
of us."

"Either of us?" echoed Dunham. He roused
himself.

** Oh, go to sleep; go to sleep 2 " cried Staniford

XV

TflU foreboded storm did not come so soon as .iaa
been feared, but the beautiful weather which bad
lasted so long was lost in a thickened sky and a sul-
len sea. The weather had changed with Stamford,
too. The morning after the events last celebrated,
he did not respond to the glance which Lydia
gave him when they met, and he hardened his
heart to her surprise, and shunned being alone with
her. He would not admit to himself any reason
for his attitude, and he could not have explained to
her the mystery that at first visibly grieved her,
and then seemed merely to benumb her. But the
moment came when he ceased to take a certain
cruel pleasure in it, and he approached her one
morning on deck, where she stood holding fast to
the railing where she usually sat, and said, as if
there had been no interval of estrangement between,
them, but still coldly, " We have had our last walk
»or the present, Miss Blood. I hope you will
grieve a little for my loss."

She turned on him a look that cut him to the
heart, with what he fancied its reproach and ita
wronder. She did not reply at once, and then ah*
iid not reply to his hinted question.

" Mr. Staniford," she began. It was the second

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 171

time he bad heard her pronounce his name ; ha
distinctly remembered the first.

"Well?" he said.

" I want to speak to you about lending that
book to Mr. Hicks. I ought to have asked you
first."

" Oh, no," said Stamford. " It was yours."

44 You ga\re it to me," she returned.

" Well, then, it was yours, — to keep, to lend, to
throw away."

" And you did n't mind my lending it to him ? "
ahe pursued. " I " —

She stopped, and Staniford hesitated, too. Then
he said, " I didn't dislike your lending it; I dis-
liked his having it. I will acknowledge that."

She looked up at him as if she were going to
speak, but checked herself, and glanced away. The
ship was plunging heavily, and the livid waves
were racing before the wind. The horizon was lit
with a yellow brightness in the quarter to which
she turned, and a pallid gleam defined her profile.
Captain Jermess was walking fretfully to and fro ;
be glanced now at the yellow glare, and now cast
his eye aloft at the shortened sail. While Stam-
ford stood questioning whether she meant to say
anything more, or whether, having discharged her
conscience of an imagined offense, she had now
reached one of her final, precipitous silences, Cap-
tain Jenness suddenly approached them, and said to
niui, " I guess you 'd better go below with Mia*

172 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

The storm that followed had its hazards, but
Staniford's consciousness was confined to its discom-
forts. The day came, and then the dark came, and
both in due course went, and came again. Where
he lay in his berth, and whirled and swung, and
rose and sank, as lonely as a planetary fragment
tossing in space, he heard the noises of the life with-
out. Amidst the straining of the ship, which was
like the sharp sweep of a thunder-shower on the
deck overhead, there plunged at irregular intervals
the wild trample of heavily-booted feet, and now
and then the voices of the crew answering the
shouted orders made themselves hollowly audible.
In the cabin there was talking, and sometimes even
laughing. Sometimes he heard the click of knives
and forks, the sardonic rattle of crockery. After
the first insane feeling that somehow he must get
ashore and escape from his torment, he hardened
himself to it through an immense contempt, equally
insane, for the stupidity of the sea, its insensate
nproar, its blind and ridiculous and cruel mischiev-
ousness. Except for this delirious scorn he was a
surface of j/jrfect passivity.

Dunham, after a day of prostration, had risent
and had perhaps shortened his anguish by his reso-
kUtion. He had since taken up his quarters on a
locker in the cabin ; he looked in now and then
upon Staniford, with a cup of tea, or a suggestion
of something light to eat ; once he even dared to
boast of the sublimity of the ocean. Stamf ;>rd

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 173

•tared at him with eyes of lack-lustre indifference,
and waited for him to be gone. But he lingered to
say, " You would laugh to see what a sea-bird our
lady is I She has n't been sick a minute. And
I licks, you '11 be glad to know, is behaving himself
Tery well. Really, I don't think we 've done the
fellow justice. I think you 've overshadowed him,
and that he 's needed your absence to show himself
to advantage."

Staniford disdained any comment on this except
a fierce " Humph ! " and dismissed Dunham by
turning his face to the wall. He refused to think
of what he had said. He lay still and suffered in-
definitely, and no longer waited for the end of the
storm. There had been times when he thought
with acquiescence of going to the bottom, as a prob-
able conclusion ; now he did not expect anything.
At last, one night, he felt by inexpressibly minute
degrees something that seemed surcease ot his mis-
ery. It might have been the end of all things, for
all he cared ; but as the lull deepened, he slept
without knowing what it was, and when he woke
m the morning he found the Aroostook at anchor
in smooth water.

She was lying in the roads at Gibraltar, and be-
tore her towered the embattled rock. He crawled
on deck after a while. The captain was going
%shore, and had asked such of his passengers as
uked, to go with him and see the place. When
Staniford appeared, Dunham was loyally refusing

174 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

to leave his friend till he was fairly on foot. At
light of him they suspended their question long
enough to welcome him back to animation, with the
patronage with which well people hail a convalefr
cent, Lydia looked across the estrangement of the
past days with a sort of inquiry, and Hicks chose
fco come forward and accept a cold touch of the
hand from him. Staniford saw, with languid ob-
servance, that Lydia was very fresh and bright ;
she was already equipped for the expedition, and
could never have had any doubt in her mind as
to going. She had on a pretty walking dress
which he had not seen before, and a hat with the
rim struck sharply upward behind, and her masses
of dense, dull black hair pulled up and fastened
somewhere on the top of her head. Her eyes shyly
sparkled under the abrupt descent of the hat-brim
over her forehead.

His contemptuous rejection of the character of
invalid prevailed with Dunham ; and Staniford
walked to another part of the ship, to cut short the
talk about himself, and saw them row away.

" Well, you 've had a pretty tough time, they
•ay," said the second mate, lounging near him.
M I don't see any fun in seasickness myself"

" It 's a ridiculous sort of misery," said Stani
toid.

" I hope we shan't have anything worse on board
when that chap gets back. The old man thinks ha
tan keep an eye on him." The mate was looking
aftor the boat.

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 175

u The captain says he has n't any money," Stam-
ford remarked carelessly. The mate went away
without saying anything more, and Staniford re-
turned to the cabin, where he beheld without abhor-
rence the preparations for his breakfast. But he
had not a great appetite, in spite of his long fast.
He found himself rather light-headed, and canae
on deck again after a while, and stretched himself
ip Hicks's steamer chair, where Lydia usually saj;
in it. He fell into a dull, despairing reverie, in
which he blamed himself for not having been more
explicit with her. He had merely expressed his
dislike of Hicks ; but expressed without reasons it
was a groundless dislike, which she had evidently
not understood, or had not cared to heed ; and since
that night, now so far away, when he had spoken
to her, he had done everything he could to harden
her against himself. He had treated her with a
stupid cruelty, which a girl like her would resent
to the last ; he had forced her to take refuge in the
politeness of a man from whom he was trying to
keep her.

His heart paused when he saw the boat return-
ing in the afternoon without Hicks. The others
reported that they had separated before dinner, and
that they had not seen him since, though Captain
Jenness had spent an hour trying to look him up
before starting back to the ship. The captain wore
% look of guilty responsibility, mingled with intense
txasperation, the two combining in as much hag*

176 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

gardness as his cheerful visage could express. " H
he 's here by six o'clock," he said, grimly, " all weJl
and good. If not, the Aroostook sails, any way."

Lydia crept timidly below. Stamford complexly
raged to see that the anxiety about Hicks had
blighted the joy of the day for her.

" How the deuce could he get about without any
money ? " he demanded of Dunham, as soon as they
were alone.

Dunham vainly struggled to look him in the eye.
" Staniford," he faltered, with much more culpa-
bility than some criminals would confess a murder,
*' I lent him five dollars I "

" You lent him five dollars I " gasped Staniford.

" Yes," replied Dunham, miserably ; " he got me
aside, and asked me for it. What could I do?
What would you have done yourself ? "

Staniford made no answer. He walked some
paces away, and then returned to where Dunham
stood helpless. " He 's lying about there dead-
drunk, somewhere, I suppose. By Heaven, I could
almost wish he was. He could n't come back, then,
at any rate."

The time lagged along toward the moment ap-
pointed by the captain, and the preparations for the
ship's departure were well advanced, when a boat
was seen putting out from shore with two rowera,
fend rapidly approaching the Aroostook. In the
item, as it drew nearer, the familiar figure of Hick*
lueovered itself in the act of waving a handkerchief,

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 177

He scrambled up the side of the ship in excellent
ipirits, and gave Dunham a detailed account of his
adventures since they had parted. As always hap-
pens with such scapegraces, he seemed to have had
A good time, however he had spoiled the pleasure
of ihe others. At tea, when Lydia had gone away,
be clapped down a sovereign near Dunham's plate.
** Your five dollars," he said.

" Why, how " — Dunham began.

" How did I get on without it ? My dear boy, I
iold my watch ! A ship's time is worth no more
than a setting hen's, — eh, captain? — and why
take note of it ? Besides, I always like to pay my
debts promptly : there 's nothing mean about me.
I 'm not going ashore again without my pocket-
book, I can tell you." He winked shamelessly at
Captain Jenness. " If you had n't been along,
Dunham, I could n't have made a raise, I sup-
pose. You would n't have lent me five dollars,
Captain Jenness."

" No, I would n't," said the captain, bluntly.

" And I believe you 'd have sailed without me, if
I had n't got back on time."

" I would," said the captain, as before.

Hicks threw back his head, and laughed. Prob-
ably no human being had ever before made so free
with Captain Jenness at his own table ; but the cap-
tain must have felt that this contumacy was part of
the general risk which he had taken in taking Hicks,
Mid he contented himself with maintaining a silence
u

L78 THE LADY OF THE AEOOSTOOK.

that would have appalled a less audacious spirit,
Hicks's gayety, however, was not to be quelled in
that way.

" Gibraltar would n't be a bad place to put up at
for a while," he said. " Lots of good fellows amon
the officers, they say, and fun going all the while
First-class gunning in the Cork Woods at St. Roque
If it had n't been for the res angusta domi, — yon
know what I mean, captain, — I should have let you
get along with your old dug-out, as the gentleman
in the water said to Noah." His hilarity had some-
thing alarmingly knowing in it ; there was a wild
nesa in the pleasure with which he bearded the cap-
tain, like that of a man in his first cups ; yet he had
not been drinking. He played round the captain's
knowledge of the sanative destitution in which he
was making the voyage with mocking recurrence;
but he took himself off to bed early, and the captain
oame through his trials with unimpaired temper.
Dunham disappeared not long afterwards; and Stam-
ford's vague hope that Lydia might be going on
deck to watch the lights of the town die out behind
the ship as they sailed away was disappointed.
The second mate made a point of lounging near
bim where he sat alone in their wonted place.

" Well," he said, " he did come back sober."

" Yes," said Staniford.

" Next to not comin' back at all," the mate eon-
ti&ned, " I suppose it was the best thing he could
to." He lounged away. Neither his voice nor hif

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 179

tfcanner had that quality of disappointment which
characterizes those who have mistakenly prophesied
evil. Staniford had a mind to call him back, and
ask him what he meant ; but he refrained, and he
went to bed at last resolved to unburden himself of
the whole Hicks business once for all. He felt that
he had had quite enough of it, both in the aba tract
Mid in its relation to Lydia.

XVI

HICKS did not join the others at breakfast
They talked of what Lydia had seen at Gibral-
tar, where Staniford had been on a former voyage.
Dunham had made it a matter of conscience to
know all about it beforehand from his guide-books,
and had risen early that morning to correct his
science by his experience in a long entry in the
diary which he was keeping for Miss Hibbard.
The captain had the true sea-farer's ignorance, and
was amused at the things reported by his passen-
gers of a place where he had been ashore so often ;
Hicks's absence doubtless relieved him, but he did
not comment on the cabin-boy's announcement that
he was still asleep, except to order him let alone.

They were seated at their one o'clock dinner be-
fore the recluse made any sign. Then he gavo note
of his continued existence by bumping and thump-
ing sounds within his state-room, as if some one
were dressing there in a heavy sea.

" Mr. Hicks seems to be taking his rough weathef
retrospectively," said Staniford, with rather trema-
'ous humor.

The door was flung open, and Hicks reeled out,
staying himself by the door-knob. Even before h«
appeared, a reek of strong waters had preceded

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 181

niin. He must have been drinking all night. Hig
face was flushed, and his eyes were bloodshot. He
had no collar on ; but he wore a cravat and other-
wise he was accurately and even fastidiously dressed,
He balanced himself by the door-knob, and meau-
nred the distance he had to make before reaching
his place at the table, smiling, and waving a del-
icate handkerchief which he held in his hand :
'* Spilt c'logne, tryin' to scent my hie — handker-
chief. Makes deuced bad smell — too much c'logne ;
smells — alcoholic. Thorn's, bear a hand, 's good
flow. No ? All right, go on with your waitin'.
B-io — business b'fore pleasure, 's feller says.
Play it alone, I guess."

The boy had shrunk back in dismay, and Hicka
contrived to reach his place by one of those precip-
itate dashes with which drunken men attain a
point, when the luck is with them. He looked
smilingly round the circle of faces. Staniford and
the captain exchanged threatening looks of intel-
ligence, while Mr. Watterson and Dunham subor-
dinately waited their motion. But the advantage,
as in such cases, was on the side of Hicks. He
knew it, with a drunkard's subtlety, and was at his
«>ase.

" No app'tite, friends ; but thought I 'd come
out, keep you from reeling lonesome." He laughed
and hiccuped, and smiled upon them all. " Well,
eap'n," he continued, " 'covered from 'tigues dayt
uterday ? You look blooming 's usual. Thom'a,

182 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

pass the — pass the — victuals lively, my son, and
fetch along coffee soon. Some the friends up late,
and want their coffee. Nothing like coffee, carry
off 'fee's." He winked to the men, all round ; and
then added, to Lydia : " Sorry see you in this state
— I mean, sorry see me — Can 't make it that
way either ; up stump on both routes. What I
mean is, sorry had n't coffee first. But you Ve all
right — all right ! Like see anybody offer you dis-
respec', 'n I 'm around. Tha 's all."

Till he addressed her, Lydia had remained mo-
tionless, first with bewilderment, and then with
open abhorrence. She could hardly have seen in
South Bradfield a man who had been drinking.
Even in haying, or other sharpest stress of farm-
work, our farmer and his men stay themselves with
nothing stronger than molasses- water, or, in extreme
cases, cider with a little corn soaked in it ; and the
Mill Village, where she had taught school, was
under the iron rule of a local vote for prohibition.
She stared in stupefaction at Hicks's heated, fooJ-
ish face ; she started at his wild movements, and
listened with dawning intelligence to his hiccup-
broken speech, with its thickened sibilants and its
wandering emphasis. When he turned to her, and
accompanied his words with a reassuring gesture,
ghe recoiled, and as il breaking an ugly fascination
ihe gave a low, shuddering cry, and looked at Statt
iford.

" Thomas,' he said, " Miss Blood was going to
take her dessert on deck to-day. Dunham ? "

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 183

Dunham sj.rang to his feet, and led her out of
the cabin.

The movement met Hicks's approval. " Tha 's
right ; 'sert on deck, 'joy landscape and pudding to-
gether, — Rhine steamer style. All right. Be up
there m'self soon 's I get my coffee." He winked
again with drunken sharpness. " I know wha '•
what. Be up there m'self, 'n a minute."

" If you offer to go up," said Staniford, in a low
voice, as soon as Lydia was out of the way, " I '11
knock you down ! "

" Captain," said Mr. Watterson, venturing, per-
haps for the first time in his whole maritime his-
tory, upon a suggestion to his superior officer,
" shall I clap him in irons ? "

" Clap him in irons ! " roared Captain Jenness.
" Clap him in bed ! Look here, you ! " He turned
to Hicks, but the latter, who had been bristling
at Staniford's threat, now relaxed in a crowing
laugh : —

" Tha 's right, captain. Irons no go, 'cept in case
mutiny ; bed perfectly legal 't all times. Bed is
good. But trouble is t' enforce it."

" Where 'a your bottle ? " demanded the captaiu>
rising from the seat in which a paralysis of fury
T-ad kept him hitherto. " I want your bottle."

" Oh, bottle 's all right ! Bottle 's under pillow.
Empty, — empty 's Jonah's gourd ; 'nother sea-lai-
ing party, — Jonah. S'cure the shadow ere t&«
lab-tanco fade. Drunk all the brandy, old boy

184 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

Bottle 's a canteen ; 'vantage of military port t*
houseless stranger. Brought the brandy on bourd
under my coat ; nobody noticed, — so glad get me
back. Prodigal son's return, — fatted calf undejf
his coat."

The reprobate ended his boastful confession with
another burst of hiccuping, and Stamford helplessly
laughed.

" Do me proud," said Hicks. " Proud, I 'sure
you. Gentleman, every time, Stanny. Know good
thing when you see it — hear it, I mean."

" Look here, Hicks," said Staniford, choosing to
make friends with the mammon of unrighteousness,
if any good end might be gained by it. " You know
you 're drunk, and you 're not fit to be about. Go
back to bed, that 's a good fellow ; and come out
again, when you 're all right. You don't want to
do anything you '11 be sorry for."

" No, no I No, you don't, Stanny. Coffee '11
make me all right. Coffee always does. Coffee —
Heaven's lash besh gift to man. 'Scovered subse-
subs'quently to grape. See ? Comes after claret
in course of nature. Captain doesn't understand
the 'lusion. All right, captain. Little learning
dangerous thing." He turned sharply on Mr. Wat-
terson, who had remained inertly in his place.
" Put me in irons, heh ! You put me in irons, you
old Triton. Put me in irons, will you ? " His aud-
ible mood was passing ; before one could say so, it
was past. He was meditating means of active of

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 185

fense. He gathered up the carving-knife and fork,
and held them close under Mr. Watterson's nosa
" Smell that ! " he said, and frowned as darkly aa
a man of so little eyebrow could.

At this senseless defiance Staniford, in spite of
himself, broke into another laugh, and even Captain
Jenness grinned. Mr. Watterson sat with his head
drawn as far back as possible, and with his nose
wrinkled at the affront offered it. " Captain," he
screamed, appealing even in this extremity to Ma
superior, " shall I fetch him one f "

" No, no I " cried Staniford, springing from his
chair ; " don't hit him ! He is n't responsible. Let 'a
get him into his room."

" Fetch me one, heh ? " said Hicks, rising, with
dignity, and beginning to turn up his cuffs. " One !
It '11 take more than one, fetch me. Stan' up, '£
you 're man enough." He was squaring at Mr.
Watterson, when he detected signs of strategic ap-
proach in Staniford and Captain Jenness. He gave
a wild laugh, and shrank into a corner. " No I No,
you don't, boys," he said.

They continued their advance, one on either side,
and reinforced by Mr. Watterson hemmed him in.
The drunken man has the advantage of his sober
brother in never seeming to be on the alert. Hicks
apparently entered into the humor of the affair.
" Sur-hic-surrender ! " he said, with a smile in his
heavy eyes. He darted under the extended arms of
oaptain Jenness, who was leading the centre of the

186 THE LADY OP THE AROOSTOOK.

advance, and before either wing could touch him be
was up the gangway and on the deck.

Captain Jenness indulged one of those expres-
sions, very rare with him, which are supposed to b«
forgiven to good men in moments of extreme per-
plexity, and Mr. Watterson profited by the prec-
edent to unburden his heart in a paraphrase of
the captain's language. Stamford's laugh had as
much cursing in it as their profanity.

He mechanically followed Hicks to the deck,
prepared to renew the attempt for his capture there.
But Hicks had not stopped near Dunham and Lydia.
He had gone forward on the other side of the ship,
and was leaning quietly on the rail, and looking
into the sea. Staniford paused irresolute for a
moment, and then sat down beside Lydia, and they
all tried to feign that nothing unpleasant had hap-
pened, or was still impending. But their talk had
the wandering inconclusiveness which was inevita-
ble, and the eyes of each from time to time fur-
tively turned toward Hicks.

For half an hour he hardly changed his position.
At the end of that time, they found him looking
intently at them ; and presently he began to work
slowly back to the waist of the ship, but kept to
his own side. He was met on the way by the seo*
ond mate, when nearly opposite where they sat.

" Ain't you pretty comfortable where you are ? '
*hey heard the mate asking. " Guess I would n'l
fo aft any further just yet.'

THE LADY OF THE ABOOSTOOK. 187

" You 're all right, Mason," Hicks answered.
K Going below — down cellar, 's feller says ; go to
bed."

" Well, that 's a pious idea," said the mate.
** You could n't do better than that. I '11 lend you
a hand."

*' Don't care 'f I do," responded Hicks, taking
the mate's proffered arm. But he really seemed to
need it very little ; he walked perfectly well, and
he did not look across at the others again.

At the head of the gangway he encountered Cap-
tain Jenness and Mr. Watterson, who had completed
the perquisition they had remained to make in his
state-room. Mr. Watterson came up empty-handed ;
but the captain bore the canteen in which the com-
mon enemy had been so artfully conveyed on board.
He walked, darkly scowling, to the rail, and flung
the canteen into the sea. Hicke, who had saluted
his appearance with a glare as savage as his own,
yielded to his whimsical sense of the futility of this
Tengeance. He gave his fleering, drunken laugh
" Good old boy, Captain Jenness. Means well —
means well. But lacks — lacks — forecast. Pounds
fi cure, but no prevention. Not much on bite, but
death on bark. Hell ? " He waggled his hand
offensively at the captain, and disappeared, loosely
floundering down the cabin stairs, holding hard by
the hand-rail, and fumbling round with his foot for
the steps before he put it down.

** AM soon aa he 's in his room, Mr. Watterao«v

188 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

you "lock him in." The captain handed his jfBcei
a key, and walked away forward, with a haug-dog
look on his kindly face, which he kept averted from
his passengers.

The sound of Hicks's descent had hardly ceased
when clapping and knocking noises were heard
again, and the face of the troublesome little wretch
reappeared. He waved Mr. Watterson aside with
his left hand, and in default of specific orders the
latter allowed him to mount to the deck again.
Hicks stayed himself a moment, and lurched to
where Staniford and Dunham sat with Lydia.

" What I wish say Miss Blood is," he began, —
" what I wish say is, peculiar circumstances make
no difference with man if man 's gentleman. What
I say is, everybody 'spec's — What I say is, cir-
cumstances don't alter cases ; lady 's a lady —
What I want do is beg you fellows' pardon — beg
her pardon — if anything I said that firs' morn-
ing " —

" Go away ! " cried Staniford, beginning to whiten
round the nostrils. " Hold your tongue ! "

Hicks fell back a pace, and looked at him with
Che odd effect of now seeing him for the first time.
" What you want ? " he asked. " What you mean ?
Slingin' criticism ever since you came on this ship I
What you mean by it ? Heh ? What you mean ? "

Staniford rose, and Lydia gave a start. He cast
An angry look at her. " Do you think I 'd hurt
him ? " he demanded.

THE LADY OF THE AKOOSTOOK. 189

Hicks went on : «* Sorry, very sorry, 'larm a lady,
— specially lady we all respec'. But this particular
affair. Touch — touches my honor. \ou said," he
continued, " 'f I came on deck, you 'd knock me down.
Why don't you do it ? Wha 's the matter with
you ? Sling criticism ever since you been on ship,
and 'fraid do it ! 'Fraid, you hear ? 'F-ic — 'fraid,
I say." Staniford slowly walked away forward, and
Hicks followed him, threatening him with word and
gesture. Now and then Staniford thrust him a^ide,
and addressed him some expostulation, and Hicks
laughed and submitted. Then, after a silent ex-
cursion to the other side .of the ship, he would re-
turn and renew his one-sided quarrel. Staniford
seemed to forbid the interference of the crew, and
alternately soothed and baffled his tedious adver-
sary, who could still be heard accusing him of sling-
ing criticism, and challenging him to combat. He
leaned with his back to the rail, and now looked
quietly into Hicks's crazy face, when the latter
paused in front of him, and now looked down with
a worried, wearied air. At last he crossed to the
other side, and began to come aft again.

" Mr. Dunham ! " cried Lydia, starting up. " I
know what Mr. Staniford wants to do. He wants
to keep him away from me. Let me go down to
the cabin. 1 can't walk ; please help me ! " Her
eyes were full of tears, and the hand trembled that
the laid on Dunham's arm, b~t she controlled h«i

190 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOX.

He aoftly repressed her, while he intently watched
Btaniford. " No, no ! "

*» But he can't bear it much longer," she pleaded,
" A ad if he should" —

" Stamford would never strike him," said Dim-
ham, calmly. " Don't be afraid. Look I He *
coining back with him ; he 's trying to get him be-
low; they '11 shut him up there. That's the only
chance. Sit down, please." She dropped into her
seat, hid her eyes for an instant, and then fixed
them again on the two young men.

Hicks had got between Staniford and the rail.
He seized him by the arm, and, pulling him round,
suddenly struck at him. It was too much for hia
wavering balance : his feet shot from under him,
and he went backwards in a crooked whirl and tum-
ble, over the vessel's side.

Stanifoi-d uttered a cry of disgust and rage.
" Oh, you little brute ! " he shouted, and with what
seemed a single gesture he flung off his coat and the
iow shoes he wore, and leaped the railing after him.

The cry of " Man overboard ! " rang round the
»hip, and Captain Jenness's order, " Down with
your helm! Lower a boat, Mr. Mason!" came,
quick as it was, after the second mate had prepared
to let go ; and he and two of the men were in the
boat, and she was sliding from her davits, while the
Aroostook was coming up to the light wind and
•oeing headway.

When the boat touched the water, two head*

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 191

h»d appeared above the surface terribly far away.
" Hold on, for God's sake I We '11 be there in a
aecond."

" All right ! " Stamford's voice called back. " Be
qaick." The heads rose and sank with the undula-
tion of the water. The swift boat appeared tc
crawl.

By the time it reached the place where they had
been seen, the heads disappeared, and the men in
the boat seemed to be rowing blindly about. The
mate stood upright. Suddenly he dropped and
clutched at something over the boat's side. The
people on the ship could see three hands on her gun-
wale; a figure was pulled up into the boat, and
proved to be Hicks ; then Staniford, seizing the
gunwale with both hands, swung himself in.

A shout went up from the ship, and Staniford
waved his hand. Lydia waited where she hung
upon the rail, clutching it hard with her hands, till
the boat was along-side. Then from white she
turned fire-red, and ran below and locked herself in
bar room.

XVII

DUHHAM followed Staniford to their room, and
deiped him off with his wet clothes. He tried
to say something ideally fit in recognition of his
heroic act, and he articulated some bald common-
places of praise, and shook Stamford's clammy
hand. " Yes," said the latter, submitting ; " but
the difficulty about a thing of this sort is that you
don't know whether you have n't been an ass. It
has been pawed over so much by the romancers that
you don't feel like a hero in real life, but a hero of
fiction. I 've a notion that Hicks and I looked
rather ridiculous going over the ship's side ; I know
we did, coming back. No man can reveal his great-
ness of soul in wet clothes. Did Miss Blood
laugh ? "

" Staniford I " said Dunham, in an accent of re-
proach. " You do her great injustice. She felt
what you had done in the way you would wish, —
if you cared."

" What did she say? " asked Stamford, quickly.

«* Nothing. But " —

44 That 's an easy way of expressing one's admi-
ration of heroic behavior. I hope she '11 stick to
that line. I hope she won't feel it at all necessary
to My anything in recognition of my prowess ; il

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 193

would be extremely embarrassing. I 've got Hicks
back again, but I could n't stand any gratitude for
It. Not that I 'm ashamed of the performance.
Perhaps if it had been anybody but Hicks, I ihould
have waited for them to lower a boat. But Ilicka
had peculiar claims. You could n't let a man
you disliked so much welter round a great while.
Where is the poor old fellow ? Is he clothed and
in his right mind again ? "

" He seemed to be sober enough," said Dunham,
" when he came on board ; but I don't think he 's
out yet."

" We must let Thomas in to gather up this bath-
ing-suit," observed Staniford. " What a Newport-
ish flavor it gives the place ! " He was excited, and
in great gayety of spirits.

He and Dunham went out into the cabin, where
they found Captain Jenness pacing to and fro.
" Well, sir," he said, taking Staniford's hand, and
crossing his right with his left, so as to include Dun-
ham in his congratulations, " you ought to have
been a sailor ! " Then he added, as if the unquali-
fied praise might seem fulsome, " But if you 'd been
* Bailor, you would n't have tried a thing like that.
You 'd have had more sense. The chances were ten
to one against you."

Staniford laughed. " Was it so bad as that ? I
ihall begin to respect myself."

The captain did not answer, but his iron grip
ilosed hard upon Staniford's hand, and he frowned
11

194 THE LADY OF THE ABOOSTOOK.

in keen inspection of Hicks, who at that moment
came out of his state-room, looking pale and quite
sobered. Captain Jenness surveyed him from head
to foot, and then from foot to head, and pausing at
the level of his eyes he said, still holding Staniford
by the hand : " The trouble with a man aboard
ihip is that he can't turn a blackguard out-of-doors
just when he likes. The Aroostook puts in at Mes-
sina. You '11 be treated well till we get there, and
then if I find you on my vessel five minutes after
she comes to anchor, I '11 heave you overboard, and
I '11 take care that nobody jumps after you. Do
you hear ? And you won't find me doing any such
fool kindness as I did when I took you ou board,
soon again."

" Oh, I say, Captain Jenness," began Stanifoid.

" He 's all right," interrupted Hicks. " I 'm a
olackguard ; I know it; and I don't think I was
vrorth fishing up. But you 've done it, and I must
a't go back on you, I suppose." He lifted his poor,
weak, bad little face, and looked Staniford in the
lyes with a pathos that belied the slang of his
ipeech. The latter released his hand from Captain
Jenness and gave it to Hicks, who wrung it, as he
kept looking him in the eyes, while his lips twitched
pitifully, like a child's. The captain gave a quick
inort either of disgust or of sympathy, and turned
abruptly about and bundled himself up out of the
tttbin.

UI say I" exclaimed Staniford, "a cup of coffee

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 195

Irouldn't be bad, would it? Let 's have some cof-
fee, Thomas, about as quick as the cook can make
it," he added, as the boy came out from his state-
room with a lump of wet clothes in his hands.
" You wanted some coffee a little while ago," he
•aid to Hicks, who hung his head at the joke.

For the rest of the day Staniford was the hero of
the ship. The men looked at him from a distance,
and talked of him together. Mr. Watterson hung
about whenever Captain Jenness drew near him, as
if in the hope of overhearing some acceptable ex-
pression in which he could second his superior offi-
cer. Failing this, and being driven to despair,
44 Find the water pretty cold, sir?" he asked at
last ; and after that seemed to feel that he had dis-
charged his duty as well as might be under the ex-
traordinary circumstances.

The second mate, during the course of the after-
noon, contrived to pass near Staniford. " Why,
there wa' n't no need of your doing it," he said, in
A bated tone. " I could ha' had him out with the
boat, soon enough."

Staniford treasured up these meagre expressions
4 the general approbation, and would not have had
them different. From this time, within the nar
vow bounds that brought them all necessarily to-
gether in some sort, Hicks abolished himself aa
tteurly as possible. He chose often to join the sec-
Dad mate at meals, which Mr. Mason, in accordance
«\th the discipline of the ship, took apart both

196 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

from the crew and his superior officers. Mason
treated the voluntary outcast with a sort of sarcas-
tic compassion, as a man whose fallen state was not
without its points as a joke to the indifferent ob-
server, and yet might appeal to the pity of one who
knew such cases through the misery they inflicted.
Staniford heard him telling Hicks about his brother-
in-law, and dwelling upon the peculiar relief which
the appearance of his name in the mortality list
gave all concerned in him. Hicks listened in apa-
thetic patience and acquiescence ; but Staniford
thought that he enjoyed, as much as he could eujoy
anything, the second officer's frankness. For his
own part, he found that having made bold to keep
this man in the world he had assumed a curious re-
sponsibility towards him. It became his business to
show him that he was not shunned by his fellow-
creatures, to hearten and cheer him up. It waa
heavy work. Hicks with his joke was sometimes
odious company, but he was also sometimes amus-
ing ; without it, he was of a terribly dull conver-
sation. He accepted Staniford's friendliness too
meekly for good cornradery ; he let it add, appar-
ently, to his burden of gratitude, rather than I(»s8en
it. Staniford smoked with him, and told him sto-
riea ; he walked up and down with him, and made
% point of parading their good understanding, but
his spirits seemed to sink the lower. " Deuce take
aim I" mused his benefactor; "he's in love with
bar I " But he now had the satisfaction, such aa it

THE I.ADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 197

iras, of seeing that if he was in love he was quite
without hope. Lydia had never relented in her
abhorrence of Hicks since the day of his disgrace.
There seemed no scorn in her condemnation, but
neither was there any mercy. In her simple life
•he had kept unsophisticated the severe morality
of a child, and it was this that judged him, that
found him unpardonable and outlawed him. He
had never ventured to speak to her since that day,
and Staniford never saw her look at him except
when Hicks was not looking, and then with a re-
pulsion which was very curious. Staniford could
have pitied him, and might have interceded so far
as to set him nearer right in her eyes ; but he
felt that she avoided him, too ; there were no more
walks on the deck, no more readings in the cabin ;
the checker-board, which professed to be the His-
tory of England, In 2 Vols., remained a closed
book. The good companionship of a 'former time,
in which they had so often seemed like brothers
and sister, was gone. " Hicks has smashed our
Happy Family," Staniford said to Dunham, with
little pleasure in his joke. " Upon my word, I
think I had better have left him in the water."
Lydia kept a great deal in her own room ; some-
times when Staniford came down into the cabin ha
'uund her there, talking with Thomas of little
things that amuse children ; sometimes when he
irent on deck in the evening she would be there in
tar accustomed seat, and the second mate,

198 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

face and figure half averted, and staying himself
by one hand on the shrouds, would be telling her
•omething to which she listened with lifted chin
and attentive eyes. The mate would go away when
Stamford appeared, but that did not help matters,
for then Lydia went too. At table she said very
little ; she had the effect of placing herself mor
and more under the protection of the captain. The
golden age, when they had all laughed and jested
uo freely and fearlessly together, under her pretty
sovereignty, was past, and they seemed far dis-
persed in a common exile. Staniford imagined she
grew pale and thin ; he asked Dunham if he did
not see it, but Dunham had not observed. " I think
matters have taken a very desirable shape, socially,"
he said. " Miss Blood will reach her friends aa
fancy-free as she left home."

" Yes," Staniford assented vaguely ; " that 's the
great object."

After a while Dunham asked, " She 's never said
anything to you about your rescuing Hicks ? "

u Rescuing ? What rescuing ? They 'd have had
him out in another minute, any way," said Stani-
ford, fretfully. Then he brooded angrily upon the
subject : " But I can tell you what: considering all
the circumstances, she might very well have said
•ornething. It looks obtuse, or it looks hard. She
omst huve known that it all caine about through
my trying to keep him away from her."

" Oh, yes ; she knew that," said Dunham ; " gh«
of it at the time. But I thought " —

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 199

" Oh, she did I Then I think that it would be
tery little if she recognized the mere fact that
something had happened."

" Why, you said you hoped she would n't. You
•aid it would be embarrassing. You 're hard to
pleaue, Staniford."

"I shouldn't choose to have her speak for my
pleasure," Staniford returned. " But it argues a
dullness and coldness in her " —

" I don't believe she 's dull ; I don't believe she 'a
cold," said Dunham, warmly.

44 What do you believe she is ? '

44 Afraid."

44 Pshaw I " said Staniford.

The eve of their arrival at Messina, he discharged
one more duty by telling Hicks that he had better
come on to Trieste with them. " Captain Jennesa
asked me to speak to you about it," he said. " He
feels a little awkward, and thought I could open
the matter better."

" The captain 's all right," answered Hicks, with
unraftled humility, " but I 'd rather stop at Mea-
lina. I 'm going to get home as soon as I can, —
strike a bee-line."

44 Ix)ok here I " said Staniford, laying his hand
on his shoulder. 4' How are you going to manage
for money ? "

44 Monte di Pieta," replied Hicks. " I 've been
there before. Used to have most of my things iu
4ie care of the state when I was studying

200 THE LADT OF THE AROOSTOOK.

cine in Paris. I've got a lot of rings and trinkets
that '11 carry me through, with what 'B left of my
watch."

u Are you sure ? "

" Sure."

" Because you can draw on me, if you 're going to
be short."

*« Thanks," said Hicks. " There 's something I
should like to ask you," he added, after a moment.
u I see as well as you do that Miss Blood is n't the
same as she was before. I want to know — I can't
always be sure afterwards — whether I did or said
anything out of the way in her presence."

" You were drunk," said Stamford, frankly, " but
beyond that you were irreproachable, as regarded
Miss Blood. You were even exemplary."

" Yes, I know," said Hicks, with a joyless laugh.
" Sometimes it takes that turn. I don't think I
could stand it if I had shown her any disrespect.
fcShe 's a lady, — a perfect lady ; she 's the best girl
I ever saw."

" Hicks," said Staniford, presently, " I have n't
bored you in regard to that little foible of yours.
Are n't you going to try to do something about
it?"

" I 'm going home to get them to shut me up
•omewhere," answered Hicks. " But I doubt if any-
thing can be done. I Ve studied the thing ; I am
» doctor, — or I would be, if I were not a drunk
trd* — and I 've diagnosed the case pretty thor-

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 201

Highly. For three months or four months, now, I
ihall be all right. After that I shall go to the bad
for a few weeks ; and I '11 have to scramble bank tho
'test way I can. Nobody can help me. That wt«j§
the mistake this last time. I should n't have
wanted anything at Gibraltar if I could have had
my spree out at Boston. But I let them take me
before it was over, and ship me off. I thought I 'd
try it. Well, it was like a burning fire every
minute, all the way. I thought I should die. I
tried to get something from the sailors; I tried to
steal Gabriel's cooking-wine. When I got that
brandy in Gibraltar I was wild. Talk about hero-
ism ! I tell you it was superhuman, keeping that
canteen corked till night ! I was in hopes I could
get through it, — sleep it off, — and nobody be any
the wiser. But it would n't work. O Lord, Lord,
Lord!"

Hicks was as common a soul as could well be.
His conception of life was vulgar, and his experi-
ence of it was probably vulgar. He had a good
mind enough, with abundance of that humorous
brightness which may hereafter be found the moat
national quality of the Americans ; but his ideals
were pitiful, and the language of his heart was a
drolling slang. Yet his doom lifted him above his
low conditions, and made him tragic ; his despair
gave him the dignity of a mysterious expiation,
and set him apart with all those who suffer beyond
toman help. Without deceiving himself as to ttM

202 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

quality ot the man, Staniford felt awed by the dark
ness of his fate.

" Can't you try somehow to stand up against i^
and fight it off ? Your 're so young yet, it
i»n't " -

The wretched creature burst in to tears. " Oh,
try, — try ! You don't know what you 're talking
about. Don't you suppose I 've had reasons for try-
ing ? If you could see how my mother looks when
I come out of one of my drunks, — and my father,
poor old man ! It 's no use ; I tell you it 's no use.
I shall go just so long, and then I shall want it,
and will have it, unless they shut me up for life.
My God, I wish I was dead I Well ! " He rose from
the place where they had been sitting together, and
held out his hand to Staniford. " I 'm going to be
off in the morning before you 're out, and I '11 say
good-by now. 1 want you to keep this chair, and
give it to Miss Blood, for me, when you get to
Trieste."

" I will, Hicks," said Staniford, gently.

" 1 want her to know that I was ashamed of my-
self. I think she '11 like to know it."

tk I will say anything to her that you wish," re-
D-led Staniford.

" There 's nothing else. If ever you see a man
Irith my complaint fall overboard again, think
-wice before you jump after him."

He wrung Stamford's hand, and went below
•owing him with a dull remorse that he should ever

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 208

have hated Hicks, and that he could not quite like
him even now.

But he did his duty by him to the last. He rose
at dawn, and was on deck when Hicks went ovtw
the side into the boat which was to row him to the
steamer for Naples, lying at anchor not far off. lie
presently returned, to Staniford's surprise, and
scrambled up to the deck of the Aroostook. " The
steamer sails to-night," he said, " and perhaps I
could n't raise the money by that time. I wish
you 'd lend me ten napoleons. I '11 send 'em to you
from London. There 's my father's address : I 'in
going to telegraph to him." He handed Staniford
a card, and the latter went below for the coins.
" Thanks," said Hicks, when he reappeared with
them. " Send 'em to you where ? "

" Care Blumenthals', Venice. I 'm going to be
there some weeks."

In the gray morning light the lurid color of trag-
edy had faded out of Hicks. He was merely a
baddish-looking young fellow whom Staniford had
lent ten napoleons that he might not see again.
Staniford watched the steamer uneasily, both from
the Aroostook and from the shore, where he strolled
languidly about with Dunham part of the day.
When she sailed in the evening, he felt that Hicks'i
tboance was worth twice the money.

XVIII

THE young men did not come back to the ship m
aight, but went to a hotel, for the greater conven-
ience of seeing the city. They had talked of offer-
ing to show Lydia about, but their talk had not
ended in anything. Vexed with himself to be
vexed at such a thing, Staniford at the bottom of
his heart still had a soreness which the constant
sight of her irritated. It was in vain that he said
there was no occasion, perhaps no opportunity, for
her to speak, yet he was hurt that she seemed to
have seen nothing uncommon in his risking his own
life for that of a man like Hicks. He had set the
action low enough in his own speech ; but he knew
that it was not ignoble, and it puzzled him that it
should be so passed over. She had not even said a
word of congratulation upon his own escape. It
might be that she did not know how, or did not
think it was her place to speak. She was curiously
estranged. He felt as if he had been away, and she
had grown from a young girl into womanhood dur-
ng his absence. This fantastic conceit was strong-
est when he met her with Captain Jenness on*
day. He had found friends at the hotel, as ona
always does in Italy, if one's world is at all wide.
— some young ladies, and a lady, now married,

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 20b

irith whom he had once violently flirted. She was
willing that he should envy her husband ; that
amused him in his embittered mood ; he let her
drive him about ; and they met Lydia and the cap-
tain, walking together. Staniford started up from
his lounging ease, as if her limpid gaze had searched
his conscience, and bowed with an air which did
not escape his companion.

" Ah ! Who 's that ? " she asked, with the bold-
ness which she made pass for eccentricity.

" A lady of my acquaintance," said Staniford, at
his laziest again.

" A lady ? " said the other, with an inflection
that she saw hurt. " Why the marine animal, then ?
She bowed very prettily ; she blushed prettily, too."

" She 's a very pretty girl," replied Staniford.

" Charming I But why blush ? "

" I 've heard that there are ladies who blush for
nothing."

"Is she Italian?"

"Yes, — in voice."

" Oh, an American prima donna ! " Staniford did
not answer. " Who is she ? Where is she from ? "

" South Bradfield, Mass." Staniford's eyes twin-
kled at her pursuit, which he did not trouble himself
to turn aside, but baffled by mere impenetrability.

The party at the hotel suggested that the young
men should leave their ship and go on with them to
Naples ; Dunham was tempted, for he could have
•eached Dresden sooner by land ; but Staniford over-

206 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

ruled him, and at the end of four days they weni
back to the Aroostook. They said it was like get-
ting home, but in fact they felt the change from the
airy heights and b^adths of the hotel to the sir ill
cabin and the closets in which they slept ; it was not
•o great alleviation as Captain Jenness seemed to
think that one of them could now have Hicks's state-
room. But Dunham took everything sweetly, as hia
habit was ; and, after all, they were meeting their
hardships voluntarily. Some of the ladies came with
them in the boat which rowed them to the Aroos-
took ; the name made them laugh ; that lady who
wished Staniford to regret her waved him her hand
kerchief as the boat rowed away again. She had
with difficulty been kept from coming on board by
the refusal of the others to come with her. She
had contrived to associate herself with him again
in the minds of the others, and this, perhaps, was
all that she desired. But the sense of her frivolity
— her not so much vacant-mindedness as vacant-
heartedness — was like a stain, and he painted in
Lydia's face when they first met the reproach which
was in his own breast.

Her greeting, however, was frank and cordial ; it
was a real welcome. Staniford wondered if it were
not more frank and cordial than he quite liked, and
whether she was merely relieved by Hicks's absence,
or had freed herself from that certain subjection in
vLich she had hitherto been to himself.

Yet it was charming to see her again as she bad

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 207

been in the happiest moments of the past, and to
feel that, Hicks being out of her world, her trust of
everybody in it was perfect once more. She treated
that interval of coldness and diffidence as all women
know how to treat a thing which they wish not to
have been ; and Staniford, a man on whom no pleas-
ing art of her sex was ever lost, admired and grate-
fully accepted the effect of this. He fell luxuriously
into the old habits again. They had still almost
the time of a steamer's voyage to Europe before
them ; it was as if they were newly setting sail from
America. The first night after they left Messina
Staniford found her in her place in the waist of the
ship, and sat down beside her there, and talked ; the
next night she did not come ; the third she came, and
he asked her to walk with him. The elastic touch
of her hand on his arm, the rhythmic movement of
her steps beside him, were things that seemed always
to have been. She told him of what she had seen
and done in Messina. This glimpse of Italy had
vividly animated her ; she had apparently found a
Vrorld within herself as well as without.

With a suddenly depressing sense of loss, Staniford
had a prevision of splendor in her, when she should
have wholly blossomed out in that fervid air of art
and beauty ; he would fain have kept her still a
wilding rosebud of the New England wayside. He
hated the officers who should wonder at her -when
•he first came into the Square of St. Mark with hi*
Hint and uiicie.

208 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

Her talk about Messina went on ; he was thinking
»f her, and not of her talk ; but he saw that she was
not going to refer to their encounter. " You make
me jealous of the objects of interest in Messina," he
said. " You seem to remember seeing everything
but me, there."

She stopped abruptly. " Yes," she said, after a
deep breath, " I saw you there ; " and she did not
offer to go on again.

" Where were you going, that morning ? "

" Oh, to the cathedral. Captain Jenness left me
there, and I looked all through it till he came back
from the consulate."

" Left you there alone ! " cried Stamford.

" Yes ; I told him I should not feel lonely, and 1
should not stir out of it till he came back. I took
one of those little pine chairs and sat down, when I
got tired, and looked at the people coming to wor-
ship, and the strangers with their guide-books."

" Did any of them look at you ? "

" They stared a good deal. It seems to be the
custom in Europe; but I told Captain Jenness I
uhould probably have to go about by myself in Ven-
ice, as my aunt's an invalid, and I had better get
used to it."

She paused, and seemed to be referring the point
to Staniford.

" Yes, — oh, yes," he said.

" Captain Jenness said it was their way, ovef
here," she resumed ; " but he guessed I had as muob
right in a church as anybody."

TTTE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 209

" The captain's common sense is infallible," an-
Iwered Staniford. He was ashamed to know that
fche beautiful young girl was as improperly alone in
church as she would have been in a cafe", and he be-
gan to hate the European world for the fact. It
seemed better to him that the Aroostook should put
about and sail back to Boston with her, as she was,
— better that she should be going to her aunt i&
South Bradfield than to her aunt in Venice. ** We
lhall soon be at our journey's end, now," he said,
after a while.

" Yes ; the captain thinks in about eight days, if
we have good weather."

" Shall you be sorry ? "

" Oh, I like the sea very well."

" But the new life you are coming to, — does n't
that alarm you sometimes ? "

" Yes, it does," she admitted, with a kind of re-
luctance.

" So much that you would like to turn back from
It?"

" Oh, no I " she answered quickly. Of course
not, Staniford thought ; nothing could be worse than
going back to South Bradfield. " I keep thinking
nbout it," she added. " You say Venice is such a
very strange place. Is it any use my having seen
Messina ? "

"Oh, all Italian cities have something in com*
non."

'• I presume," she went on, " that after I get thert

14

210 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

everything will become natural. But I don't likt
to look forward. It — scares me. I can't form any
idea of it."

44 You need n't be afraid," said Staniford. 44 It '•
only more beautiful than anything you can imagine."

44 Yes — yes ; I know," Lydia answered.

44 And do you really dread getting there ? "

44 Yes, I dread it," she said.

"Why," returned Staniford lightly, "so do I
but it's for a different reason, I 'm afraid. I should
like such a voyage as this to go on forever. Now
and then I think it will ; it seems always to have
gone on. Can you remember when it began ? "

44 A great while ago," she answered, humoring
his fantasy, "but I can remember." She paused a
long while. "I don't know," she said at last,
i4 whether I can make you understand just how I
feel. But it seems to me as if I had died, and this
long voyage was a kind of dream that I was going
to wake up from in another world. I often used to
think, when I was a little girl, that when I got
to heaven it would be lonesome — I don't know
whether I can express it. You say that Italy —
>:aat Venice — is so beautiful ; but if I don't know
way one there " — She stopped, as if she had gona
too far.

44 But you do know somebody there," said Stani-
lord. " Your aunt " —

**Yes, said the girl, and looked away

14 But the people in this long dream, — you 'n

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 211

going to let some of them appear to yon there," he
suggested.

" Oh, yes," she said, reflecting his lighter humor,
** I shall want to see them, or I shall not know I
am the same person, and I must be sure of myself,
Sit least."

"And you would n't like to go back to earth-—
to South Bradfield again ? " he asked presently.

" No," she answered. " All that seems oreff
forever. I could n't go back there and be what 1
was. I could have stayed there, but I could n't go
back."

Stamford laughed. " I see that it is n't the other
world that 's got hold of you ! It 's this world ! I
don't believe you '11 be unhappy in Italy. But it 'a
pleasant to think you 've been so contented on the
Aroostook that you hate to leave it. I don't believe
there 's a man on the ship that would n't feel pe*~
gonally flattered to know that you liked being her*.
Even that poor fellow who parted from us at Mes-
sina was anxious that you should think as kindly of
him as you could. He knew that he had behaved
in a way to shock you, and he was very sorry. He
left a message with me for you. He thought you
would like to know that he was ashamed of him-
self."

" I pitied him," said Lydia succinctly. It wa«
the first time that she had referred to Hicks, and
Staniford found it in character for her to limit her-
•elf to this sparse comment. Evidently, her oon>

212 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

passion was a religious duty. Staniford a genera*
ity came easy to him.

" I feel bound to say that Hicks was not a bad
fellow. I disliked him immensely, and I ought to
do him justice, now he 's gone. He deserved all
your pity. He 's a doomed man ; his vice is irrep-
arable ; he can't resist it." Lydia did not say
anything: women do not generalize in these mat-
ters ; perhaps they cannot pity the faults of those
they do not love. Staniford only forgave Hicks
the more. " I can't say that up to the last moment
I thought him anything but a poor, common little
creature ; and yet I certainly did feel a greater
kindness for him after — what I — after what had
happened. He left something more than a message
for you, Miss Blood ; he left his steamer chair
yonder, for you."

" For me ? " demanded Lydia. Staniford felt
her thrill and grow rigid upon his arm, with re-
fusal. " I will not have it. He had no right to
do so. He — he — was dreadful! I will give it to
you ! " she said, suddenly. " He ought to have
given it to you. You did every thing for him ; you
saved his life."

It was clear that she did not sentimentalise
Hicks's case ; and Staniford had some doubt as to
the value she set upon what he had done, even now
the had recognized it.

He said, " I think you overestimate my service to
him, possibly. I dare say the boat could ha?«
picked him up in good time."

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 218

" Yes, that 's what the captain and Mr. Watter
ion and Mr. Mason all said," assented Lydia.

Staniford was nettled. He would have preferred
a devoted belief that but for him Hicks must have
perished. Besides, what she said still gave no clew
to her feeling in regard to himself. He was obliged
to go on, but he went on as indifferently as he
could. " However, it was hardly a question for
me at the time whether he could have been got out
without my help. If I had thought aboat it at
all — which I did n't — I suppose I should have
thought that it would n't do to take any chances."

" Oh, no," said Lydia, 8impTy, " you could n't
have done anything less than you did."

In his heart Staniford had often thought that he
could have done very much less than jump over-
board after Hicks, and could very properly have
left him to the ordinary life-saving apparatus of
the ship. But if he had been putting the matter
to some lady in society who was aggressively prais-
ing him for his action, he would have said just
what Lydia had said for him, — that he could not
have done anything less. He might have said it,
however, in such a way that the lady would have
pursued his retreat from her praises with still
[under applause ; whereas this girl seemed to think
there was nothing else to be said. He began to
atand in awe of her heroic simplicity. If she drew
*rery-day breath in that lofty air, what could she
really think of him, who preferred on principle th«

214 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

atmosphere of the valley? " Do you know, Mist
Blood," he said gravely, "that you pay me a ver*
high compliment ? "

" How ? " she asked.

" You rate my maximum as my mean tempera-
tote." He felt that she listened inquiringly. " 1
don't think I 'ni habitually up to a thing of that
kind," he explained.

" Oh, no," she assented, quietly ; " but when he
struck at you so, you had to do everything."

" Ah, you have the pitiless Puritan conscience
that takes the life out of us all ! " cried Stamford,
with sudden bitterness. Lydia seemed startled,
shocked, and her hand trembled on his arm, as if
she had a mind to take it away. " I was a long
time laboring up to that point. I suppose you are
always there ! "

" I don't understand," she said, turning her head
round with the slow motion of her beauty, and look-
ing him full in the face.

" I can't explain now. I will, by and by, — when
we get to Venice," he added, with quick lightness.

" You put off everything till we get to Venice,'
ihe said, doubtfully.

" I beg your pardon. It was you who did it the
last trine."

" Was it ? " She laughed. " So it was I I wa«
thinking it was you."

It consoled him a little that she should have con-
tused them in her thought, in this way. " What
WHH it wvn »vere to tell me iu Venice9 " he aakod.

THE LADY OF THE AKOOSTOOK. 215

" I can't think, now.'

" Very likely something of yourself — or myself.
A. third person might say our conversational range
w&s limited."

" Do you think it is very egotistica^ ? " she asked,
£i the gay tone which gave him relief from the
Mnse of oppressive elevation of mind in her.

" It is in me, — not in you."

*' But I don't see the difference."

"I will explain sometime."

" When we get to Venice ? "

They both laughed. It was very nonsensical ,
but nonsense is sometimes enough.

When they were serious again, " Tell me," he
Baid, " what you thought of that lady in Messina,
the other day."

She did not affect not to know whom he meant.
She merely said, " I only saw her a moment."

" But you thought something. If we only see
people a second we form some opinion of them."

" She is very fine-appearing," said Lydia.

Stamford 'smiled at the countrified phrase ; he
had observed that when she spoke her mind she
used an instinctive good language ; when she would
not speak it, she fell into the phraseology of the
people with whom she had lived. " I see you don't
wish to say, because you think she is a friend of
mine. But you can speak out freely. We weta
not friends ; we were enemies, if anything."

Staniford's meaning was clear enough to himself

216 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

but Lydia paused, as if in doubt whether he was
jesting or not, before she asked, " Why were you
riding with her then ? "

"I was driving with her," he replied, "I suppose,
because she asked me."

" Asked y ou! " cried the girl; and he perceived
her moral recoil both from himself and from a
woman who could be so unseemly. That lady
would have found it delicious if she could have
known that a girl placed like Lydia was shocked at
her behavior. But he was not amused. He was
touched by the simple self-respect that would not
let her suffer from what was not wrong in itself,
but that made her shrink from a voluntary sem-
blance of un womanliness. It endeared her not only
to his pity, but to that sense which in every man
consecrates womanhood, and waits for some woman
to be better than all her sex. Again he felt the
/ pang he had remotely known before. What would
she do with these ideals of hers in that depraved
Old World, — so long past trouble for its sins as to
have got a sort of sweetness and innocence in them,
— where her facts would be utterly irreconcilable
with her ideals, and equally incomprehensible?

They walked up and down a few turns without
speaking again of that lady. He knew that she
grew momently more constrained toward him ; that
the pleasure of the time was spoiled for her; that
she had lost her trust in him ; and this half amused,
half afflicted him. It did not surprise him \\hen,

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 217

at their third approach to the cabin gangway, she
withdrew her hand from his arm and said, stiffly,
" I think I will go down." But she did not go at
once. She lingered, and after a certain hesitation
she said, without looking at him, " I did n't ex-
press what I wanted to, about Mr. 'Hicks, and —
what you did. It is what I thought you would do."
" Thanks," said Staniford, with sincere humility.
He understood how she had had this in her mind,
and how she would not withhold justice from him
because he had fallen in her esteem ; how rather
she would be the more resolute to do him justice
for that reason.

XIX

HE could see that she avoided being alone
him the next day, but he took it for a sign ot re-
lenting, perhaps helpless relenting, that she was in
her usual place on deck in the evening. He went
to her, and, " I see that you have n't forgiven me,"
he said.

" Forgiven you ? " she echoed.

" Yes," he said, " for letting that lady ask me
to drive with her."

" I never said " — she began.

" Oh, no ! But I knew it, all the same. It was
not such a very wicked thing, as those things go.
But I liked your not liking it. Will you let me
say something to you ? "

" Yes," she answered, rather breathlessly.

" You must think it 's rather an odd thing to say,
as I ask leave. It is ; and I hardly know how to
say it. I want to tell you that I 've made bold to
depend a great deal upon your good opinion for
my peace of mind, of late, and that I can't well do
without it now."

She stole the quickest of her bird-like glances at
him, but did not speak ; and though she seemed,
to his anxious fancy, poising for flight, she re>

THE LADY QF THE AROOSTOOK. 21 f

mained, and merely looked away, like the bird that
will not or cannot fly.

" You don't resent my making you my outer con-
science, dc you, and my knowing that you 're not
quite pleased with me ? "

She looked down and away with one of tbos
turns of the head, so precious when one who be
holds them is young, and caught at the fringe ol
her shawl. " I have no right," she began.

" Oh, I give you the right ! " he cried, with
passionate urgence. " You have the right. Judge
me I " She only looked more grave, and he hurried
on. " It was no great harm of her to ask me ;
that 's common enough ; but it was harm of me to
go if I did n't quite respect her, — if I thought
her silly, and was willing to be amused with her.
One has n't any right to do that. I saw this when
I saw you." She still hung her head, and looked
away. " I want you to tell me something," he
pursued. " Do you remember once — the second
time we talked together — that you said Dunhara
was in earnest, and you would n't answer when I
asked you about myself? Do you remember ? "

" Yes," said the girl.

" I did n't care, then. I care very much now.
You don't think me — you think I can be in ear-
liest when I will, don't you ? And that I can re-
gret — that I really wish " — He took the hand
that played with the shawl-fringe, but she softlj
irew it away.

920 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" Ah, I see I " he said. " You can't believe in
me. You don't believe that I can be a good man

— like Dunham ! "

She answered in the same breathless murmur,
•* I think you are good." Her averted face drooped
lower.

" I will tell you all about it, some day ! " he cried,
with joyful vehemence. " Will you let me ? "

"Yes," she answered, with the swift expulsion
of breath that sometimes comes with tears. She
rose quickly and turned away. He did not try to
keep her from leaving him. His heart beat tumult-
nously ; his brain seemed in a whirl. It all meant
nothing, or it meant everything.

" What is the matter with Miss Blood ? " asked
Dunham, who joined him at this moment. " I just
gpoke to her at the foot of the gangway stairs, and
she would n't answer me."

" Oh, I don't know about Miss Blood— I don't
know what 's the matter," said Staniford. " Look
here, Dunham ; I want to talk with you — I want
to tell you something — I want you to advise me

— I — There 's only one thing that can explain
it, that can excuse it. There 's only one thing that
can justify all that I 've done and said, and that
can not only justify it, but can make it sacredly
and eternally right, — right for her and right for
me. Yes, it 's reason for all, and for a thousand
times more. It makes it fair for me to have lei
her see that I thought her beautiful and charming

THE LADY OF" THE AROOSTOOK. 221

lhat I delighted to be with her, that I— Dunham,"
sried Stamford, " I 'm in love ! "

Dunham started at the burst in which these rav-
ings ended. " Staniford," he faltered, with grave
regret, " I hope not I "

"Yon hope not? You — you — What do you
mean ? How else can I free myself from the self-
reproach of having trifled with her, of " —

Dunham shook his head compassionately. " Yon
can't do it that way. Your only safety is to fighi
it to the death, — to run from it."

"But if I don't choose to fight it?" shouted
Staniford, — "if I don't choose to run from it ? If
I" —

" For Heaven's sake, hush I The whole ship
will hear you, and you ought n't to breathe it in
the desert. I saw how it was going ! I dreaded
it ; I knew it ; and I longed to speak. I 'm to
blame for not speaking ! "

" I should like to know what would have author
ized you to speak ? " demanded Staniford, haugh-
tily.

" Only my regard for you ; only what urges me
to speak now ! You must fight it, Staniford, whether
you choose or not. Think of yourself, — think of
her ! Think — you have always been my ideal of
nonor and truth and loyalty — think of her hoa-
oand" —

" Her husband ! " gasped Staniford. « Who*
ausband ? What the deuce — who the deuce —
we you talking about, Dunham ? "

i22 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" Mrs. Rivers."

"Mrs. Rivers? That flimsy, feather-headed,
wnpty-hearted — eyes-maker ! That frivolous, ri-
diculous— Pah! And did you think that I wai
talking of her ? Did you think I was in love with
her?"

" Why," stammered Dunham, " I supposed— 1
thought — At Messina, you know " —

" Oh I " Stamford walked the deck's length
away. " Well, Dunham," he said, as he came
back, " you 've spoilt a pretty scene with your rot
about Mrs. Rivers. I was going to be romantic I
But perhaps I 'd better say in ordinary newspaper
English that I Ve just found out that I'm in love
with Miss Blood."

" With her ! " cried Dunham, springing at hia
hand.

" Oh, come now ! Don't you be romantic, after
knocking my chance."

" Why, but Staniford ! " said Dunham, wringing
his hand with a lover's joy in another's love and his
relief that it was not Mrs. Rivers. " I never should
have dreamt of such a thing ! "

" Why ? " asked Staniford, shortly.

" Oh, the way you talked at first, you know,
Mid" —

" I suppose even people who get married have
•omething to take back about each other," said
Btaniford, rather sheepishly. " However," he added,
with an impulse of frankness, " I don't know that (

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 228

ihould have dreamt of it myself, and I don't blame
you. But it 's a fact, nevertheless."

" Why, of course. It 'a splendid ! Certainly ;
It 's magnificent ! " There was undoubtedly a
qualification, a reservation, in Dunham's tone. He
might have thought it right to bring the inequali-
ties of the affair to Stamford's mind. With all his
effusive kindliness of heart and manner, he had a
keen sense of social fitness, a nice feeling for con-
vention. But a man does not easily suggest to
another that the girl with whom he has just de-
clared himself in love is his inferior. What Dun-
ham finally did say was : " It jumps with all your
ideas — all your old talk about not caring to marry
a society girl " —

" Society might be very glad of such a girl I "
Maid Stamford, stiffly.

" Yes, yes, certainly ; but I mean " —

" Oh, I know what you mean. It 's all right,"
said Staniford. " But it is n't a question of marry-
ing yet. I can't be sure she understood me, — I 've
been so long understanding myself. And yet, she
must, she must I She must believe it by this time,
or else that I 'm the most infamous scoundrel alive.
When I think how I have sought her out, and fol-
'owed her up, and asked her judgment, and hung
upon her words, I feel that I oughtn't to lose i>
moment in being explicit. I don't care for myself s
ihe can take me or leave me, as she likes ; but il
the does n't understand, she must n't be left in BU*

224 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

pense as to my meaning." He seemed to be speak
ing to Dunham, but he was really thinking aloud,
and Dunham waited for some sort of question b**
fore he spoke. " But it 's a great satisfaction to
have had it out with myself. I have n't got to
pretend any more that I hang about her, and look
fct her, and go mooning round after her, for this
no reason and that ; I Ve got the best reason in the
world for playing the fool, — I 'm in love ! " He
drew a long, deep breath. " It simplifies matters
immensely to have reached the point of acknowl-
edging that. Why, Dunham, those four days at
Messina almost killed me I They settled it. When
that woman was in full fascination it made me
gasp. I choked for a breath of fresh air; for a
taste of spring-water ; for — Lurella ! " It was a
long time since Staniford had used this name, and
the sound of it made him laugh. " It 's droll —
but I always think of her as Lurella; I wish it
was her name I Why, it was like heaven to see her
face when I got back to the ship. After we met
her that day at Messina, Mrs. Rivers tried her best
to get out of me who it was, and where I met her.
But I flatter myself that I was equal to that emer-
gency."

Dunham said nothing, at once. Then, " Stani
ford," he faltered, " she got it out of me."

"Did you tell her who Lu— who Miss Bloo4
WM?"

"Yea."

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 225

"And how I happened to be acquainted with
her?"

" Yes."

"And that we were going on to Trieste with
her?"

** She had it out of me before I knew," said
Dunham. " I did n't realize what she was after ;
and I did n't realize how peculiar the situation
might seem" —

44 1 see nothing peculiar in the situation," inte*
rupted Stamford, haughtily. Then he laughed con-
sciously. " Or, yes, I do ; of course I do ! You
must know her to appreciate it, though." He
mused a while before he added : " No wonder Mrs.
Rivers was determined to come aboard! I wish
we had let her, — confound her ! She '11 think
I was ashamed of it. There 's nothing to be
ashamed of ! By Heaven, I should like to hear any
one " — Staniford broke off, and laughed, and then
bit his lip, smiling. Suddenly he burst out again,
frowning : " I won't view it in that light. I refuse
to consider it from that point of view. As far as
I 'm concerned, it 's as regular as anything else in
.life. It 's the same to me as if she were in her
own house, and I had come there to tell her that
ihe has my future in her hand. She 's such a lady
by instinct that she 's made it all a triumph, and
I thank God that I have n't done or said anything
to mar it. Even that beast of a Hicks did n't ; it 'a
to merit. I 've made love to her, — I own it ; of
if

220 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

course I have, because I was in love with her , and
my fault has been that I have n't made love tc hei
openly, but have gone on fancying that I waa
studying her character, or some rubbish of that
uort. But the fault is easily repaired." He turned
about, as if he. were going to look for Lydia at
once, and ask her to be his wife. But he halted
abruptly, and sat down. " No ; that won't do," he
said. " That won't do at all." He remained
thinking, and Dunham, unwilling to interrupt his
reverie, moved a few paces off. " Dunham, don't
go. I want your advice. Perhaps I don't see it
in the right light."

" How is it you see it, my dear fellow ? " asked
Dunham.

" I don't know whether I 've a right to be ex-
plicit with her, here. It seems like taking an ad-
vantage. In a few days she will be with her
friends" —

"You must wait," said Dunham, decisively.
" You can't speak to her before she is in their care ;
it wouldn't be the thing. You're quite right
about that."

" No, it would n't be the thing," groaned Stani-
ford. " But how is it all to go on till then ? " he
demanded desperately.

Why, just as it has before," answered Dunham,
with easy confidence.

•« But is that fair tc her ? "

" Why not ? You mean to say to her at tht

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 221

right time all that a man can. Till that time
comes I have n't the least doubt she understandr
you."

" Do you think so ? " asked Staniford, simply.
He had suddenly grown very subject and meek to
Dunbam.

" Yes," said the other, with the superiority of a
betrothed lover ; " women are very quick about
those things."

" I suppose you 're right," sighed Staniford, with
nothing of his wonted arrogant pretension in re-
gard to women's moods and minds, " I suppose
you 're right. And you would go on just as be-
fore?"

" I would, indeed. How could you change with-
out making her unhappy — if she 's interested in
you? "

" That 'a true. I could imagine worse things
bhan going on just as before. I suppose," he added,
•'* that something more explicit has its charms ; but
a mutual understanding is very pleasant, — if it is
ft mutual understanding." He looked inquiringly
ftt Dunham.

" Why, as to that, of course I don't know. You
ought to be the best judge of that. But I don't
believe your impressions would deceive you."

" Yours did, once," suggested Staniford, in sus*
pense.

•* Yes ; but I was not in love with her," explained

228 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" Of course," said Staniford, with a breath of
relief. " And you think — Well, I must wait I "
he concluded, grimly. " But don't — don't men-
tion this matter, Dunham, unless I do. Don't
keep an eye on me, old fellow. Or, yes, you must I
You can't help it. I want to tell you, Dunham,
what makes me think she may be a not wholly un-
interested spectator of my — sentiments." He
made full statement of words and looks and tones.
Dunham listened with the patience which one IOTO
has with another.

XX

THE few days that yet remained of their voyagi
irere falling in the latter half of September, and
Stamford tried to make the young girl see the sur-
passing loveliness of that season under Italian skies,
che fierceness of the summer is then past, and at
night, when chiefly they inspected the firmament,
the heaven has begun to assume something of the
intense blue it wears in whiter. She said yes, it
was very beautiful, but she could not see that the
days were finer, or the skies bluer, than those of
September at home ; and he laughed at her loyalty
to the American weather. " Don't you think so,
too ? " she asked, as if it pained her that he should
ike Italian weather better.

" Oh, yes, — yes," he said. Then he turned the
talk on her, as he did whenever he could. " I like
your meteorological patriotism. If I were a woman,
I should stand by America in everything."

" Don't you as a man ? " she pursued, still anx-
iously.

" Oh, certainly," he answered. " But women owe
iur continent a double debt of fidelity. It's the
Paradise of women, it 's their Promised Land,
where they 've been led up out of the Egyptian
bondage of Europe. It's the home of their free-

280 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

j dom. It is recognized in America that nvomen hart
' consciences and souls."

Lydia looked very grave. " Is it — is it so differ
ent with women in Europe ? " she faltered.

" Very," he replied, and glanced at her half-
laughingly, half-tenderly.

After a while, " I wish you would tell me," she
said, " just what you mean. I wish you would tell
me what is the difference."

" Oh, it 's a long story. I will tell you — when
we get to Venice." The well-worn jest served if«
purpose again ; she laughed, and he continued :
" By the way, just when will that be ? The cap-
tain says that if this wind holds we shall be in
Trieste by Friday afternoon. I suppose your
friends will meet you there on Saturday, and that
you '11 go back with them to Venice at once."

44 Yes," assented Lydia.

" Well, if I should come on Monday, would that
be too soon ? "

" Oh, no ! " she answered. He wondered if she
had been vaguely hoping that he might go directly
on with her to Venice. They were together all
day, now, and the long talks went on from early
morning, when they met before breakfast on deck,
nntil late at night, when they parted there, with
blushed and laughed good-nights. Sometimes the
trust she put upon his unspoken promises was ter-
rible ; it seemed to condemn his reticence as fantas-
tic and hazardous. With her, at least, it was crear

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 23?

lhat this love was the first; her living and loving
were one. He longed to testify the devotion which
he felt, to leave it unmistakable and safe past acci-
dent ; he thought of making his will, in which he
should give her everything, and declare her su-
premely dear ; he could only rid himself of this by
drawing up the paper in writing, and then he easily
tore it in pieces.

They drew nearer together, not only in their talk
about each other, but in what they said of different
people in their relation to themselves. But Stam
ford's pleasure in the metaphysics of reciprocal ap-
preciation, his wonder at the quickness with which
she divined characters he painfully analyzed, was
not greater than his joy in the pretty hitch of the
shoulder with which she tucked her handkerchief
into the back pocket of her sack, or the picturesque-
ness with which she sat facing him, and leant upon
jhe rail, with her elbow wrapped in her shawl, and
the fringe gathered in the hand which propped her
cheek. He scribbled his sketch-book full of her
contours and poses, which sometimes he caught un-
awares, and which sometimes she sat for him to
draw. One day, as they sat occupied in this, " I
wonder" he said, "if you have anything of my
feeling, nowadays. It seems to me as if the world
hud gone on a pleasure excursion, without taking
me along, and I was enjoying myself very much at
fcome."

"Why, yes," she said, joyously; "do you havt
that feeling, too ? "

232 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" I wonder what it is makes us feel so," he venb
nred.

44 Perhaps," she returned, "the long voyage."

" I shall hate to have the world come back, I be-
lieve," he said, reverting to the original figure.
" Shall you?"

" You know I don't know much about it," she
answered, in lithe evasion, for which she more than
atoned with a conscious look and one of her dark
blushes. Yet he chose, with a curious cruelty, to
try how far she was his.

" How odd it would be," he said, " if we never
should have a chance to talk up this voyage of ours
when it is over ! "

She started, in a way that made his heart smite
him. " Why, you said you " — And then she
caught herself, and struggled pitifully for the self-
possession she had lost. She turned her head
away ; his pulse bounded.

" Did you think I would n't ? I am living for
that." He took the hand that lay in her lap ; sh«
seemed to try to free it, but she had not the strength
or will ; she could only keep her face turned trow

XXI

THEY arrived Friday afternoon in Trieste, and
Captain Jenness telegraphed his arrival to Lydia'a
Uncle as he went up to the consulate with his ship's
papers. The next morning the young men sent
their baggage to a hotel, but they came back for a
last dinner on the Aroostook. They all pretended
to be very gay, but everybody was perturbed and
distraught. Staniford and Dunham had paid their
way handsomely with the sailors, and they had re-
turned with remembrances in florid scarfs and jew-
elry for Thomas and the captain and the officers.
Dunham had thought they ought to get something
to give Lydia as a souvenir of their v°yage ; it wag
part of his devotion to young ladies to offer them
little presents ; but Staniford overruled him, and
Baid there should be nothing of the kind. Thoy
agreed to be out of the way when her uncle came,
and they said good-by after dinner. She came on
deck to watch them ashore. Staniford would be the
last to take leave. As he looked into her eyes, he
taw brave trust of him, but he thought a sort of
troubled wonder, too, as if she could not under-
itand his reticence, and suffered from it. There
was tho same latent appeal and reproach in the
pose in *?hich she watched their boat row away

234 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

She stood with one hand resting on the rail, and
her slim grace outlined against the sky. He waved
hia hand ; she answered with a little languid wave
of hers ; then she turned away. He felt as if he
had forsaken her.

The afternoon was very long. Toward night-fall
he eluded Dunham, and wandered back to the ship
in the hope that she might still be there. But she
was gone. Already everything was changed. There
was bustle and discomfort ; it seemed years since
he had been there. Captain Jenness was ashore
somewhere ; it was the second mate who told Stan-
iford of her uncle's coming.

" What sort of person was he ? " he asked vaguely.

" Oh, well I Dum an Englishman, any way,"
§aid Mason, in a tone of easy, sociable explanation.

The scruple to which Staniford had been holding
himself for the past four or five days seemed the
most incredible of follies, — the most fantastic, the
most cruel. He hurried back to the hotel ; when
he found Dunham coming out from the table d'hote
he was wild.

" I have been the greatest fool in the world,
Dunham," he said. " I have let a quixotic quibble
keep me from speaking when I ought to have
•poken.''

Dunham looked at him in stupefaction. " Where
have you been ? " he inquired.

"Down to the ship. I was in hopes that ihc
night be still there. But she 's gone."

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOCK. 236

** The Aroostook gone f "

" Look here, Dunham," cried Staniford, angrily,
* this is the second time you 've done that ! If you
are merely thick-witted, much can be forgiven to
jrour infirmity ; but if you 've a mind to joke, let
me tell you you choose your time badly."

" I 'm not joking. I don't know what you 're
talking about. I may be thick-witted, as you say ;
or you may be scatter- witted," said Dunham, indig-
nantly. " What are you after, any way ? "

" What was my reason for not being explicit
with her ; for going away from her without one
honest, manly, downright word ; for sneaking off
without telling her that she was more than life to
me, and that if she cared for me as I cared for her
I would go on with her to Venice, and meet her
people with her ? "

" Why, I don't know," replied Dunham, vaguely.
** We agreed that there would be a sort of — that
she ought to be in their care before " —

" Then I can tell you," interrupted Staniford,
" that we agreed upon the greatest piece of nonsense
that ever was. A man can do no more than offer
himself, and if he does less, after he 's tried every-
thing to show that he 's in love with a woman, and
to make her in love with him, he 's a scamp to refrain
from a bad motive, and an ass to refrain from a good
Dne. Why in the name of Heaven should n't I have
ipoken, instead of leaving her to eat her heart out
in wonder at my delay, and to doubt and suspect

236 THE LADY OF THE AR006TOOK.

and dread — Oh ! " he shouted, in supreme seii«
contempt.

Dunham had nothing to urge in reply. He had
fallen in with what he thought Staniford's own mind
in regard to the course he ought to take ; since he
had now changed his mind, there seemed never to
have been any reason for that course.

" My dear fellow," he said, " it is n't too late yet
to see her, I dare say. Let us go and find what
time the trains leave for Venice."

" Do you suppose I can offer myself in the salle
d'attente f " sneered Stamford. But he went with
Dunham to the coffee-room, where they found the
Osservatore Triestino and the time-table of the rail-
road. The last train left for Venice at ten, and it
was now seven ; the Austrian Lloyd steamer foi
Venice sailed at nine.

" Pshaw ! " said Staniford, and pushed the pa-
per away. He sat brooding over the matter before
the table on which the journals were scattered, while
Dunham waited for him to speak. At last he said,
" I can't stand it ; I must see her. I don't know
whether I told her I should come on to-morrow
night or not. If she should be expecting me on
Monday morning, and I should be delayed — Dun-
ham, will you drive round with me to the Austrian
Lloyd's wharf? They may be going by the boat,
and if they are they '11 have left their hotel. We 'li
fery the train later. I should like to find out if they
are on board. I don't know that I '11 try to speak
frith them ; very likely not."

THE LADY OP THE ABOOSTOOK. 287

MI '11 go, certainly," answered Dunham, cordially.

'* I '11 have some dinner first," said Staniford.
•' I 'm hungry."

It was quite dark when they drove on to the wharf
at which the boat for Venice lay. When thej ar-
rived, a plan had occurred to Staniford, through the
timidity which had already succeeded the boldness
of his desperation. " Dunham," he said, " I want
you to go on board, and see if she 's there. I don't
think I could stand not finding her. Besides, if
she 's cheerful and happy, perhaps I 'd better not
Bee her. You can come back and report. Confound
it, you know, I should be so conscious before that
infernal uncle of hers. You understand ! "

"Yes, yes." returned Dunham, eager to serre
Staniford in a case like this. " I '11 manage it."

" Well," said Staniford, beginning to doubt the
wisdom of either going aboard, " do it if you think
best. I don't know " —

"Don't know what?" asked Dunham, pausing
in the door of the fiacre.

" Oh, nothing, nothing ! I hope we 're not mak-
ing fools of ourselves."

" You 're morbid, old fellow ! " said Dunham,
gayly. He disappeared in the darkness, and Stani-
ford waited, with set teeth, till he came back. He
seemed a long time gone. When he returned, he
itood holding fast to the open fiacre-door, without
•peaking.

" Well ! " cried Staniford, with bitter impatience.

238 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" Well wbat ? " Dunham asked, in a stupid voioa

" Were they there ? "

" I don't know. I can't tell."

" Can't tell, man ? Did you go to see? '

44 1 think so. I 'm not sure."

A heavy sense of calamity descended upon Stam-
ford's heart, but patience came with it. " What '•
the matter, Dunham ? " he asked, getting out trem-
ulously.

" I don't know. I think I Ve had a fall, some-
where. Help me in."

Staniford got out and helped him gently to the
seat, and then mounted beside him, giving the order
for their return. " Where is your hat ? " he asked,
finding that Dunham was bareheaded.

" I don't know. It does n't matter. Am I bleed
ing?"

" It 's so dark, I can't see."

" Put your hand here." He carried Stamford's
hand to the back of his head.

" There 's no blood ; but you Ve had an ugly
knock there."

" Yes, that 's it," said Dunham. " I remember
now ; I slipped and struck my head. He lapsed
away in a torpor; Staniford could learn nothing
moro from him.

The hurt was not what Staniford in his first
anxiety had feared, but the doctor whom they calle<{
at the hotel was vague and guarded as to every
tiling but the time and care which must be given

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOR. 239

m any event. Stamford despaired ; but there was
only one thing to do. He sat down beside his friend
to take care of him.

His mind was a turmoil of regrets, of anxieties,
jf apprehensions ; but he had a superficial calmness
that enabled him to meet the emergencies of the
case. He wrote a letter to Lydia whicL he somehow
knew to be rightly worded, telling her of the acci-
dent. In terms which conveyed to her all that he
felt, he said that he should not see her at the time
he had hoped, but promised to come to Venice as
soon as he could quit his friend. Then, with a deep
breath, he put that affair away for the time, and
Beemed to turn a key upon it.

He called a waiter, and charged him to have hia
letter posted at once. The man said he would giire
it to the portier, who was sending out some other
letters. He returned, ten minutes later, with a
number of letters which he said the portier had
found for him at the post-office. Staniford glanced
%t them. It was no time to read them then, and h«
oat them into the breast pocket of his coat.

XXII

AT the hotel in Trieste, to which Lydia w«m
with her uncle before taking the train for Venice
she found an elderly woman, who made her
courtesy, and, saying something in Italian, startled
her by kissing her hand.

" It 's our Veronica," her uncle explained ; " she
wants to know how she can serve you." He gave
Veronica the wraps and parcels he had been carry-
ing. " Your aunt thought you might need a maid."

" Oh, no I " said Lydia. " I always help my-
self."

" Ah, I dare say," returned her uncle. " Yon
American ladies are so — up to snuff, as you say.
But your aunt thought we 'd better have her with
us, in any case."

" And she sent her all the way from Venice ? "

" Yes."

"Well, I never did!" said Lydia, not lightly
but with something of contemptuous severity.

Her uncle smiled, as if she had said something
peculiarly acceptable to him, and asked, hesitatingly,
" When you say you never did, you know, what if
the full phrase ? "

Lydia looked at him. " Oh 1 I suppose I meant
[ never heard of such a thing."

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 241

" Ah, thanks, thanks ! " said her uncle. He w&a
* tall, slender man of fifty-five or sixty, with a
Btraight gray mustache, and not at all the typical
Englishman, but much more English-looking than
if he had been. His bearing toward Lydia blended
R fatherly kindness and a colonial British gallantry,
such as one sees in elderly Canadian gentlemen
attentive to quite young Canadian ladies at the pro-
vincial watering-places. He had an air of advent-
ure, and of uncommon pleasure and no small as-
tonishment in Lydia's beauty. They were already
good friends ; she was at her ease with him ; she
treated him as if he were an old gentleman. At
the station, where Veronica got into the same car-
riage with them, Lydia found the whole train very
queer-looking, and he made her describe its differ-
ence from an American train. He said, " Oh, yea
— yes, engine," when she mentioned the locomotive,
and he apparently prized beyond its worth the word
cow-catcher, a fixture which Lydia said was wanting
to the European locomotive, and left it very stubby.
He asked her if she would allow him to set it down ;
%nd he entered the word in his note-book, with
several other idioms she had used. He said that he
amused himself in picking up these things from his
American friends. He wished to know what she
called this and that and the other thing, and was
squally pleased whether her nomenclature agreed
or disagreed with his own. Where it differed, he
recorded the fact, with her leave, in his book. H«

16

242 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

plied her with a thousand questions about America,
With all parts of which he seemed to think her fa-
miliar ; and she explained with difficulty how very
little of it she had seen. He begged her not to lei
him bore her, and to excuse the curiosity of a Brit-
isher, " As I suppose you 'd call me," he added.

Lydia lifted her long-lashed lids half-way, and
answered, " No, I should n't call you so."

" Ah, yes," he returned, " the Americans always
disown it. But I don't mind it at all, you know.
I like those native expressions." Where they
stopped for refreshments he observed that one of
the dishes, which was flavored to the national taste,
had a pretty tall smell, and seemed disappointed by
Lydia's unresponsive blankness at a word which a
countryman of hers — from Kentucky — had applied
to the odor of the Venetian canals. He suffered in
like measure from a like effect in her when he la-
mented the complications that had kept him the
year before from going to America with Mrs. Erwin,
when she revisited her old stamping-ground.

As they rolled along, the warm night which had
fallen after the beautiful day breathed through the
half-dropped window in a rich, soft air, as strange
almost as the flying landscape itself. Mr. Erwin
began to drowse, and at last he fell asleep ; but
Veronica kept her eyes vigilantly fixed upon Lydia,
always smiling when she caught her glance, and of-
feiing service. At the stations, so orderly and yet
•o noisy, where the passengers were held in tin

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 248

lame me«k subjection as at Trieste, people got in
and out of the carriage ; and there were officers, at
first in white coats, and after they passed the Italian
frontier in blue, who stared at Lydia. One of the
Italians, a handsome young hussar, spoke to her.
She could not know what he said ;• but when he
crossed over to her side of the carriage, she rose and
took her place beside Veronica, where she remained
even after he left the carriage. She was sensible of
growing drowsy. Then she was aware of nothing
till she woke up with her head on Veronica's shoul-
der, against which she had fallen, and on which she
had been patiently supported for hours. " Ecco
Venezia!" cried the old woman, pointing to a swarm
of lights that seemed to float upon an expanse of
Bea. Lydia did not understand ; she thought she
was again on board the Aroostook, and that the
lights she saw were the lights of the shipping in
Boston ha/bor. The illusion passed, and left her
heart sore. She issued from the glare of the station
upon the quay before it, bewildered by the ghostly
beauty of the scene, but shivering in the chill of the
dawn, and stunned by the clamor of the gondoliers.
A tortuous course in the shadow of lofty walls, more
•deeply darkened from time to time by the arch of a
bridge, and again suddenly pierced by the brilliance
.f a lamp that shot its red across the gloom, or
plunged it into the black water, brought them to a
palace gate at which they stopped, and where, after
ft dramatic ceremony of sliding bolts and the reloo

244 THE LADY OP THE AROOSTOOK.

fcant yielding of broad doors on a level with tht
water, she passed through a marble-paved court and
Dp a stately marble staircase to her uncle's apart*
ment. " You 're at home, now, you know," he said,
in a kindly way, and took her hand, very cold and
lax, in his for welcome. She could not answer, but
made haste to follow Veronica to her room, whither
the old woman led the way with a candle. It was
a gloomily spacious chamber, with sombre walls and
a lofty ceiling with a faded splendor of gilded panel-
ing. Some tall, old-fashioned mirrors and bureaus
stood about, with rugs before them on the stone
floor ; in the middle of the room was a bed curtained
with mosquito-netting. Carved chairs were pushed
here and there against the wall. Lydia dropped
into one of these, too strange and heavy-hearted to
go to bed in that vastness and darkness, in which
her candle seemed only to burn a small round hole.
She longed forlornly to be back again in her pretty
Btate-room on the Aroostook ; vanishing glimpses
and echoes of the faces and voices grown so familiar
in the past weeks haunted her; the helpless tears
ran down her cheeks.

There came a tap at her door, and her aunt's
voice called, " Shall I come in ? " and before she
•^ould faintly consent, her aunt pushed in, and caught
ber in her arms, and kissed her, and broke into a
t witter of welcome and compassion. " You poor
eliild ! Did you think I was going to let you go to
lleep without seeing you, after you 'd come hall

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 245

round the world to see me ? " Her aunt was dark
and slight like Lydia, but not so tall ; she was still
a very pretty woman, and she was a very effective
presence now in the long white morning-gown of
camel's hair, somewhat fantastically embroidered in
crimson silk, in which she drifted about before Lyd
ia's bewildered eyes. " Let me see how you look I
Are you as handsome as ever ? " She held the can
die she carried so as to throw its light full upon Lyd-
ia's face. " Yes ! " she sighed. " How pretty you
are ! And at your age you '11 look even better by
daylight I I had begun to despair of you ; I thought
you could n't be all I remembered ; but you are, —
you 're more ! I wish I had you in Rome, instead
of Venice ; there would be some use in it. There 'a
a great deal of society there, — English society ; but
never mind : I 'm going to take you to church with
me to-morrow, — the English service ; there are lota
of English in Venice now, on their way south for
the winter. I 'm crazy to see what dresses you 've
"rought; your aunt Maria has told me how she
ntted you out. I 've got two letters from her since
you started, and they're all perfectly well, dear.
Your black silk will do nicely, with bright ribbons,
especially ; I hope you have n't got it spotted or
tnything on the way over." She did not allow
t. ydia to answer, nor seem to expect it. " You 've
got your mother's eyes, Lydia, but your father had
those straight eyebrows : you 're very much like
lim. Poor Henry I And now I 'm having you got

2-16 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

something to eat. I 'm not going to risk coffee on
you, for fear it will keep you awake ; though yon
can drink it in this climate with comparative impu-
nity. Veronica is warming you a bowl of bouillon^
and that 's all you 're to have till breakfast ! "

" Why, aunt Josephine," said the girl, not know-
ing what bouillon was, and abashed by the sound
of it, " I 'm not the least hungry. You ought n't
to take the trouble " —

" You '11 be hungry when you begin to eat. I 'm
so impatient to hear about your voyage ! I am
going to introduce you to some very nice people,
here, — English people. There are no Americana
living in Venice ; and the Americans in Europe are
so queer ! You 've no idea how droll our customs
seem here ; and I much prefer the English. Your
poor uncle can never get me to ask Americans. I
tell him I 'm American enough, and he '11 have to
get on without others. Of course, he 's perfectly
delighted to get at you. You 've quite taken him
by storm, Lydia ; he 's in raptures about your looks.
It 's what I told him before you came ; but I could
n't believe it till I took a look at you. I could n't
have gone to sleep without it. Did Mr. Erwin talk
much with you ? "

" He was very pleasant. He talked — as long ai
he was awake," said Lydia.

"Tsuppose he was trying to pick up Americanismi
from you ; he 's always doing it. I keep him away
from Americans as much as I can ; but he wil

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 247

get at them on the cars and at the hotels. He '•
always asking them such ridiculous quesaota, and I
know some of them just talk nonsense to h/m."

Veronica came in with a tray, and a bowl of
bouillon on it ; and Mrs. Erwin pulled up a ligh^
table, and slid about, serving her, in' her cabalistic
dress, like an Oriental sorceress performing her in-
cantations. She volubly watched Lydia while she
ate her supper, and at the end she kissed her again.
" Now you feel better," she said. " I knew it would
cheer you up more than any one thing. There 'a
nothing like something to eat when you 're home-
sick. I found that out when I was off at school."

Lydia was hardly kissed so much at home during
a year as she had been since meeting Mrs. Erwin.
Her aunt Maria sparely embraced her when she
went and came each week from the Mill Village ;
anything more than this would have come of insin-
cerity between them ; but it had been agreed that
Mrs. Erwin's demonstrations of affection, of which
the had been lavish during her visit to South Brad-
field, might not be so false. Lydia accepted them
submissively, and she said, when Veronica returned
for the tray, " I hate to give you so much trouble.
And sending her all the way to Trieste on my ac-
count, — I felt ashamed. There was n't a thing for
her to do."

" Why, of course not I " exclaimed her aunt.
u But what did you think I was made of? Did yon
suppose I was going to have you come on a night*

248 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

journey alone with your uncle ? It would hay*
been all over Venice ; it would have been ridiculous.
I sent Veronica along for a dragon."

"A dragon? I don't understand," faltered
Lydia.

" Well, you will," said her aunt, putting the
palms of her hands against Lydia's, and so pressing
forward to kiss her. " We shall have breakfast si
ken. Gotobedl"

XXIII

Lydia came to breakfast ate found h«.

•Dele alone in the room, reading Galignani's Me*
lenger. He put down his paper, and came forward
bo take her hand. " You are all right this morning,
I see, Miss Lydia," he said. " You were quite up
a stump, last night, as your countrymen say."

At the same time hands were laid upon her
shoulders from behind, and she was pulled half
round, and pushed back, and held at arm's-length.
It was Mrs. Erwin, who, entering after her, first
scanned her face, and then, with one devouring
glance, seized every detail of her dress — the black
silk which had already made its effect — before she
kissed her. " You are lovely, my dear ! I shall
spoil you, I know ; but you 're worth it ! What
lashes you have, child I And your aunt Maria made
and fitted that dress ? She 's a genius ! "

" Miss Lydia," said Mr. Erwin, as they sat down,
* is of the fortunate age when one rises young every
morning." He looked very fresh himself in his
clean-shaven chin, and his striking evidence of
inowy wristbands and shirt -bosom. " Later in life,
you can't do that. She looks as blooming," he
added, gallantly, " as a basket of chips, — as yen
lay in America."

250 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

" Smiling," said Lydia, mechanically correcting
him.

" Ah I It is ? Smiling, — yes ; thanks. It 's very
good either way ; very characteristic. It would ta
curious to know the origin of a saying like that. I
imagine it goes back to the days of the first settlers.
It suggests a wood-chopping period. Is it — ah —
in general use ? " he inquired.

" Of course it is n't, Heushaw I " said his wife.

" You Ve been a great while out of the country,
my dear," suggested Mr. Erwin.

" Not so long as not to know that your Ameri-
canisms are enough to make one wish we had held
our tongues ever since we were discovered, or had
never been discovered at all. I want to ask Lydia
about her voyage. I have n't heard a word yet.
Did your aunt Maria come down to Boston with
you?"

" No, grandfather brought me."

" And you had good weather coming over? Mr.
Erwin told me you were not seasick."

" We had one bad storm, before we reached
Gibraltar ; but I was n't seasick."

** Were the other passengers ? "

" One was." Lydia reddened a little, and then
hirned somewhat paler than at first.

" What is it, Lydia?' her aunt subtly demanded.
* Who was the one that was sick ? "

" Oh, a gentleman," answered Lydia.

Her aunt looked at her keenly, and for whatevei

THE LADY OF THE AKOOSTOOK. 251

reason abruptly left the subject. "Your silk,"
she said, " will do very well for church, Lydia."

" Oh, I say, now ! " cried her husband, " you 're
not going to make her go to church to-day ! "

" Yes, I am I There will be more people there
to~diy than any other time this fall. She must

go-"

" But she 's tired to death, — quite tuckered, yon

know."

'* Oh, I 'm rested, now," said Lydia. " I should n't
like to miss going to church."

"Your silk," continued her aunt, "will be quite
the thing for church." She looked hard at the
dress, as if it were not quite the thing for break-
fast. Mrs. Erwin herself wore a morning-dress of
becoming delicacy, and an airy French cap ; she
had a light fall of powder on her face. " What
kind of overthing have you got ? " she asked.

" There 's a sack goes with this," said the girl,
luggestively.

" That 's nice I What is your bonnet ? "

" I have n't any bonnet. But my best hat it
nice. I could " —

" No one goes to church in a hat ! You can't do
it. It 's simply impossible."

" Why, my dear," said her husband, " I raw some
rery pretty American girls in hats at church, last
Sunday "

** Yes, and everybody knew they were Americana
by their hats I " retorted Mrs. Erwin.

252 THE LAD? OF THE AKOOSTOOK.

"/ knew they were Americans by their good
looks," said Mr. Erwin, " and what you call theii
stylishness."

** Oh, it 's all well enough for you to talk. You 're
an Englishman, and you could wear a hat, if you
liked. It would be set down to character. But in
tai American it would be set down to greenness. If
you were an American, you would have to wear a
bonnet."

" I 'm glad, then, I 'm not an American," said her
husband ; " I don't think I should look well in a
bonnet."

" Oh, stuff, Henshaw ! You know what I mean.
And I 'm not going to have English people think-
ing we 're ignorant of the common decencies of life.
Lydia shall not go to church in a hat : she had
better never go. I will lend her one of my bonnets.
Let me see, which one." She gazed at Lydia in
critical abstraction. " I wear rather young bon-
nets," she mused aloud, "and we're both rather
dark. The only difficulty is I 'm so much more
delicate " — She brooded upon the question in a
silence, from which she burst exulting. " The very
thing I I can fuss it up in no time. It won't take
two minutes to get it ready. And you '11 look just
killing in it." She turned grave again. " Hen-
ihaw," she said, " I wish you would go to church
this morning I "

"I would do almost anything for you, Josephine
•at really, you know, you ought n't to ask that. I

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 258

HTRS there last Sunday; I can't go every Sunday.
It 's bad enough in England ; a man ought to have
some relief on the Continent."

" Well, well. I suppose I ought n't to ask yon,"
tighed his wife, — " especially as you 're going with
us to-night."

** I '11 go to-night, with pleasure," said Mr. Ei
win. He rose when his wife and Lydia left the
table, and opened the door for them with a certain
courtesy he had ; it struck even Lydia's uneducated
sense as something peculiarly sweet and fine, and it
did not overawe her own simplicity, but seemed of
kind with it.

The bonnet, when put to proof, did not turn out
tc be all that it was vaunted. It looked a little
odd, from the first ; and Mrs. Erwin, when she was
herself dressed, ended by taking it off, and putting
ot Lydia the hat previously condemned. " You 're
divine in that," she said. "And after all, you are
a traveler, and I can say that some of your thinga
were spoiled coming over, — people always get
things ruined in a sea voyage, — and they '11 think
it was your bonnet."

" I kept my things very nicely, aunt Josephine,"
laid Lydia conscientiously. " I don't believe any-
thing was hurt."

" Oh, well, you can't tell till you Ve unpacked ;
»nd we 're not responsible for what people happen
io think, you know. Wait I " her aunt suddenly
med. She pulled open a drawer, and suutobed

254 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

two ribbons from it, whi< h she pinned to the
of Lydia's hat, and tied in a bow under her chin
she caught out a lace veil, and drew that over the
front of the hat, and let it hang in a loose knot be-
hind. " Now," she said, pushing her up to a rah-
rcr, that she might see, " it 's a bonnet ; and I
need n't say anything ! "

They went in Mrs. Erwin's gondola to the pal-
ace in which the English service was held, and
Lydia was silent, as she looked shyly, almost fear-
fully, round on the visionary splendors of Venice.

Mrs. Erwin did not like to be still. " What are
you thinking of, Lydia ? " she asked.

"• Oh ! I suppose I was thinking that the leaves
were beginning to turn in the sugar orchard," an-
Bwered Lydia faithfully. " I was thinking how
Btill the sun would be in the pastures, there, this
morning. I suppose the stillness here put me in
mind of it. One of these bells has the same tone
as our bell at home."

" Yes," said Mrs. Erwin. " Everybody finds a
familiar bell in Venice. There are enough of them,
goodness knows. I don't see why you call it still,
with all this clashing and banging. I suppose thia
seems very odd to you, Lydia," she continued, indi
Bating the general Venetian effect. " It 's an old
gtory to me, though. The great beauty of Ven-
tee is that you get more for your money here than
you can anywhere else in the world. There isn't
much society, however, and you must n't expect to
be very gay."

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 256

" I have never been gay," said Lydia.

" Well, that's no reason you should n't be, ' re-
lurned her aunt. " If you were in Florence, or
Rome, or even Naples, you could have a good time.
There I I 'm glad your uncle did n't. hear me aay
hat I"

" What ? " asked Lydia.

" Good time ; that 's an Americanism."

« Is it ? "

" Yes. He 's perfectly delighted when he catches
me in one. I try to break myself of them, but I
don't always know them myself. Sometimes I feel
almost like never talking at all. But you can't do
that, you know."

" No," assented Lydia.

" And you have to talk Americanisms if you 're
an American. You must n't think your uncle
is n't obliging, Lydia. He is. I ought n't to have
asked him to go to church, — it bores him so much.
I used to feel terribly about it once, when we were
firet married. But things have changed very much
of late years, especially with all this scientific talk.
In England it 's quite different from what it used
wO be. Some of the best people in society are
skeptic? now, and that makes it quite another
thing." Lydia looked grave, but she said nothing,
tnd her aunt added, "I would n't have asked him,
Wit I had a little headache, myself."

" Aunt Josephine," said Lydia, " I 'm afraid
feu 're doing too much for me. Why did n't yoo

256 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

« Come alone ? To church ! " Mrs. Erwin ad
dressed her in a sort of whispered shriek. *« It
would have been perfectly scandalous."

" To go to church alone ? " demanded Lydia, as-
tounded.

** Yes. A young girl must n't go awywhert
•lone."

"Why?"

" I '11 explain to you, sometime, Lydia ; or rather,
you '11 learn for yourself. In Italy it 's very differ-
ent from what it is in America." Mrs. Erwin sud-
denly started up and bowed with great impress-
iveness, as a gondola swept towards them. The
gondoliers wore shirts of blue silk, and long crim-
son sashes. On the cushions of the boat, beside a
hideous little man who was sucking the top of an
ivory-handled stick, reclined a beautiful woman,
pale, with purplish rings round the large black eyeg
with which, faintly smiling, she acknowledged Mrs.
Erwin's salutation, and then stared at Lydia.

" Oh, you may look, and you may look, and you
aiay look I " cried Mrs. Erwin, under her breath,
" You 've met more than your match at last I The
Countess Tatocka," she explained to Lydia. " That
was her palace we passed just now, — the one with
the iron balconies. Did you notice the gentleman
with her ? She always takes to those monsters.
He 's a Neapolitan painter, and ever so talented, —
•lever, that is. He 's dead in love with her, they
«*•'

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 257

" Are they engaged ? " asked Lydia.

"Engaged!" exclaimed Mrs. Erwin, with hei
ihriek in dumb show. " Why, child, she 's mar-
ried I"

" To him ? " demanded the girl, with a recoil.

" No ! To her husband.*'

** To her husband ? " gasped Lydia. " And
•he" —

" Why, she is n't quite well seen, even in Ven-
ice," Mrs. Erwin explained. " But she 's rich, and
her conversazioni are perfectly brilliant. She 'a
very artistic, and she writes poetry, — Polish po-
etry. I wish she could hear you sing, Lydia I I
know she '11 be frantic to see you again. But I
don't see how it 's to be managed ; her house is n't
one you can take a young girl to. And / can't ask
her : your uncle detests her."

" Do you go to her house ? " Lydia inquired
itiffly.

" Why, as a foreigner, / can go. Of course,
Lydia, you can't be as particular about everything
on the Continent as you are at home."

The former oratory of the Palazzo Grinzelli,
tfhich served as the English chapel, was filled with
travelers of both the English-speaking nationali-
ties, as distinguishable by their dress as by their
laces. Lydia's aunt affected the English style, but
•tune instinctive elegance betrayed her, and every
Englishwoman there knew and hated her for an
American, though she was a precisian in her lit-

258 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK,

urgy, instant in all the responses and genuflexion*
She found opportunity in the course of the lesson ta
make Lydia notice every one, and she gave a tele-
grammic biography of each person she knew, with
a criticism of the costume of all the strangers, man-
aging so skillfully that by the time the sermon be-
gan she was able to yield the text a statuesquely
close attention, and might have been carved in
marble where she sat as a realistic conception oi
Worship.

The sermon came to an end ; the ritual pro-
ceeded ; the hymn, with the hemming and hawing
of respectable inability, began, and Lydia lifted her
voice with the rest. Few of the people were in
their own church ; some turned and stared at her ;
the bonnets and the back hair of those who did not
look were intent upon her ; the long red neck of
one elderly Englishman, restrained by decorum
from turning his head toward her, perspired with
curiosity. Mrs. Erwin fidgeted, and dropped her
eyes from the glances which fell to her for ex-
planation of Lydia, and hurried away with her as
•oon as the services ended. In the hall on the
water-floor of the palace, where they were kept
waiting for their gondola a while, she seemed to
§hrink even from the small, surly greetings with
which people whose thoughts are on higher things
permit themselves to recognize fellow-beings of their
acquaintance in coming out of church. But an old
taly, who supported herself with a cane, pushed

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 259

through the crowd to where they stood aloof, and,
without speaking to Mrs. Erwin, put out her hand
to Lydia ; she had a strong, undaunted, plain face,
in which was expressed the habit of doing what she
liked. ** My dear," she said, " how wonderfully you
ling! Where did you get that heavenly voice?
You are an American ; I see that by your beauty.
You are Mrs. Erwin's niece, I suppose, whom she
expected. Will you come and sing to me ? Yon
must brimj her, Mrs. Erwin."

She hobbled away without waiting for an an-
swer, an<? Lydia and her aunt got into their gon-
dola. "OA / How glad I am I " cried Mrs. Erwin,
hi a joyfnl flutter. " She 's the very tip-top of the
English here ; she has a whole palace, and you
meet tb<* very best people at her house. I was
afraid when you were singing, Lydia, that they
would think your voice was too good to be good
fornr., — that 's an expression you must get ; it
means everything, — it sounded almost professional.
I wanted to nudge you to sing a little lower,
or different, or something ; but I could n't, every
body was looking so. No matter. It 's all right
now. If she liked it, nobody else will dare to
breathe. You can see that she has taken a fancy
to you : she '11 make a great pet of you."

" Who is she ? " asked Lydia, bluntly.

" Lady Fenleigh. Such a character, — so eo-
cftntrie ' But really, I suppose, very hard to liv«
«mh. It must have been quite a release for pool
bir Feiuoigh Fenleigh.'

260 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

"She did n't seem in mourning," said Lydm
14 Has he been dead long ? "

"Why, he is n't dead at all! He is what you
call a grass-widower. The best soul in the world,
everybody says, and very, very fond of her ; but
the could n't stand it ; he was too good, don't you
understand ? They 've lived apart a great many
years. She 's lived a great deal in Asia Minor, — -
jomewhere. She likes Venice ; but of course there 'a
no telling how long she may stay. She has another
house in Florence, all ready to go and be lived in at
a day's notice. I wish I had presented you I It
did go through my head ; but it did n't seem as if
I could get the Blood out. It is a fearful name,
Lydia ; I always felt it so when I was a girl, and I
was so glad to marry out of it ; and it sounds so
terribly American. I think you must take youi
mother's name, my dear. Latham is rather flattish,
but it 's worlds better than Blood."

" I am not ashamed of my father's name," said
wydia.

" But you '11 have to change it some day, at any
rate, — when you get married."

Lydia turned away. " I will be called Blood till
iben. If Lady P'enleigh " —

" Yes, my dear," promptly interrupted her aunt,
* I know that sort of independence. I used tc
hav« whole Declarations of it. But you '11 get avei
that, in Europe. There was a time — just aftei
the war — when the English quite liked our stick*

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 261

tog up for ourselves ; but that 's past now. They
like us to be outlandish, but they don't like us to
be independent. How did you like the sermon ?
Did n't you think we had a nicely-dressed congre«
gfttion ? "

" I thought the sermon was very short," answered
Lydia.

" Well, that 's the English way, and I like it
If you get in all the service, you niust make the
germon short."

Lydia did not say anything for a little while.
Then she asked, " Is the service the same at the
evening meeting ? "

" Evening meeting ? " repeated Mrs. Erwin.

'* Yes, — the church to-night."

" Why, child, there is n't any church to-night I
What are you talking about ? "

" Did n't uncle — did n't Mr. Erwin say he would
go with us to-night ? "

Mrs. Erwin seemed about to laugh, and then she
looked embarrassed. " Why, Lydia," she cried at
last, " he did n't mean church ; he meant — opera ! "

" Opera ! Sunday night ! Aunt Josephine, do
you go to the theatre on Sabbath evening ? "

There was something appalling in the girl's stern
roice. Mrs. Erwin gathered herself tremulously
together for defense. " Why, of course, Lydia, I
ion't approve of it, though I never was Orthodox.
¥"our uncle likes to go ; and if everybody 's there
that you want to see, and they will give the best
§peras Sunday night, what are you to do ? "

262 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

Lydia said nothing, but a hard look came into
her face, and she shut her lips tight.

" Now you see, Lydia," resumed her aunt, with
Rn air of deductive reasoning from the premises,
** tho advantage of having a bonnet on, even if it 'i
only a make-believe. I don't believe a soul knew
it. All those Americans had hats. You were tha
only American girl there with a bonnet. I 'm sure
that it had more than half to do with Lady Fen-
leigh's speaking to you. It showed that you had
been well brought up."

" But I never wore a bonnet to church at home,"
said Lydia.

" That has nothing to do with it, if they thought
you did. And Lydia," she continued, " I was think-
ing while you were singing there that I wouldn't
Bay anything at once about your coming over to
cultivate your voice. That 's got to be such an
American thing, now. I '11 let it out little by little,
— and after Lady Fenleigh 's quite taken you under
her wing. Perhaps we may go to Milan with you,
or to Naples, — there 's a conservatory there, too ;
and we can pull up stakes as easily as not. Well ! "
»a'd Mrs. Erwin, interrupting herself, " I 'm glad
Henshavv was n't by to hear that speech. He 'd
have had it down among his Americanisms in
gtantly. I don't know whether it is an American-
ism ; but he puts down all the outlandish sayings
ae gets hold of to Americans ; he has no end oJ
English slang in his book. Everything has opened

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 263

leautifully, Lydia, and I intend you shall have the
lest time ! " She looked fondly at her brother's
child. " You 've no idea how much you remind me
af your poor father. You have his looks exactly.
I always thought he would come out to Europe be-
fore he died. We used to be so proud of his look*
at horns ! I can remember that, though I was the
youngest, and he was ten years older than I. But
I always did worship beauty. A perfect Greek,
Mr. Rose-Black calls me : you '11 see him ; he 'a an
English painter staying here ; he comes a great
deal."

" Mrs. Erwin, Mrs. Erwin I " called a lady's voice
from a gondola behind them. The accent was
perfectly English, but the voice entirely Italian.
" Where are you running to ? "

" Why, Miss Landini ! " retorted Mrs- Erwin,
looking back over her shoulder. " Is that you ?
Where in the world are you going ? "

" Oh, I 've been to pay a visit to my old English
tencher. He 's awfully ill with rheumatism ; but
Awfully ! He can't turn in bed."

" Why, poor man I This is my niece whom I
told you I was expecting! Arrived last night!
vVe 've been to church ! " Mrs. Erwin exclaimed
tach of the facts.

The Italian girl stretched her hand across the
gunwales of the boats, which their respective gon-
Joiiers had brought skillfully side by side, and took
Lydia's hand. " I'm glad to see yon, my de*i

2t>4 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

But my God, how beautiful you Americans are,
But you don't look American, you know ; you look
Spanish ! I shall come a great deal to see you, and
practice my English."

" Come home with us now, Miss Landini, and
have lunch," said Mrs. Erwin.

" No, my dear, I can't. My aunt will be raising
the devil if I 'm not there to drink coffee with hei ;
and I 've been a great while away now. Till to-
morrow I " Miss Landini's gondolier pushed his
boat away, and rowed it up a narrow canal on the
right.

"I suppose," Mrs. Erwin explained, "that she 'a
really her mother, — everybody says so ; • but she
always calls her aunt. Dear knows who her father
was. But she 's a very bright girl, Lydia, and
you '11 like her. Don't you think she speaks Eng-
lish wonderfully for a person who 's never been out
of Venice?"

" Why does she swear ? " asked Lydia, stonily.

" Swear ? Oh, I know what you mean. That 'a
the funniest thing about Miss Landini. Your uncle
»ays it 's a shame to correct her ; but I do, when-
ever I think of it. Why, you know, such words aa
God and devil don't sound at all wicked in Italian,
>ind ladies use them quite commonly. She under-
stands that it is n't good form to do so in English,
bat wben she gets excited she forgets. Well, you
mn't say but what she was impressed, Lydia I "

After lunch, various people came to call upoa

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 266

MPJ. Erwin. Several of them were Italians who
were learning English, and they seemed to think it
inoffensive to say that they were glad of the oppor-
tunity to practice the language with Lydia. They
ialked local gossip with her aunt, and they spoke
of an approaching visit to Venice from the king ;
it seemed to Lydia that the king's character was
not good. .

Mr. Rose-Black, the English artist, came. He
gave himself the effect of being in Mrs. Erwin'a
confidence, apparently without her authority, and
he bestowed a share of this intimacy upon Lydia.
He had the manner of a man who had been taken
up by people above him, and the impudence of a
talent which had not justified the expectations
formed of it. He softly reproached Mrs. Erwin for
running away after service before he could speak to
her, and told her how much everybody had been
enchanted by her niece's singing. " At least, they
laid it was your niece."

" Oh, yes, Mr. Rose-Black, let me introduce you
to Miss " — Lydia looked hard, even to threaten-
ing, at her aunt, and Mrs. Erwin added, " Blood."

" I beg your pardon," said Mr. Rose-Black, with
his picked-up politeness, " I did n't get the name.'

" Blood," said Mrs. Erwin, more distinctly.

" Aoh 1 " said Mr. Rose-Black, in a cast-off ao
Dent of jaded indifferentism, just touched with dis-
pleasure. " Yes," he added, dreamily, to Lydia,
'*it was divine, you know. You might say it

266 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOIK.

needed training; but it had the naive sweetn«*i
we associate with your countrywomen. They 're
greatly admired in England now, you know, fo*
their beauty. Oh, I assure you, it's quite the
thing to admire American ladies. I want to ar-
range a little lunch at my studio for Mrs. Erwin
and yourself ; and I want you to abet fne in itj
Miss Blood." Lydia stared at him, but he was not
troubled. " I 'm going to ask to sketch you. Re-
ally, you know, there 's a poise — something bird-
like — a sort of repose in movement " — He sat
in a corner of the sofa, with his head fallen back,
and abandoned to an absent enjoyment of Lydia'a
pictorial capabilities. He was very red ; his full
beard, which started as straw color, changed to red
when it got a little way from his face. He wore a
suit of rough blue, the coat buttoned tightly about
him, and he pulled a glove through his hand as he
talked. He was scarcely roused from his reverie
by the entrance of an Italian officer, with his hus-
sar jacket hanging upon one shoulder, and hia
sword caught up in his left hand. He ran swiftly
*o Mrs. Erwin, and took her hand.

" Ah, my compliments ! I come practice my
English with you a little. Is it well said, a little,
or do you say a small ? "

" A little, cavaliere," answered Mrs. Erwin, ami
ably. " But you must say a good deal, in thii

" Yes, yes, — good deal. For what ? ''

THE LADY OF THE AR003TOOK. 267

'* Let me introduce you to my niece, Colonel
Pazzelli," said Mrs. Erwin.

•v Ah I Too much honor, too much honor ! "
murmured the cavaliere. He brought his heels to>
gether with a click, and drooped towards Lydia till
his head was on a level with his hips. Recovering
himself, he caught up his eye-glasses, and bent them
on Lydia. " Very please, very honored, much " —
He stopped, and looked confused, and Lydia turned
pale and red.

" Now, won't you play that pretty barcarole you
played the other night at Lady Fenleigh's ? " en-
treated Mrs. Erwin.

Colonel Pazzelli wrenched himself from the fasci-
nation of Lydia's presence, and lavished upon Mrs.
Erwin the hoarded English of a week. " Yes,
yes ; very nice, very good. With much pleasure.
I thank you. Yes, I play." He was one of those
natives who in all the great Italian cities haunt
English-speaking societies ; they try to drink tea
without grimacing, and sing for the ladies of our
race, who innocently pet them, finding them so
very like other women in their lady-like sweet-
ness and softness ; it is said they boast among their
»wn countrymen of their triumphs. The cavaliere
unbuckled his sword, and laying it across a chair
bat down at the piano. He played not one but
many barcaroles, and seemed loath to leave the in-
itnmient.

* Now, Lydia," said Mrs. Erwin, loudly, " won't
Ton sing us something ? "

268 THE LADY OF THE ABOOSTOOK.

»* Do . " called Mr. Rose-Black from the sofa
with the intonation of a spoiled first-cousin, or half-
brother.

44 1 don't feel like singing to-day," answered
Lydia, immovably. Mrs. Erwin was about to urge
her further, but other people came in, — some Jew-
ish ladies, and then a Russian, whom Lydia took at
first for an American. They all came and went,
but Mr. Rose-Black remained in his corner of the
iofa, and never took his eyes from Lydia's face.
At last he went, and then Mr. Erwin looked in.

44 Is that beast gone ? " he asked. 44 1 shall be
obliged to show him the door, yet, Josephine.
You ought to snub him. He 's worse than his pict-
ures. Well, you 've had a whole raft of folks to
day, — as your countrymen say."

44 Yes, thank Heaven," cried Mrs. Erwin, " and
they're all gone. I don't want Lydia to think
that I let everybody come to see me on Sunday.
Thursday is my day, Lydia, but a few privileged
friends understand that they can drop in Sunday
afternoon-" She gave Lydia a sketch of the life
and character of each of these friends. 44 And
now I must tell you that your manner is very good,
Lydia. That reserved way of yours is quite the
thing for a young girl in Europe : I suppose it 's a
gift ; I never could get it, even when I was a girl.
But you must n't show any hauteur, even when you
dislike people, and you refused to sing with rather
too much aplomb. I don't suppose it was noticed*

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 269

though, — those ladies coming in at the same time,
Really, I thought Mr. Rose-Black and Colonel
Pazzelli were trying to outstare each other! It
was certainly amusing. I never saw such an evi-
dent case, Lydia ! The poor cavaliere looked as if
he had seen you somewhere before in a dream, and
was struggling to make it all out."

Lydia remained impassive. Presently she said
•he would go to her room, and write home before
dinner. When she went out Mrs. Erwin fetched a
deep sigh, and threw herself upon her husband's
sympathy.

" She 's terribly unresponsive," she began. " I
supposed she 'd be in raptures with the place, at
least, but you would n't know there was anything
at all remarkable in Venice from anything she 's
said. We have met ever so many interesting
people to-day, — the Countess Tatocka, and Lady
Fenleigh, and Miss Landini, and everybody, but I
Jon't roally think she 's said a word about a soul
She 's too queer for anything."

" I dare say she has n't the experience to be
tstonished from," suggested Mr. Erwin easily.
' She 's here as if she 'd been dropped down from
her village."

" Yes, that 's true," considered his wife. " But
it 's hard, with Lydia's air and style and self-posses-
lion, to realize that she is merely a village girl."

" She may be much more impressed than she
jhooees to show," Mr. Erwin continued. " I re-

270 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK..

member a very curious essay by a French
about your countrymen : he contended that they
were characterized by a savage stoicism through
their contact with the Indians."

44 Nonsense, Henshaw I There has n't been an
Indian near South Bradfield for two hundred years.
And besides that, am / stoical ? "

" I 'in bound to say," replied her husband, " that
•o far as you go, you 're a complete refutation of the
theory."

" I hate to see a young girl so close," fretted
Mrs. Erwin. " But perhaps," she added, more
cheerfully, " she '11 be the easier managed, being so
passive. She doesn't seem at all willful, — that's
one comfort."

She went to Lydia's room just before dinner, and
found the girl with her head fallen on her arms
upon the table, where she had been writing. She
looked up, and faced her aunt with swollen eyes.

" Why, poor thing ! " cried Mrs. Erwin. " What
is it, dear ? What is it, Lydia ? " she asked, ten-
derly, and she pulled Lydia's face down upon her
neck.

" Oh, nothing," said Lydia. "I suppose I was a
little homesick ; writing home made me."

She somewhat coldly suffered Mrs. Erwin to kis§
her and smooth her hair, while she began to talk
•arith her of her grandfather and her aunt at home.
v But this is going to be home to you now," said
lira, Erwin, " and I 'in not going to let you be sick

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 271

for any other. I want you to treat me just like a
mother, or an older sister, Perhaps I shan't be the
wisest mother to you in the world, but I mean to
be one of the best. Come, now, bathe your eyes,
my dear, and let 's go to dinner. I don't like to
keep your uncle waiting." She did not go at once,
but showed Lydia the appointments of the room,
and lightly indicated what she had caused to be
done, and what she had done with her own hands,
to make the place pretty for her. " And new shall
I take your letter, and have your uncle post it this
evening ? " She picked up the letter from the table.
" Had n't you any wax to seal it ? You know
they don't generally mucilage their envelopes in Eu-
rope."

Lydia blushed. " I left it open for you to read.
I thought you ought to know what I wrote."

Mrs. Erwin dropped her hands in front of her,
with the open letter stretched between them, and
looked at her niece in rapture. "Lydia," she
cried, " one would suppose you had lived all your
days in Europe ! Showing me your letter, thia
way, — why, it 's quite like a Continental girl."

" I thought it was no more than right you should
lee what I was writing home," said Lydia, mire*
•pensively.

" Well, no matter, even if it was right," replied
Mrs. Erwin. " It comes to the same thing. And
aow, as you 've been quite a European daughter,
I 'm going to be a real American mother." She

272 THE LADY OF THK AROOSTOuK.

took up the wax, and sealed Lydia's letter without
looking into it. " There I " she said, triumphantly.

She was very good to Lydia all through dinner,
and made her talk of the simple life at home, ana
the village characters whom she remembered from
her last summer's visit. That amused Mr. Erwin,
who several times, when his wife was turning the
talk upon Lydia's voyage over, intervened with
gome new question about the life of the queer little
Yankee hill-town. He said she must tell Lady
Fenleigh about it, — she was fond of picking up
those curios ; it would make any one's social fortune
who could explain such a place intelligibly in Lon-
don ; when they got to having typical villages of the
different civilizations at the international exposi-
tions, — as no doubt they would, — somebody must
really send South Bradfield over. He pleased him-
self vastly with this fancy, till Mrs. Erwin, who
had been eying Lydia critically from time to time,
as if making note of her features and complexion,
said she had a white cloak, and that in Venice,
where one need not dress a great deal for the opera,
Lydia could wear it that night.

Lydia looked up in astonishment, but she sat
passive during her aunt's discussion of her plans.
When they rose from table, she said, at her stillest
and coldest, " Aunt Josephine, I want you to ex-
ftuse me from going with you to-night. I don't feel
like going."

44 Not feel like going ! " exclaimed her aunt in
dinuay. " Why, your uncle has taken a box I "

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 278

Lydia opposed nothing to this argument. Sh«
inly said, " I would rather not go."

" Oh, but you will, dear," coaxed her aunt.
"You would enjoy it so much."

" I thought you understood from what I said to-
day," replied Lydia, " that I could not go."

" Why, uo, I did n't ! I knew you objected ; bat
if I thought it was proper for you to go " —

" I should not go at home," said Lydia, in the
lame immovable fashion.

" Of course not. Every place has its customs, and
in Venice it has always been the custom to go to
the opera on Sunday night." This fact had no visi-
ble weight with Lydia, and after a pause her aunt
added, " Did n't Paul himself say to do in Rome aa
the Romans do ? "

" No, aunt Josephine," cried Lydia, indignantly,
»* he did not ! "

Mrs. Erwin turned to her husband with a face of
appeal, and he answered, " Really, my dear, I
think you 're mistaken. I always had the impres-
sion that the saying was — an Americanism of some
lort."

" But it does n't matter," interposed Lydia de-
cisively. " I could n't go, if I did n't think it waa
right, whoever said it."

" Oh, well," began Mrs. Erwin, "if you would

n't mind what Paul said " — She suddenly checked

nerself, and after a little silence she resumed,

Kindly, " 1 won't try to force you, Lydia. I did n't

II

274 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

realize what a very short time it is since you left
home, and how you still have all those ideas. I
wouldn't distress you about them for the world,
my dear. I want you to feel at home with me, and
I 11 make it as like home for you as I can in every-
thing. Henshaw, I think you must go alone, thia
evening. I will stay with Lydia."

" Oh, no, no ! I could n't let you ; I can't let
you ! I shall not know what to do if I keep you at
home. Oh, don't leave it that way, please I I shall
feel so badly about it " —

" Why, we can both stay," suggested Mr. Erwin,
kindly.

Lydia's lips trembled and her eyes glistened, and
Mrs. Erwin said, " I '11 go with you, Henshaw. I '11
be ready in half an hour. I won't dress much."
She added this as if not to dress a great deal at the
opera Sunday night might somehow be accepted M
•n observance of the Sabbath.

XXIV

THE next morning Veronica brought Lydia a
iit.'le scrawl from her aunt, bidding the girl coma
and breakfast with her in her room at nine.

" Well, my dear," her aunt called to her from
her pillow, when she appeared, " you find me flat
enough, this morning. If there was anything wrong
about going to the opera last night, I was properly
punished for it. Such wretched stuff as I never
heard ! And instead of the new ballet that they
promised, they gave an old thing that I had seen till
I was sick of it. You did n't miss much, I can tell
you. How fresh and bright you do look, Lydia I "
she sighed. " Did you sleep well ? Were you
lonesome while we were gone ? Veronica says you
were reading the whole evening. Are you fond of
reading?"

" I don't think I am, very," said Lydia. " It was
a book that I began on the ship. It 's a novel."
She hesitated. "I wasn't reading it; I was just
looking at it."

" What a queer child you are ! I suppose you
were dying to read it, and would n't because it wa«
Sunday. Well ! " Mrs. Erwin put her hand under
her pillow, and pulled out a gossamer handkerchief,
irith which she delicately touched her complexion

276 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

here and there, and repaired with an instincth
rearrangement of powder the envious ravages of -
§light rash about her nose. " I respect your higTi
principles beyond anything, Lydia, and if they can
only be turned in the right direction they will never
be any disadvantage to you." Veronica came in
with the breakfast on a tray, and Mrs. Erwin added
" Now, pull up that little table, and bring your
chair, my dear, and let us take it easy. I like to
talk while I 'm breakfasting. Will you pour out my
chocolate ? That 's it, in the ugly little pot with
the wooden handle ; the copper one 's for you, with
coffee in it. I never could get that repose which
seems to come perfectly natural to you. I was
always inclined to be a little rowdy, my dear, and
I Ve had to fight hard against it, without any help
from either of my husbands ; men like it ; they
think it 's funny. When I was first married, I was
very young, and so was he; it was a real love
match ; and my husband was very well off, and
when I began to be delicate, nothing would do but
he must come to Europe with me. How little I
ever expected to outlive him ! "

" You don't look very sick now," began Lydia.

*% 111,"' said her aunt. " You must say ill. Sick
is an Americanism."

" It 's in the Bible," said Lydia, gravely.

" Oh, there are a great many words in the Biblt
you can't use," returned her aunt. " No, I don't
ook ill now, and I 'm worlds better. Bat J

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 277

could n't Ihe a year in any other climate, I supjwae.
You seem to take after your mother's side. Well,
as I was saying, the European ways didn't come
natural to me, at all. I used to have a great deal
of gayety when I was a girl, and I liked beaux and
attentions ; and I had very free ways. I could n't
get their stiffness here for years and years, and all
through my widowhood it was one wretched failure
with me. Do what I would, I was always violat-
ing the most essential rules, and the worst of it was
that it only seemed to make me the more popular.
I do believe it was nothing but my rowdiness that
attracted Mr. Erwin ; but I determined when I had
got an Englishman I would make one bold strike
for the proprieties, and have them, or die in the
attempt. I determined that no Englishwoman I
ever saw should outdo me in strict conformity to
all the usages of European society. So I cut my-
self off from all the Americans, and went with no-
body but the English."

" Do you like them better ? " asked Lydia, with
the blunt, child-like directness that had already
more than once startled her aunt.

"Like them! I detest them! If Mr. Erwin
were a real Englishman, I think I should go crazy ,
but he 's been so little in his own country — all hia
life in India, nearly, and the rest on the Continent,
— that he 's quite human ; and no American hus-
band was ever more patient and indulgent; and
JAai '* saying a good deal. He would be glad u>

278 THE LADY OF THE ABOOSTOOK.

have nothing but Americans around ; he has an er>
thusiasm for them, — or for what he supposes they
are. Like the English ! You ought to have heard
them during our war ; it would have made your
ilood boil ! And then how they came crawling
/ound after it was all over, and trying to pet mi
up! Ugh!"

" If you feel so about them," said Lydia, as be-
fore, "why do you want to go with them BO
much ? "

" My dear," cried her aunt, " to beat them with
their own weapons on their own ground, — to show
them that an American can be more European than
any of them, if she chooses ! And now you 've
come here with looks and temperament and every-
thing just to my hand. You 're more beautiful
than any English girl ever dreamt of being ; you 're
very distinguished-looking ; your voice is perfectly
divine ; and you 're colder than an iceberg. <9A,
if I only had one winter with you in Rome, I think
I should die in peace ! " Mrs. Erwin paused, and
drank her chocolate, which she had been letting
cool in the eagerness of her discourse. " But, never
mind," she continued, " we will do the best we can.
here. I 've seen English girls going out two or
three together, without protection, in Rome and
\ Florence ; but I mean that you shall be quite
Italian in that respect. The Italians never go out
without a chaperone of some sort, and you must
never be seen without me, or your uncle, of

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 27$

Veronica. Now I '11 tell yon how you must do at
parties, and so on. You must be very retiring;
you 're that, any way ; but you must always keep
close to me. It does n't do for young people to
talk much together in society ; it makes scandal
about a girl. If you dance, you must always hurry
back to me. Dear me ! " exclaimed Mrs. Erwin,
"I remember how, when I was a girl, I used to
hang on to the young men's arms, and promenade
with them after a dance, and go out to supper with
them, and flirt on the stairs, — such times ! But
that would n't do here, Lydia. It would ruin a
girl's reputation ; she could hardly walk arm in
arm with a young man if she was engaged to him.'*
Lydia blushed darkly red, and then turned paler
than usual, while her aunt went on. " You might
do it, perhaps, and have it set down to American
eccentricity or under-breeding, but I 'm not going
to have that. I intend you to be just as dull and
diffident in society as if you were an Italian, and
more than if you were English. Your voice, of
course, is a difficulty. If you sing, that will make
you conspicuous, in spite of everything. But T
don't see why that can't be turned to advantage ;
it 's no worse than your beauty. Yes, if you 're
so splendid-looking and so gifted, and at the same
time as stupid as the rest, it 's so much clear gain.
,t >fill come easy for you to be shy with men, for I
luppose you 've hardly ever talked with any, living
ftp thoro in that out-of-the-way village ; and yaw

280 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

manner is very good. It 's reserved, and yet ii
is n't green. The way," continued Mrs. Erwin,
44 to treat men in Europe is to behave as if they
were guilty till they prove themselves innocent.
All you have to do is to reverse all your American
ideas. But here I am, lecturing you as if you had
been just such a girl as I was, with half a dozen
love affairs on her hands at once, and no end ol
gentlemen friends. Europe won't be hard for you,
my dear, for you have n't got anything to unlearn.
But some girls that come over! — it's perfectly
ridiculous, the trouble they get into, and the time
they have getting things straight. They take it foi
granted that men in good society are gentlemen, —
what we mean by gentlemen."

Lydia had been letting her coffee stand, and had
scarcely tasted the delicious French bread and the
sweet Lombard butter of which her aunt ate so
heartily. "Why, child," said Mrs. Erwin, at last,
"where is your appetite? One would think you
were the elderly invalid who had been up late.
Did yon find it too exciting to sit at home looking
at a novel ? What was it ? If it 's a new story I
ihould like to see it. But you did n't bring a novel
from South Bradfield with you? "

44 No," said Lydia, with a husky reluctance. " One
of the — passengers gave it to me."

44 Had you many passengers ? But of course not.
That was what made it so delightful when I came
tver that way. I was newly married then, and

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 281

irith spirits — oh dear me ! — for anything. It was
one adventure, the whole way ; and we got so well
acquainted, it was like one family. I suppose your
grandfather put you in charge of some family. I
know artists sometimes come out that way, and
people for their health."

" There was no family on our ship," said Lydia.
'* My state-room had been fixed up for the captain'i
wife " —

" Our captain's wife was along, too," interposed
Mrs. Erwin. " She was such a joke with us. She
had been out to Venice on a voyage before, and
used to be always talking about the Du-cal Palace.
And did they really turn out of their state-room
for you ? "

" She was not along," said Lydia.

" Not along ? " repeated Mrs. Erwin, feebly.
M Who — who were the other passengers ? "

" There were three gentlemen," answered Lydia.

" Three gentlemen ? Three men? Three— And
y^u — and " — Mrs. Erwin fell back upon her pil-
low, and remained gazing at Lydia, with a sort of
remote bewildered pity, as at perdition, not indeed
beyond compassion, but far beyond help. Lydia's
color had been coming and going, but now it settled
to a clear white. Mrs. Erwin commanded heraeli
lufficiently to resume : " And there were — there
irere — no other ladies ? "

"No."

" And you were ' —

282 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

** I was the only woman on board," replied Lydia
She rose abruptly, striking the edge of the table in
her movement, and setting its china and silver jar-
ring. " Oh, I know what you mean, aunt Jose-
phine, but two days ago I could n't have dreamt it I
From the time the ship sailed till I reached thij
wicked place, there was n't a word said nor a look
looked to make me think I was n't just as right and
safe there as if I had been in my own room at
home They were never anything but kind and
good to me. They never let me think that they
could be my enemies, or that I must suspect them
and be on the watch against them. They wore
Americans 1 I had to wait for one of your Eu-
ropeans to teach me that, — for that officer who waa
here yesterday " —

" The cavaliere ? Why, where " —

" He spoke to me in the cars, when Mr. Erwin
was asleep I Had he any right to do so ?"

" He would think he had, if he thought you wer«
alone," said Mrs. Erwin, plaintively. " I don't see
how we could resent it. It was simply a mistake
on his part. And now you see, Lydia " —

" Oh, I see how my coming the way I have will
•eem to all these people ! " cried Lydia, with paa-
sionate despair. " I know how it will seem to that
tnarried woman who lets a man be in love with her
and that old woman who can't live with her hus»
band because he 's too good and kind, and that girl
trho swears and does n't know who her father La,

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 283

Mid that impudent painter, and that officer who
thinks he has the right to insult women if he finds
them alone ! I wonder the sea does n't swallow up
a place where even Americans go to the theatre on
the Sabbath!"

" Lydia, Lydia ! It is n't so bad as it seems to
you," pleaded her aunt, thrown upon the defensive
by the girl's outburst. " There are ever so many
good and nice people in Venice, and I know them,
too, — Italians as well as foreigners. And even
amongst those you saw, Miss Landini is one of the
kindest girls hi the world, and she had just been to
see her old teacher when we met her, — she half
takes care of him ; and Lady Fenleigh 's a perfect
mother to the poor ; and I never was at the Count-
ess Tatocka's except in the most distant way, at a
ball where everybody went ; and is it better to let
your uncle go to the opera alone, or to go with
him ? You told me to go with him yourself ; and
they consider Sunday over, on the Continent, after
morning service, any way ! "

" Oh, it makes no difference ! " retorted Lydia,
wildly. " I am going away. I am going home. I
have money enough to get to Trieste, and the pJrip
IB there, and Captain Jenness will take me b{*ek
wnth him. Oh I " she moaned. " He has been in
Europe, too, and I suppose he 's like the rest of
you ; and he thought because I was alone and help-
less he had the right to — Oh, I see it, I see n^**
lhat he never meant anything, and — Oh, :>h, oh

284 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

She fell on her knees beside the bed, as if crushed
to them by the cruel doubt that suddenly over-
whelmed her, and flung out her arms oil Mrs. Er«
mn's coverlet — it was of Venetian lace sewed
upon silk, a choice bit from the palace of one of
the ducal families — and buried her face in it.

Her aunt rose from her pillow, and looked in
Bonder and trouble at the beautiful fallen head,
and the fair young figure shaken with sobs. " He
— who — what are you talking about, Lydia ?
Whom do you mean ? Did Captain Jenness " —

" No, no ! " wailed the girl, " the one that gave
me the book."

" The one that gave you the book ? The book
you were looking at last night ? "

" Yes," sobbed Lydia, with her voice muffled in
the coverlet.

Mrs. Erwin lay down again with significant de-
libel ation. Her face was still full of trouble, but
of bewilderment no longer. In moments of great
distress the female mind is apt to lay hold of some
minor anxiety for its distraction, and to find a cer-
tain relief in it. " Lydia," said her aunt in a
broken voice, " I wish you would n't cry in the cov-
erlet : it ioes n't hurt the lace, but it stains the
iilk." Lydia swept her handkerchief under her
face but did not lift it. Her aunt accepted the
sompromise. " How came he to give you the
book?"

" Oh, I don't know. I can't tell. I thought it

THE IADY OF THE ABOOSTOOK. 285

iras because — because — It was almost at the
very beginning. . And after that he walked up and
down with me every night, nearly ; and be tried to
be with me all he could ; and he was always saying
things to make me think — Oh dear, oh dear, oh
dear ! And he tried to make me care for him ! Oh
it was cruel, cruel ! "

" You mean that he made love to you ? " asked
her aunt.

" Yes — no — I don't know. He tried to make
me care for him, and to make me think he cared for
me."

" Did he say he cared for you ? Did he " —

" No ! "

Mrs. Erwin mused a while before she said, " Yes.
it was cruel indeed, poor child, and it was cowardly,
too."

" Cowardly ? " Lydia lifted her face, and flashed
a glance of tearful fire at her aunt. " He is the
bravest man in the world ! And the most generous
and high-minded I He jumped into the sea after
that wicked Mr. Hicks, and saved his life, when he
disliked him worse than anything ! "

"Who was Mr. Hicks?"

** He was the one that stopped at Messina. He
was the one that got some brandy at Gibraltar, and
behaved so dreadfully, and wanted to fight him."

"Whom?"

"This one. The one who gave me the book,
tad don't you see that his being so good *uak<w it

286 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

all the worse ? Yes ; and he pretended to be glad
when I told him I thought he was good, — he got
me to say it 1 " She had her face down again in
her handkerchief. " And I suppose you think it
was horrible, too, for me to take his arm, and talk
Knd walk with him whenever he asked me ! "

"No, not for you, Lydia," said her aunt, gently
" And don't you think now," she asked after 9
pause, " that he cared for you ? "

" Oh, I did think so, — I did believe it ; but
now, now " —

"Now, what?"

" Now, I 'm afraid that may be he was only play-
ing with me, and putting me off ; and pretending
that he had something to tell me when he got to
Venice, and he never meant anything by anything."

" Is he coming to " — her aunt began, but Lydia
broke vehemently out again.

" If he had cared for me, why could n't he have
told me so at once, and not had me wait till he got
to Venice ? He knew I " —

" There are two ways of explaining it," said Mrs.
Erwin. " He may have been in earnest, Lydia, and
felt that he had no right to be more explicit till
yon were in the care of your friends. That would
be the European way which you consider so bad,"
said Mrs. Erwin. " Under the circumstances, it
was impossible for him to keep any distance, and
*11 he could do was to postpone his declaration til]
there could be something like good form about it.

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 287

Fes, it might have been that." She was silent, but
the troubled look did not leave her face. "I am
lorry for you, Lydia," she resumed, " but I don't
know that I wish he was in earnest." Lydia looked
up at her in dismay. "It might be far less em-
barrassing the other way, however painful. He
n&ay not be at all a suitable person." The tears
itood in Lydia's eyes, and all her face expressed a
puzzled suspense. " Where was he from ? " asked
Mrs. Erwin, finally; till then she had been more
interested in the lover than the man.

" Boston," mechanically answered Lydia.

" What was his name ? "

" Mr. Staniford," owned Lydia, with a blush.

Her aunt seemed dispirited at the sound. " Yes,
I know who they are," she sighed.

" And are n't they nice ? Is n't he — suitable ? "
asked Lydia, tremulously.

" Oh, poor child ! He 's only too suitable. 1
can't explain to you, Lydia ; but at home he
wouldn't have looked at a girl like you. What
sort of looking person is he ? "

" He 's rather — red ; and he has — light hair."

" It must be the family I 'm thinking of," said
Mrs. Erwin. She had lived nearly twenty years in
Europe, and had seldom revisited her native city ;
but at the sound of a Boston name she was all
Bostonian again. She rapidly sketched the history
of the family to which she imagined Staniford to
belong. " I remember his sister ; I used to see hei

288 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

at school. She must have been five or six yeart
younger than I ; and this boy " —

" Why, he 's twenty-eight years old I " inter
rupted Lydia.

"How came he to tell you ? "

" I don't know. He said that he looked thirty
four."

" Yes ; she was always a forward thing too, —
with her freckles," said Mrs. Erwin, musingly, ai
if lost in reminiscences, not wholly pleasing, of Mist
Stamford.

" He has freckles," admitted Lydia.

"Yes, it's the one," said Mrs. Erwin. "He
could n't have known what your family was from
anything you said ? "

** We never talked about our families."

" Oh, I dare say 1 You talked about your-
Helves ? "

" Yes."

"All the time?"

" Pretty nearly."

" And he did n't try to find out who or what you
were?"

" He asked a great deal about South Bradfield."

" Of course, that was where he thought you had
always belonged." Mrs. Erwin lay quiescent for a
while, in apparent uncertainty as to how she should
next attack the subject. " How did you first
•wet?"

Lydia began with the scene on Lucas Wharf

THE LADY OK THE AROOSTOOK. 28S

md little by little told the whole story up to th«
moment of their parting at Trieste. There were
lapses and pauses in the story, which her aunt was
never at a loss to fill aright. At the end she said,
** If it were not for his promising to come here and
•ce you, I should say Mr. Stamford had been flirt-
ing, and as it is he may not regard it as anything
more than flirtation. Of course, there was his be-
ing jealous of Mr. Dunham and Mr. Hicks, as he
certainly was ; and his wanting to explain about
that lady at Messina — yes, that looked peculiar;
but he may not have meant anything by it. His
parting so at Trieste with you, that might be either
because he was embarrassed at its having got to be
such a serious thing, or because he really felt badly.
Lydia," she asked at last, " what made you think
he cared for you ? "

" I don't know," said the girl ; her voice had sunk
to a husky whisper. " I did n't believe it till he
said he wanted me to be his — conscience, and tried
to make me say he was good, and " —

" That 's a certain kind of man's way of flirting.
It may mean nothing at all. I could tell in an
instant, if I saw him."

" He said he would be here this afternoon," mur-
mured Lydia, tremulously.

" This afternoon ! " cried Mrs. Erwin. " I must
pet up I "

At her toilette she had the exaltation and fur)
if a champion arming for battle.

XXV

ME. EBWIN entered about the completion of hen
preparations, and without turning round from hei
glass she said, " I want you to think of the worst
thing you can, Henshaw. I don't see how I 'm ever
to lift up my head again." As if this word had
reminded her of her head, she turned it from side
to side, and got the effect in the glass, first of one
ear-ring, and then of the other. Her husband
patiently waited, and she now confronted him.
" You may as well know first as last, Henshaw,
and I want you to prepare yourself for it. Noth-
ing can be done, and you will just have to live
through it. Lydia — has come over — on that
ship — alone, — with three young men, — and not
the shadow — not the ghost — of another woman —
on board I " Mrs. Erwin gesticulated with her
hand-glass in delivering the words, in a mariner at
once intensely vivid and intensely solemn, yet some-
how falling short of the due tragic effect. Hei
husband stood pulling his mustache straight down,
while his wife turned again to the mirror, and put
:.he final touches to her personal appearance with
hands which she had the effect of having desper-
ately washed of all responsibility. He stood so
long m this meditative mood that she was obliged

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 291

to be peremptory with his image in the glass,
«« Well ? " she cried.

" Why, my dear," said Mr. Erwin, at last, " they
were all Americans together, you know."

"And what difference does that make?" de-
manded Mrs. Erwin, whirling from his image to
ihe man again.

" Why, of course, you know, it is n't as if they
were — English." Mrs. Erwin flung down three
hair-pins upon her dressing-case, and visibly de-
spaired. " Of course you don't expect your coun-
trymen " — His wife's appearance was here so
terrible that he desisted, and resumed by saying,
** Don't be vexed, my dear. I — I rather like it, you
know. It strikes me as a genuine bit of American
civilization."

" American civilization ! Oh, Henshaw ! ' wailed
Mrs. Erwin, " is it possible that after all I 've said,
and done, and lived, you still think that any one but
% girl from the greenest little country place could
lo such a thing as that ? Well, it is no use trying
to enlighten English people. You like it, do you ?
Well, I 'm not sure that the Englishman who mis-
inderstands American things and likes them is n't
a little worse than the Englishman who misunder-
stands them and dislikes them. You all misunder-
rtand them. And would you like it, if one of the
young men had been making love to Lydia? "

The amateur of our civilization hesitated and wai
wrious, but he said at last, " Why, you know, I 'n»

292 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

Dot surprised. She 's so uncommonly pretty. I — 1
iuppose they 're engaged ? " he suggested.

His wife held her peace for scorn. Then she said,
" The gentleman is of a very good Boston family,
and would no more think of engaging himself to a
young girl without the knowledge of her friendi
than you would. Besides, he 's been in Europe a
great deal."

" I wish I could meet some Americans who had
n't been in Europe," said Mr. Erwin. " I should
like to see what you call the simon-pure American.
As for the young man's not engaging himself, it
seems to me that he did n't avail himself of his na-
tional privileges. I should certainly have done it in
his place, if I 'd been an American."

" Well, if you 'd been an American, you would
n't," answered his wife.

" Why ? "

" Because an American would have had too much
delicacy."

" I don't understand that."

" I know you don't, Henshaw. And there '§
vhere you show yourself an Englishman."

" Really," said her husband, " you 're beginning
to crow, my dear. Come, I like that a great deal
better than your cringing .to the effete despotisms
•wf the Old World, as your Fourth of July orators
biKve it. It 's almost impossible to get a bit of good
honest bounce out of an American, nowadays, — to
get him to spread himself, as you say."

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 29S

" All that is neither here nor there, Henshaw,"
laid his wife. " The question is how to receive Mr.
Btanif ord — that 's his name — when he comes. How
are we to regard him ? He 's coming here to se«
Lydia, and she thinks he 's coming to propose."

" Excuse me, but how does she regard him ? "

44 Oh, there 's no question about that, poor child
Bhe 's dead in love with him, and can't understand
why he didn't propose on shipboard."

44 And she is n't an Englishman, either ! " exulted
Mr. Erwin. " It appears that there are Americans
and Americans, and that the men of your nation
have more delicacy than the women like."

" Don't be silly," said his wife. " Of course,
women always think what they would do in such
cases, if they were men ; but if men did what women
think they would do if they were men, the women
would be disgusted."

44 Oh ! "

44 Yes. Her feeling in the matter is no guide."

44 Do you know his family ? " asked Mr. Erwin.

" I think I do. Yes, I 'm sure I do."

44 Are they nice people ? "

44 Have 'nt I told you they were a good Boston
kamily ? "

44 Then upon my word, I don't see that we Ve to
lake any attitude at all. I don't see that we Ve tc
regard him in one way or the other. It quite re
uains for him to make the first move."

As if they had been talking of nothing but dreai

294 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

before, Mrs. Erwin asked : " Do you think I look
better in this black mexicaine, or would you weal
your e"cru ? "

44 1 think you look very well in this. But why —
He is n't going to propose to you, I hope ? "

44 1 must have on something decent to receive him
,ju What time does the train from Trieste get
01?"

44 At three o'clock."

44 It 's one, now. There 's plenty of time, but
there isn't any too much. I '11 go and get Lydia
ready. Or perhaps you '11 tap on her door, Henshaw,
and send her here. Of course, this is the end of her
voice, — if it is the end."

44 It 's the end of having an extraordinarily pretty
girl in the house. I don't at all like it, you know,
i — having her whisked away in this manner."

Mrs. Erwin refused to let her mind wander fiom
the main point. " He '11 be round as soon as he can,
after he arrives. I shall expect him by four, at the
latest."

" I fancy he '11 stop for his dinner before he comes,*'
•aid Mr. Erwin.

44 Not at all," retorted his wife, haughtily. And
with his going out of the room, she set her face in
» resolute cheerfulness, for the task of heartening
Lydia when she should appear ; but it only expressed
aisgiving when the girl came in with her yachting-
Ireas on. 4' Why, Lydia, shall you wear that ? "

Lydia swept her dress with a downward glanoa

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 296

* 1 thought I would wear it. I thought he — I
•hould seem — more natural in it. I wore it all the
time on the ship, except Sundays. He said — ht>
liked it the best."

Mrs. Erwin shook her head. " It would n't do.
Everything must be on a new basis now. He might
like it ; but it would be too romantic, would n't it,
don't you think ? " She shook her head still, but
less decisively. " Better wear your silk. Don't
you think you 'd better wear your silk ? This
is very pretty, and the dark blue does become
you, awfully. Still, I don't know — /don't know,
either ! A great many English wear those careless
things in the house. Well, wear it, Lydia ! You
do look perfectly killing in it. I '11 tell you : your
uncle was going to ask you to go out in his boat ;
he 's got one he rows himself, and this is a boating
costume ; and you know you could time yourselves
BO as to get back just right, and you could come in
with this on" —

Lydia turned pale. " Ought n't I — ought n't I
— to be here ? " she faltered.

Her aunt laughed gayly. " Why, he '11 ask foi
We, Lydia."

" For you ? " asked Lydia, doubtfully.

" Yes. And I can easily keep him till you gel
back. If you 're here by four " —

"The train," said Lydia, " arrives at tljee."

" How did you kno-^r ? " asked her aunt, keenly

Lydia's eyelids fell even lower than their won*

296 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

* I looked it out in that railroad guide in the par*
ior."

Her aunt kissed her. " And you Ve thought the
whole thing out, dear, have n't you ? I 'm glad to
•ee you so happy about it."

" Yes," said the girl, with a fluttering breath, "I
have thought it out, and 1 believe him. I " — She
tried to say something more, but could not.

Mrs. Erwin rang the bell, and sent for her hus-
band. " He knows about it, Lydia," she said.
" He 's just as much interested as we are, dear, but
you need n't be worried. He 's a perfect post for
not showing a thing if you don't want him to.
He 's really quite superhuman, in that, — equal to
a woman. You can talk Americanisms with him.
If we sat here staring at each other till four o'clock,
— he must go to his hotel before he comes here ;
and I say four at the earliest ; and it 's much more
likely to be five or six, or perhaps evening, — I
should die ! "

Mr. Erwin's rowing was the wonder of all Ven-
ice. There was every reason why he should fall
overboard at each stroke, as he stood to propel the
ooat in the gondolier fashion, except that he never
/et had done so. It was sometimes his fortune to
be caught on the shallows by the falling tide ; but
an that day he safely explored the lagoons, and re-
turned promptly at four o'clock to the palace.

His wife was standing on the balcony, looking
•at for them, and she smiled radiantly down into

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 29^

Lydia's anxiously lifted face. But when she met
the girl at the head of the staircase in the great
hall, she embraced her, and said, with the same gay
smile, " He has n't come yet, dear, and of course he
iron't come till after dinner. If I had n't been aa
silly as you are, Lydia, I never should have let you
expect him sooner. He '11 want to go to his hotel ;
Bnd no matter how impatient he is, he '11 want to
dress, and be a little ceremonious about his call.
You know we 're strangers to him, whatever you
are."

" Yes," said Lydia, mechanically. She was going
to sit down, as she was ; of her own motion she
would not have stirred from the place till he came,
or it was certain he would not come ; but her aunt
would not permit the despair into which she saw
her sinking.

She laughed resolutely, and said, " I think we
must give up the little sentimentality of meeting
him in that dress, now. Go and change it, Lydia.
Put on your silk, — or wait : let me go with you.
I want to try some little effects with your complex-
ion. We Ve experimented with the simple and fa-
miliar, and now we '11 see what can be done in the
way of the magnificent and unexpected. I 'm going
feo astonish the young man with a Venetian beauty ;
vou know you look Italian, Lydia."

" Yes, he said so," answered Lydia.

44 Did he ? That shows he has an eye, and he 'U
appreciate what we are going to do."

298 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

She took Lydia to her own room, for the greatei
convenience of her experiments, and from that mo
ment she did not allow her to be alone ; she scarcely
allowed her to be silent ; she made her talk, she
kept her in movement. At dinner she permitted no
lapse. " Henshaw," she said, " Lydia has been tell-
ing me about a storm they had just before they
reached Gibraltar. I wish you would tell her ol
the typhoon you were in when you first went out
to India." Her husband obeyed ; and then recur-
ring to the days of his civil employment in India,
he told stories of tiger-hunts, and of the Sepoy
mutiny. Mrs. Erwin would not let them sit very
long at table. After dinner she asked Lydia to
sing, and she suffered her to sing all the American
Bongs her uncle asked for. At eight o'clock she
said with a knowing little look at Lydia, which in-
cluded a sub-wink for her husband, " You may go
to your caf6 alone, this evening, Henshaw. Lydia
and I are going to stay at home and talk South
Bradfield gossip. I 've hardly had a moment with
her yet." But when he was gone, she took Lydia
to her own room again, and showed her all her jew-
elry, and passed the time in making changes in the
girl's toilette.

It was like the heroic endeavor of the arctic voy-
ager who feels the deadly chill in his own veins, and
keeps himself alive by rousing his comrade from the
torpor stealing over him. They saw in each other'f
eyes that if they yielded a moment to the doubt in
their hearts they were lost.

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 299

At ten o'clock Mrs. Erwin said abruptly, " Go to
bed, Lydia ! " Then the girl broke down, and aban-
doned herself in a storm of tears. " Don't cry, dear,
don't cry," pleaded her annfc. " He will be here in
the morning, I know he will. He has been de-
layed."

" No, he 'a not coming," said Lydia, through hot
Bobs.

" Something has happened," urged Mrs. Erwin.

" No," said Lydia, as before. Her tears ceased
as suddenly as they had come. She lifted her head,
and drying her eyes looked into her aunt's face.
" Are you ashamed of me ? ' ' she asked hoarsely.

" Ashamed of you ? Oh, poor child " —

" I can't pretend anything. If I had never told
you about it at all, I could have kept it back till I
died. But now — But you will never hear me
gpeak of it again. It 's over." She took up her
candle, and stiffly suffering the compassionate em-
brace with which her aunt clung to her, she walked
across the great hall in the vain splendor in which
the had been adorned^ and shut the door behind
h«r.

XXVI

DUNHAM lay in a stupor for twenty-four hours,
and after that he was delirious, with dim intervals
of reason in which they kept him from talking, tJl
one morning he woke and looked up at Stamford
with a perfectly clear eye, and said, as if resuming
the conservation, " I struck my head on a pile of
chains."

"• Yes," replied Staniford, with a wan smile,
" and you Ve been out of it pretty near ever since.
You must n't talk."

" Oh, I 'm all right," said Dunham. " I know
about my being hurt. I shall be cautious. Have
you written to Miss Hibbard ? I hope you have n't I "

" Yes, I have," replied Staniford. " But I
have n't sent the letter," he added, in answer to
Dunham's look of distress. " I thought you wera
going to pull through, in spite of the doctor, — he 'a
wanted to bleed you, and I could hardly keep his
lancet out of you, — and so I wrote, mentioning
the accident and announcing your complete restora
tfon. The letter merely needs dating and sealing
I '11 look it up and have it posted." He began a
learch in the pockets of his coat, and then went to
bis portfolio.

" What day is this ? " asked Dunham.

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 301

"Friday," said Stamford, rummaging his port-
folio.

" Have you been in Venice ? v*

"Look here, Dunham I If you begin in that
way, I can't talk to you. It shows that you 're still
out of your head. How could I have be*n in Ven-
ice?"

" But Miss Blood; the Aroostook " —

" Miss Blood went to Venice with her nncle last
Saturday. The Aroostook is here in Trieste. The
captain has just gone away. He 's stood watch and
watch with me, while you were off on business."

" But did n't you go to Venice on Monday? "

" Well, hardly," answered Staniford.

"No, you stayed with me, — I see," said Dun-
ham.

" Of course, I wrote to her at once," said Stani-
ford, huskily, " and explained the matter as well aa
I could without making an ado about it. But now
you stop, Dunham. If you excite yourself, there '11
be the deuce to pay again."

" I 'm not excited," said Dunham, " but I can't
help thinking how disappointed — But of course
you 've heard from her ? "

" Well, there 's hardly time, yet," said Staniford,
evasively.

" Why, yes, there is. Perhaps your letter mi*
carried."

" Don't I " cried Staniford, in a hollow under-
roice, which he broke through to add, •• Go to aleep,
now, Dunham, or keep quiet, somehow."

502 THE LADY CF THE AROOSTOOR.

Dunham was silent for a while, and Stamford
continued his search, which he ended by taking the
portfolio by one corner, and shaking its contents
out on the table. " I don't seem to find it ; but
I 've put it away somewhere. I '11 get it." He
went to another coat, that hung on the back of a
chair, and fumbled in its pockets. " Hollo ! Here
are those letters they brought me from the post-
office Saturday night, — Murray's, and Stanton's,
and that bore Farrington's. I forgot all about
them." He ran the unopened letters over in hia
hand. "Ah, here's my familiar scrawl" — He
stopped suddenly, and walked away to the window
where he stood with his back to Dunham.

44 Stamford I What is it ? "

" It 's — it 's my letter to her," said Stanif ord,
without looking round.

44 Your letter to Miss Blood — not gone ? " Staa-
iford, with his face still from him, silently nodded.
" Oh ! " moaned Dunham, in self-forgetful compas-
lion. " How could it have happened? "

" I see perfectly well," said the other, quietly,
but he looked round at Dunham with a face that
was haggard. " I sent it out to be posted by the
portier, and he got it mixed up with these letters
for me, and brought it back."

The young men were both silent, but the tears
itood in Dunham's eyes. " If it had n't been tot
Sie, it would n't have happened," he said.

44 No," gently retorted Staniford, 44 if it had n'

THE LADY OF THE ABOOSTOOK. 303

b««en for me, it would n't have happened. I made
you come from Messina with me, when you wanted
to go on to Naples with those people ; if I 'd had
any sense, I should have spoken fully to her before
we parted ; and it was I who sent you to see if she
were on the steamer, when you fell and hurt your
»lf I know who 's to blame, Dunham. What daj
did I tell you this was ? "

" Friday."

" A week I And I told her to expect me Mon-
day afternoon. A week without a word or a sign
ot any kind I Well, I might as well take passage
in the Aroostook, and go back to Boston again."

"Why, no!" cried Dunham, "you must take
the first train to Venice. Don't lose an instant.
You can explain everything as soon as you see
her."

Staniford shook his head. " If all her life had
been different, if she were a woman of the world, it
would be different ; she would know how to ac-
count for some little misgivings on my part ; but as
it is she would n't know how to account for even the
appearance of them. What she must have suffered
All this week — I can't think of it ! " He sat down
Mid turned his face away. Presently he sprang up
again. " But I 'm going, Dunham. I guess you
won't die now , but you may die if you like. I
would go over your dead body . "

44 Now you are talking sense," said Dunham.

SUtiiilord did not listen , he had got out his rail

304 THE LADY OF THE ARQGSTOOK.

road guide and was studying it. " No ; there ai«
only those two trains a day. The seven o'clock haa
gone ; and the next starts at ten to-night. Great
heavens ! I could walk it sooner I Dunham," ha
asked, " do you think I 'd better telegraph ? "

" What would you say ? "

" Say that there 's been a mistake ; that a lette*
miscarried ; that I '11 be there in the morning ,
fchat" —

" Would n't that be taking her anxiety a little
too much for granted ? "

" Yes, that 's true. Well, you Ve got your wits
about you now, Dunham," cried Stamford, with
illogical bitterness. "Very probably," he added,
gloomily, " she does n't care anything for me, after
all."

" That 's a good frame of mind to go in," said
Dunham.

" Why is it ? " demanded Staniford. " Did I evei
presume upon any supposed interest in her ? "

" You did at first," replied Dunham.

Staniford flushed angrily. But you cannot quar-
rel with a man lying helpless on his back ; besides,
what Dunham said was true.

The arrangements for Staniford's journey were
quickly made, — so quickly that when he had seen
the doctor, and had been down to the Aroostook
»nd engaged Captain Jenness to come and take hia
place with Dunham for the next two nights, he had
fcwelve hours on his hinds before the train fo*

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 805

Venice would leave, and he started at last with but
one clear perception, — that at the soonest it most
be twelve hours more before he could see her.

He had seemed intolerably slow in arriving on
the train, but once arrived in Venice he wished
that he had come by the steamboat, which would
not be in for three hours yet. In despair he went
to bed, considering that after he had tossed there
till he could endure it no longer, he would still
have the resource of getting up, which he would
not have unless he went to bed. When he lay
down, he found himself drowsy ; and while he won-
dered at this, he fell asleep, and dreamed a strange
dream, so terrible that he woke himself by groan-
ing in spirit, a thing which, as he reflected, he had
never done before. The sun was piercing the crev-
ice between his shutters, and a glance at his watch
Bhowed him that it was eleven o'clock.

The shadow of his dream projected itself into
his waking mood, and steeped it in a gloom which
he could not escape. He rose and dressed, and
meagrely breakfasted. Without knowing how he
came there, he stood announced in Mrs. Erwin'f
parlor, and waited for her to receive him.

His card was brought in to her where she lay
in bed. After supporting Lydia through the first
Bharp shock of disappointment, she had yielded to
the prolonged strain, and the girl was now tak-
ing care of her. She gave a hysterical laugh ai
•he read the name ou the card Veronica brought,
M

806 THE LADY OB THE ARC OSTOOK.

Mid crushing it in her hand, " He 's come I " sh*
cried.

** I will not see him I " said Lydia instantly.

" No," assented her aunt. " It would n't be at
all the thing Besides, he 's asked for me. Your
uncle might see him, but he 's out of the way ; of
course he would be out of the way. Now, let me
•ee ! " The excitement inspired her ; she rose in
bed, and called for the pretty sack in which she
ordinarily breakfasted, and took a look at herself in
A hand-glass that lay on the bed. Lydia did not
move ; she scarcely seemed to breathe ; but a swift
pulse in her neck beat visibly. "If it would be
decent to keep him waiting so long, I could dress,
and see him myself. I 'm well enough." Mrs,
Erwin again reflected. " Well," she said at last,
" you must see him, Lydia."

« I " — began the girl.

"Yes, you. Some one must. It will be all
right. On second thought, I believe I should send
you, even if I were quite ready to go myself. This
affair has been carried on so far on the American
plan, and I think I shall let you finish it without
toy interference. Yes, as your uncle said when I
told him, you 're all Americans together ; and you
are. Mr. Staniford has come to see you, though he
asks for me. That 's perfectly proper ; but I can't
«ee him, and I want you to excuse me to him."

"What would you — what must I" — Lydii
pegan again.

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 307

•'No, Lydia," interrupted her aunt. "I won't
tell you a thing. I might have advised you when
you first came ; but now, I — Well, I think I 've
lived loo long in Europe to be of use in such a case,
and I won't have anything to do with it. I won t
tell you how to meet him, or what to say ; but
oh, child," — here the woman's love of loving
triumphed in her breast, — "I wish I was in your
place ! Go ! "

Lydia slowly rose, breathless.

«k Lydia ! " cried her aunt. " Look at me I "
Lydia turned her head. " Are you going to be
hard with him?"

" I don't know what he 's coming for," said Lydia
dishonestly.

" But if he 's coming for what you hope ? "

" I don't hope for anything."

" But you did. Don't be severe. You 're terri-
ble when you 're severe."

" I will be just."

" Oh, no, you must n't, my dear. It won't do at
til to be just with men, poor fellows. Kiss me,
Lydia ! " She pulled her down, and kissed her.
When the girl had got as far as the door, " Lydia,
Lydia ! " she called after her. Lydia turned.
"Do you realize what dress you've got on?"
Lydia look down at her robe ; it was the blue
flannel yachting-suit of the Aroostook, which she
had put on for convenience in taking care of hei
aunt " IB n't it too ridiculous ? " Mrs Erwin

308 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

meant to praise the coincidence, not to blame th«
dress. Lydia smiled faintly for answer, and th«
next moment she stood at the parlor door.

Staniford, at her entrance, turned from looking
out of the window and saw her as in his dream, with
her hand behind her, pushing the door to ; but tha
face with which she looked at him was not like the
dead, sad face of his dream. It was thrillingly
alive, and all passions were blent in it, — love,
doubt, reproach, indignation ; the tears stood in
her eyes, but a fire burnt through the tears. With
his first headlong impulse to console, explain, de-
plore, came a thought that struck him silent at
eight of her. He remembered, as he had not till
then remembered, in all his wild longing and fear-
ing, that there had not yet been anything explicit
between them ; that there was no engagement ; and
that he had upon the face of things, at least, no
right to offer her more than some formal expres-
sion of regret for not having been able to keep his
promise to come sooner. While this stupefying
thought gradually filled his whole sense to the ex-
clusion of all else, he stood looking at her with
ft dumb and helpless appeal, utterly stunned and
wretched. He felt the life die out of his face and
leave it blank, and when at last she spoke, he knenf
that it was in pity of him, or contempt of him,
•* Mrs. Erwin is not well," she said, "and sh«
Wished me " —

But he broke in upon her . " Oh, don't talk to

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 309

me of Mrs. Erwin ! It was you I wanted to see.
Are you well ? Are you alive ? Do you " — He
•topped as precipitately as he began ; and after an-
other hopeless pause, he went on piteously : " I
don't know where to begin. I ought to have been
here five days ago. I doii't know what you think
of me, or whether you have thought of me at all ;
and before I can ask I must tell you why I wanted
to come then, and why I come now, and why I
think I must have come back from the dead to see
you. You are all the world to me, and have been
ever since I saw you. It seems a ridiculously un-
necessary thing to say, I have been looking and
acting and living it so long ; but I say it, because I
choose to have you know it, whether you ever
cared for me or not. I thought I was coming here
to explain why I had not come sooner, but I need
n't do that unless — unless " — He looked at her
where she still stood aloof, and he added : " Oh,
answer me something, for pity's sake I Don't send
me away without a word. There have been times
when you would n't have done that ! "

" Oh, I did care for you ! " she broke out. " You
know I did " —

He was instantly across the room, beside her.
*' Yes, yes, I know it ! " But she shrank away.

" You tried to make me believe you cared fot
me, by everything you could do. And I did be-
ieve you then , and yes, I believed you afterwards,
when I did n't know what to believe. Yon wert

BIO THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

the one true thing in the world to me. Bat it
leems that you did n't believe it yourself."

" That I did n't believe it myself ? That I — 1
d(,n't know what you mean."

" You took a week to think it over 1 I have
had a week, too, and I have thought it over, too.
You have come too late."

" Too late ? You don't, you can't, mean —
Listen to me, Lydia ; I want to tell you " —

" No, there is nothing you can tell me that would
change me. I know it, I understand it all."

" But you don't understand what kept me."

" I don't wish to know what made you break
your word. I don't care to know. I could n't go
back and feel as I did to you. Oh, that 's gone I
It is n't that you did not come — that you made
me wait and suffer ; but you knew how it would
be with me after I got here, and all the things I
should find out, and how I should feel! And you
stayed away ! I don't know whether I can forgive
you, even ; oh, I 'm afraid I don't ; but I can never
care for you again. Nothing but a case of life and
death " —

"It was a case of life and death I "

Lydia stopped in her reproaches, and looked at
him with wistful doubt, changing to a tender fear.

" Oh, have you been hurt ? Have you been
tick ? " she pleaded, in a breaking voice, and mad«
tome unconscious movement toward him. He put
out his hand, and would have caught one of hers,
but she clasped them in each other.

THE LADY OF THE ABOOSTOOK. 811

" No, not I, — Dunham " —

" Oh I " said Lydia, as if this were not at all
•nough.

" He fell and struck his head, the night you left.
I thought he would die." Stamford reported his
own diagnosis, not the doctor's ; but he was per-
haps in the right to do this. " I had made him go
down to the wharf with me ; I wanted to see you
Again, before you started, and I thought we might
find you on the boat." He could see her face re
Renting ; her hands released each other. " He was
delirious till yesterday. I could n't leave him."

"Oh, why didn't you write to me?" She ig-
nored Dunham as completely as if he had never
lived. " You knew that I " — Her voice died
away, and her breast rose.

" I did write " —

" But how, — I never got it."

" No, — it was not posted, through a cruel blun-
der. And then I thought — I got to thinking that
you did n't care " —

" Oh," said the girl. ** Could you doubt me?"

"You doubted me," said Staniford, seizing hia
advantage. " I brought the letter with me to
prove my truth." She did not look at him, but nhe
fc>ok the letter, and ran it greedily into her pocket.
* it 's well I did so, since you don't believe my
t »rcL"

14 Oh, yes, — yes, I know it," she said • " I neref

obted it I * Staniford stood be mazed, though h«

31* THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

knew enough to take the hands she yielded him ,
but she suddenly caught them away again, and set
them against his breast. " I was very wrong to
•uspect you ever ; I 'm sorry I did ; but there 'a
•omething else. I don't know how to say what I
want to say. But it must be said."

" Is it something disagreeable ? " asked Stamford,
lightly.

"It 's right," answered Lydia, unsmilingly.

" Oh, well, don't say it I " he pleaded ; " or don't
Bay it now, — not till you 've forgiven me for the
anxiety I 've caused you ; not till you 've praised
me for trying to do what I thought the right thing.
You can't imagine how hard it was for one who
has n't the habit ! "

" I do praise you for it. There 's nothing to for-
give you ; but I can't let you care for me unless I
know — unless" — She stopped, and then, "Mr.
Staniford," she began firmly, "since I came here,
I 've been learning things that I did n't know be-
fore. They have changed the whole world to me,
and it can never be the same again."

" I 'm sorry for that ; but if they have n't
changed you, the world may go."

"No, not if we're to live in it," answered the
girl, with the soberer wisdom women keep at such
times. "It will have to be known how we met.
What will people say ? They will laugh."

" I don't think they will in my presence," said
Btaniford, with swelling nostrils. " They may net
their pleasure elsewhere."

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 811

44 And I should n't care for their laughing, either,"
Mid Lydia. " But oh, why did you come ? "

"Why did I come?"

44 Was it because you felt bound by anything
fchat 's happened, and you would n't let me bear th*
laugh alone ? I 'm not afraid for myself. I ehait
r«»ver blame you. You can go perfectly free."

"But I don't want to go free ! "

Lydia looked at him with piercing earnestness,
44 Do you think I 'm proud ? " she asked.

" Yes, I think you are," said Staniford, vaguely.

44 It is n't for myself that I should be proud with
other people. But I would rather die than bring
ridicule upon one I — upon you."

44 1 can believe that," said Staniford, devoutly,
and patiently reverencing the delay of her scru-
ples.

44 And if — and " — Her lips trembled, but she
steadied her trembling voice. " If they laughed at
you, and thought of me in a slighting way because "
— Staniford gave a sort of roar of grief and pain
to know how her heart must have been wrung be-
fore she could come to this. i4 You were all so good
that you did n't let me think there was anything
strange about it " —

44 Oh, good heavens ! We only did what it was
our precious and sacred privilege to do I We were
fell of one mind about it from the first. But don't
torture yourself about it, my darling. It's ovel
•ow -, it 's past — no, it 's present, and it will air

314 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

ways be, forever, the dearest and best thing in ilf«
Lydia, do you believe that I love you ? "

" Oh, I must ! "

" And don't you believe that I 'm telling you th«
truth when I say that I would n't, for all the world
can give or take, change anything that 's been ? "

" Yes, I do believe you. Oh, I have n't said at
all what I wanted to say ! There was a great deal
that I ought to say. I can't seem to recollect it."

He smiled to see her grieving at this recreance of
her memory to her conscience. " Well, you shall
have a whole lifetime to recall it in."

" No, I must try to speak now. And you must
ell me the truth now, — no matter what it costa
iither of us." She laid her hands upon his ex-
tended arms, and grasped them intensely. " There 's
something else. I want to ask you what you
tnought when you found me alone on that ship with
all of you." If she had stopped at this point, Stan-
iford's cause might have been lost, but she went on :
" I want to know whether you were ever ashamed
of me, or despised me for it ; whether you ever felt
that because I was helpless and friendless there,
you had the right to think less of me than if yon
had first met me here in this house."

It was still a terrible question, but it offered ft
loop-hole of escape, which Staniford was swift to
leize. Let those who will justify the answer with
which he smiled into her solemn eyes : " I will leave
yoa to say." A generous uncandor like this goes M

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 815

far with a magnanimous and serious-hearted woma«
M perhaps anything else.

" Oh, I knew it, I knew it I " cried Lydia. And
then, as he caught her to him at last, " Oh — oh —
are you sure it 's right ? "

" I have no doubt of it," answered Staniford
Nor had he any question of the strategy through
which he had triumphed in this crucial test. He
may have thought that there were always explana-
tions that had to be made afterwards, or he may
have believed that he had expiated in what he had
done and suffered for her any slight which he had
felt ; possibly, he considered that she had asked
more than she had a right to do. It is certain that
he said with every appearance of sincerity, " It be-
gan the moment I saw you on the wharf, there, and
when I came to know my mind I kept it from you
only till I could tell you here. But now I wish I
had n't I Life is too short for such a week as this,"

" No," said Lydia, " you acted for the best, and
you are — good."

«« I '11 keep that praise till I 'ye earned it," aa<
nrered Stamford.

XXVII

IK the Campo Santi Apostoli at Venice ther?

ft*nda, a little apart from the church of that name,

ft chapel which has been for many years the place

of worship for the Lutheran congregation. It was

- in this church that Staniford and Lydia were mar-

T tied six weeks later, before the altar under Titian's

beautiful picture of Christ breaking bread.

The wedding was private, but it was not quite a
family affair. Miss Hibbard had come down with
her mother from Dresden, to complete Dunham's
cure, and she was there with him perfectly reo^v,
ered ; he was not quite content, of course, that tho
marriage should not take place in the English chap
el, but he was largely consoled by the candles burn-
ing on the altar. The Aroostook had been delayed
by repairs which were found necessary at Trieste,
and Captain Jenness was able to come over and rep-
resent the ship at the wedding ceremony, and at
the lunch which followed. He reserved till the mo-
ment of parting a supreme expression of good-will
When he had got a hand of Lydia's and one of
Stamford's in each of his, with his wrists crossed,
he said, " Now, I ain't one to tack round, and stand
off and on a great deal, but what I want to say is
tuat thia : the A; x>stook sails next week, and if you

THE >LAI>Y ! OF THEl .AROOSTOOH. 31.7

hub [are n mi ad to go back in her* the ship 'a yours,
»a I «;r.d to Mias Blood, here, -r- 1 meani Mia' Stun-
iford ; well, I hain't had much time to get .uaedlfca
it ! •— w heu sbjei i irst come i aboard there at Boston.
I don't mnan any pay ;;fl .waafeiybU to^go back as
my guests.. You can use the cabin for your parlor ,
afid I prkittiseYyou I wbn'fc, takes jasy--othe(r c
ge»s t ithis i itimej i I • detelatV'' 'said: ^Cfaptei
Iftweringi his! voioei,, and i iriow refecriAgi • toi<Hidk8 ,foi/
the first time sihce; the day of his escapade, ^' I did
hat fellow- 1" i»i l.ni/l .« -ni-.f
^'! replied- Staniford. ' A4.Ii.iil,
hadn't been for Hicks perihapsi:! imightln't »hairft
been here.'* He! exchanged, glanaea \^ith-ihii ^itfe,
diat showed! they :hadtalkeid all that mattdrMoyeari *,>

.^/TbeJcaptain grew confidJeatiaL, i " Mr.-jMason tolft
me he saw you lending that chap monely* .1! hope;
hedid n't giVfeyou tbei >slip ?r" ); •.fuiin •ncflH uniT

I. " No ; it came to me here at Bkmenthals' the
other -day/'y.J, li-icd-i^-ri-'t!-^. inoil.ti*« vi.;ii n<>*ri'Kj li-.j^

. ** Well, that 'a right Ii ; It all worked together %H\
good, as, you Bay. iNow; you come ! "

r" What do you say, my dear ?" asked Staniford,
on; whom the poatic fitness .of the captain'6 proposal)
had wrought. lin«j'H !.u*

Womennare never blinded by romance, however
much .they like it tin the abstract. " It Y coining;
iriAter^ ;. Do you think you would n't be seasick? "
ceturoed the bride of an hour, with the practice'
a matron. ^ . > j-iufir; »di

81 & THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

Stamford laughed. " She 's right, captain. 1 'm
IL3 sailor. I '11 get home by the all-rail route as fai
as I can."

Captain Jenness threw back his head, and laughed
too. " Good ! That 's about it." And he released
their hands, so as to place one hairy paw on a shoul-
der of each. " You '11 get along together, I guess."

" But we 're just as much obliged to you as if w«t
went, Captain Jenness. And tell all the crew that
I 'm homesick for the Aroostook, and thank all for
being so kind to me ; and I thank you, Captain
Jenness ! " Lydia looked at her husband, and then
startled the captain with a kiss.

He blushed all over, but carried it off as boldly
as he could. " Well, well," he said, " that 's right I
If you change your minds before the Aroostook sails,
you let me know."

This affair made a great deal of talk in Venice,
where the common stock of leisure is so great that
each person may without self-reproach devote a muoh
larger share of attention to the interests of the oth-
ers than could be given elsewhere. The decorous
fictions in which Mrs. Erwin draped the singular
facts of the acquaintance and courtship of Lydia
and Staniford were what unfailingly astonished and
amused him, and he abetted them without scruple.
He found her world liness as innocent as the un-
worldliness of Lydia, and he gave Mrs. Erwin his
hearty sympathy when she ingenuously owned that
the effort to throw dust in the eyes of her European

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 819

Acquaintance was simply killing her. He found
endless refreshment in the contemplation of her atti
tude towards her burdensome little world, and in
her reasons for enslaving herself to it. He was very
good friends with both of the Erwins. When he
could spare the time from Lydia, he went about with
her uncle in his boat, and respected his skill in row-
ing it without falling overboard. He could not see
why any one should be so much interested in the
American character and dialect as Mr. Erwin was ,
but he did not object, and he reflected that after all
they were not what their admirer supposed them.

The Erwins came with the Stamfords as far aa
Paris on their way home, and afterwards joined them
in California, where Staniford bought a ranch, and
found occupation if not profit in its management.
Once cut loose from her European ties, Mrs. Erwin
experienced an incomparable repose and comfort in
the life of San Francisco ; it was, she declared, the
life for which she had really been adapted, after all ;
and in the climate of Santa Barbara she found all
that she had left in Italy. In that land of strange
and surprising forms of every sort, her husband haa
been very happy in the realization of an America
surpassing even his wildest dreams, and he has richly
stored his note-book with philological curiosities.
He hears around him the vigorous and imaginative
locutions of the Pike language, in which, like the
Ate Canon Kingsley, he finds a Scandinavian huge-
*eaa ; and pending the publication of his Hand-Book

£20 THE i &ADE OF THE ARQ0STOQK.

af i Amet-ioanusms, he i i is in confident search ol the
miner who .uses hia pronouns cockney-wise. Li ke
»the* English observers, friendly and uinfriendly>,jhjb
does not pjstmit the facts to interfere with, -hia pr»-
conceptions. !;//K! .,;j; •.., ,; ,(ii,, .; ,,n] \ ,(-,,. *
:\ Stanif ordVchoicei longi remained a mystery to Uii
aoquaintanc(\s, \ and was but partially explai ned ; I>T
Mrs. Dunham,! !wh$n , she .came home, ,.,;*'; Wh j, I ;l
,»uppos0 he. .fell,, ini.Io^e with hec,'' she,sai4t, /'Qf
.oQurse^i thro wo/ together that way* as they were,; f^r
»J3t! weeks, it toighttha^ei happened: to lanyjbody ; )#$
Jaroesi 'Sitanifpr^i was always the most, .qonsummaibe
.flirt .that bteathedij and- he ;neveri icould see a wqupian,
iwithout :eofniing up, in that metaphysical way of |aif»
"and trying «to interest her in -him. He was : always
laughing, at women, but there never was a man who
,earedi more for them. From all, that I could learn
Irani Charles, he began by making fun of her, and
all at once jhe .became perfectly infatuated with her.
:I don't sefc why. I never could get Charles to tell
toe anything remarkable that she said or did* She
was simply; a country girl, with country ideas, ;ftttjl
•.«O sort of tcultivation. Why, there; was nothing-. :*P
;h&r«;:- He 's done the wisest thing he could, by /taking
Jhier ,out to, California. She ne/ver would .have gp.ne
down, here. I suppose James) Staniford knew that
as well as any ot us ; and if he finds it worth, white
to bury himself with her there^ we 've no reason. tp
jomplain. She did sing-, wonderfully '.\ that is, ht>r
roioe was perfectly : divine. But of course that 'a

THE LADY Off THE. ABQO&TOOK. 321

^ over; now^H,Sba didn't seen} to care much Isji

.•hfandBhe-reill^kne^ ao little ;of life that I doji't

believe she. could .fojrm the idea of an artistic carefEy,

"OP feel! that it wasawy sacrifice to give it up. James

'Stamford was not worth any sucfy sacrifice ; but ehie

' oould n't know, tbat; eijther, She was, good, I sup-

pose. -She was very stiftva-nd she hadn't a w.ord

to^say for hecseM.i, I^Jjipik.jShQ ^as cold. Tp .^e

»ure, she ,was a beauty; I really never saw auy-

fching likeity-Hthat ,palfi;cqmplexion .souie brunettes

have^ with , her baiF grawjpg low, and such eyes and

lashea!?' in.,.,-,i)

! I ^Perhaps the .beauty l^d, something to do with
his falling^ in love with, Jher," suggested a listener.
i Tb« ladies present tried to look as if this ought not
to ;be sufficiettt. ; ^ >^nt-tnt\ ./<

" Oh, very likely," said Mrs. Dunham. She
added,rwitli:aty ai£o,f b^pg the wreck of her former
jielf, ,,", But we all know what becomes of beauty
; after marriage."

• . ? . (The mind of LycUa's, friends had been expressed in

regard to her zp,aiiriage,,wben the Stamfords, upon
their. arrilvaJi home, .from Europe, paid a visit to
South Biradfield. It, was, in the depths of the winter

- following, their union, and the hill country, stern and
wild even in midsummer, wore an aspect of savage

.desolation. It was sheeted in heavy snow, through
which here and there in, the pastures, a craggy
bowlder lifted i.ts face and fr.owned, and along tjw
iroods the stunted piues and hemlocks ^lacj

322 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

against a background of leafless oaks and birehea,
A northwest wind cut shrill across the white wastes,
and from the crests of the billowed drifts drove a
scud of stinging particles in their faces, while the
Bun, as high as that of Italy, coldly blazed from a
cloudless blue sky. Ezra Perkins, perched on the
Beat before them, stiff and silent as if he were frozen
there, drove them from Bradfield Junction to South
Bradfield in the long wagon-body set on bob-sleda,
with which he replaced his Concord coach in win-
ter. At the station he had sparingly greeted Lydia,
as if she were just back from Greenfield, and in the
interest of personal independence had ignored a
faint motion of hers to shake hands ; at her grand-
father's gate, he set his passengers down without a
word, and drove away, leaving Staniford to get in
his trunk as he might.

" Well, I declare," said Miss Maria, who had
taken one end of the trunk in spite of him, and was
leading the way up through the path cleanly blocked
out of the snow, "that Ezra Perkins is enough to
make you wish he 'd stayed in Dakoty I "

Staniford laughed, as he had laughed at every
thing on the way from the station, and had proba
oly thus wounded Ezra Perkins's susceptibilities.
The village houses, separated so widely by the one
long street, each with its path neatly tunneled from
the roadway to the gate ; the meeting-house, BO
much vaster than the present needs of worship, and
looking blue-cold with its never-renewed single ooat

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 323

of white paint ; the graveyard set in the midst oi
the village, and showing, after Ezra Perkins's dis-
appearance, as many signs of life as any other lo-
cality, realized in the most satisfactory degree hia
theories of what winter must be in such a place aa
South Bradfield. The burning smell of the sheet-
iron stove in the parlor, with its battlemented top
of filigree iron work ; the grimness of the horse-
hair-covered best furniture ; the care with which
the old-fashioned fire-places had been walled up,
and all accessible character of the period to which
the house belonged had been effaced, gave him an
equal pleasure. He went about with his arm round
Lydia's waist, examining these things, and yielding
to the joy they caused him, when they were alone
" Oh, my darling," he said, in one of these accesses
of delight, " when I think that it 's my privilege
to take you away from all this, I begin to feel not
BO very unworthy, after all."

But he was very polite, as Miss Maria owned,
when Mr. and Mrs. Goodlow came in during the
evening, with two or three unmarried ladies of the
village, and he kept them from falling into the
frozen silence which habitually expresses social en-
'oyment in South Bradfield when strangers are
present. He talked about the prospects of Italian
advancement to an equal state of intellectual and
moral perfection with rural New England, while
Mr. Goodlow listened, rocking himself back and
forth in the hair-cloth arm-chair. Deacon Latham,

-•124 >THE'LADY OF THE AROQSTiOOiK.

passing -his hand continually along -fctie^
tlementfr, now<and then let his fingers rest on the
sheet-iron till be burnt them, and then jerked jtheni
»iuddenly away y to put them back the .next moment,
t$n >hiS' absorbing interest. Miss Maria, amidst a
murmur of admiration from the ladies, ipasaad
;8pongeK$ake and coffee: she confessed after wardf
that the evening i had beea so ibrUlian^ to, heri as ( to
•seem almost ; wicked ; and, the other, , ladies, , who
owned t<y having ilaiiu awake all night on her qoffee,
' Wd" that :< ifi they < A«^ en joy ed, themselves th#y ^ere
properly ipnnis-hed for it. ,,.;,j .„-,„,,{ .,;jj

!i ;i When they were gone, ;and Iiydiavand,,Sta;nifprd
' ;had said good-night, [.andrMis^ MarMvQomjng jnfropQ
fche- 1 kitchen/ with: ai /hand-Jangip |or fyer fa|;h^r, ap-
^proaohed-tlie tnacbleritopped centre-table to bloiw -out
'the 'large lamp of pea-gireen glass with red ^oplleu
f wiokviwhichj had .shed i the ; full radiance, oj;.,; a, sup-
burner upon the festival, sh,Q- faltered, a^;, a manifest
» 'anreadines^ in-thfe' old mau:,to go to bed, tliough the
M fire • wasi 'low,: a«d they, had ;both, resumed ,1}he jdrpqp-
' i^g i carriage iof ipeople in :going .abput ,cold houses.
f.' He "looked excited^ sandy so far, as ,hia unpracticed
could^ iiitjijaaate! the eniotipn,, jpyqus.

there, Maria I " he said. " You can't
-lay. but what. :he'» a i master-hand to cpnverse, any
• wayLf : i I d? iknow as I, ever see Mr. Goodlow more
1 itruck up with any /one. He Jopked as, if every word
i ione him good ; I presume it put him in mindi/oJ

THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK. 82t

e. misses it/lsome;, here. Youi can'fc say but
what he 's a fine iappearin' young man. > I d know
to li see anything wrong in his kind of dressin' up
to : the. nines,! iasJyou imay: say. <A»< long 's hei'i
got the money, I don't see what harm it is. It '•
all worked for good, Lyddy's going out' that way ,
though it did seem a mysterious providence at the
time."

" Well ! " began Miss Maria. She paused, as if
she had been hurried too far by her feelings, and
ought to give them a check before proceeding.
" Well, I don't presume you 'd notice it, but she 'a
got a spot on her silk, so 't a whole breadth 's got
to come out, and be let in again bottom side up. I
guess there 's a pair of 'em, for carelessness." She
waited a moment before continuing: "I d' know
as I like to see a husband puttin' his arm round his
wife, even when he don't suppose any one 's lookin' ;
but I d' know but what it 's natural, too. But it 's
one comfort to see 't she ain't the least mite silly
about him. He 's dreadful freckled." Miss Maria
again paused thoughtfully, while her father burnt
his fingers on the stove for the last time, and took
them definitively away. " I don't say but what he
talked well enough, as far forth as talkin' goes; Mr.
Goodlow said at the door 't he did n't know 's he
ever pas«ed many such evenin's since he 'd been in
South Bradfield, and I d' know as 7 have. I pre-
sume he has his faults ; we ain't any of us perfect ;
tat he doos seam terribly wrapped up in Lyddj

326 THE LADY OF THE AROOSTOOK.

I don't say but what he '11 make her a good hwK
band, if she must have one. I don't suppose but
what people might think, as you may say, 't she 'd
made out pretty well ; and if Lyddy 's suited, I
d' know as anybody else has got any call to be
particular,"