Pembroke

painted, it was shedding its flapping gray shingles like gray scales, the roof sagged in a mossy hollow before the chimney, the windows and doors were awry, and the whol

nding it to roll away a shadow. On the flat doorstep lay a large round stone, pushed close against the door. There were no locks and keys in the old Crane place; only bolts. Sylvia could not fasten the doors on the inside

d laboriously rolled this same round stone before it. Sylvia reasoned as her mother and grandmother before her, with the same simplicit

way the stone and enter at will, Sylvia had replied, with the innocen

regret that she had defended the door with it. "I wish I hadn't put the stone up," she thought. "If I hadn't, mebbe he'd gone in an' waited." She opened the doo

a flicker of fire within. Then Sylvia held the flaring ca

mly festive air in the room. The flag-bottomed chairs stood by twos, finely canted towards each other, against the wall; the one great hair-cloth rocker stood ostentatiously in advance of them, facing the hearth fire; the long level of the hair-cloth sofa gleamed out under stiff sweeps o

lf. It seemed to her that all the light in the room cen

, Richard must have come while you

t she did not look so much older than her niece. Her figure had the slim angularity and primness which are sometimes seen in elderly women who are not matron

d, and the more so that she grudged her years painfully. She stirred up the fire a little, holding back her s

I was you, Charlotte," S

bed pretty soon," returned

th me, Charlotte, or sle

go in the sp

get you a

Charlotte, after she had said her dutiful and unquestioning prayer, and lay folded in Sylvia's ruffled nigh

ken. But she was not, for Sylvia Crane was lamenting as sorely as the younger maiden up-stairs. "Poor Rich

, Richard Alger and Barnabas Thayer were distantly related on the mother's side, and people said they looked enough alike to b

I didn't hear him knock, an' he'd come in an' waited. Poor Richard, I dun

ears, forgot the father, mother, and sister who had died in that time; their funeral trains passed before her eyes like so many shadows. She forgot all their cares and her own; she forgot how she had nursed her bedridden mother for ten years; she forgot everything but those blessed Sunday nights on which Richard Alger had come. She called to mind every little circum

hfully as any worshipper of the Greek deity she laid her offerings, her hair-cloth

hand in hand, as confessed lovers, on that sofa. Richard Alger, during all those eighteen years, had never made love to Sylvia, unless his constant att

d to sit by her side upon that hair-cloth sofa and hold her hand, she would have arisen as if propelled by stiff springs of modest virtue. She did not fairly know that she was not made love to after the most honorable and orthodox fashion without a word of endearment or a caress; for she had been traine

do think it would be a good deal better for him if we was se

enough," retur

't buy ev

y him; I pity you,

as that goes," Sylvia had replied to her sister,

ounts," returned Mrs. Barnard, with more contempt for her sister t

eplied, with a quick shri

n have held time back with her thin hands, how futilely and pitifully she set her loving heart against it, and not for herself and her own vanity, but for the sake of her lover. She had come, in the single

rls coming in, as radiant and flawless as new flowers, in their Sunday bests, with

of the young girls. "He'd ought to marry one of them," she thought; "he'd ought to, by good rights." It never occurred to Sylvia that Richard also was growing

s last Sunday night, it wore the beauty and innocent freshness of a child. If Richard Alger could hav

d because he had not the little womanly care which men need; she had worried lest his stockings were not darned, and his food not properly

wishes. Richard had come, departing from his usual custom-he had never called except on Sunday before-and remained later. It was ten o'clock before he went home. He had been very silent all the evening, and had sat soberly i

ng. Richard had checked her when she attempted to light a candle. That had somehow made the evening seem strange, and freighted with consequences; and besides the white light of the m

curiously, rather as if he was drawn than walked of his own volition, over to the sofa. He sank down upon

rying to make his voice careless, but it

I guess," Sylvia had

to be goi

timidly and adoringly, at Richard's smoothly shaven face, pal

years," Richard observed finally, a

almost inarti

ld hear the great clock out in the kitchen tick. Sylvia waited, her

again, "that-maybe-it would be wise for-us

the kitchen struck the first stroke of ten. Richard caught his breath and arose quickly. Never in his long courtship had he rema

bell notes. Sylvia arose without a word of diss

t Sunday night," sai

ting kiss, as they had done for years. Richard went out of sight down the white gleaming road

ut her thoughts seemed shivering with rainbows that constantly dazzled her with sweet shocks when her eyes met them. Her feet seemed constantly flying

ide silk skirt was shot with green and blue, and rustled as she walked up the aisle to her pew. People stared after her without knowing why. There was no tangible change in her appearance. She had worn that same green shot silk many Sabbaths; her bonnet was three summers old; the cur

smiling fondly at herself. All the way to meeting that Sunday morning she saw her face as

in her place, which was in full range of his eyes, he glanced at her without turning his head; he meant to look away again directly, so as not to be observed, but her face held him. A color s

he wondered what he thought of them; if he considered them too young for her, and silly; but he did not see them at all. He had no eye for details. And neither d

looked well. Richard was far behind her, but she did not look around. They very seldom accosted each other, unless it was unavoidable, in any public place

to sit down and read the Bible quietly and with understanding, but she could not. She turned to Canticles, and read a page or two. She had always believed loyally and devoutly in the application to Christ and the Church; but suddenly now, as

in the copper-gilt pitcher on the best-room table. She even dusted off the hair-cloth sofa and rocker, with many compunctions, because it was Sunday. "I know I hadn't ough

as dark earlier. There was a certain half-shamefaced reserve about his visits. He knew well enough that people looked from their windows as he passed, and said, facetiously, "There g

abas, had arisen many a time to take leave, all palpitating with impati

aloud, and quite harshly. "I guess your own sister has just as much claim on you as he has. I dunn

to bark the loudest, and the precious moments had gone by until she knew that Richard had come, found the s

she had come insensibly to know Richard so well that certain results from certain combinations of circumstances in his life were as plain and inevitable to her as the outcome of a simple sum in

art in greater agony because its string of joy had been strained so high and sweetly before it snapped, did not lament over herself at all; neither di

y, standing in the kitchen doorway in her pretty mottled purple delaine. The purple was the shade of columbine, and very becoming to Charlotte. In spite of her sleepless night, he

ce all wan and weary, glanced at her half resentfully. "I guess she 'ain't

't got anything to do but to stir up an Injun cake. You'

scornfully at her purple skirt. It had lost all its glor

ack, and looked out indifferently between the lilac-bushes. The bushes were full of pinkish-purple buds. Sylvia's front yard reached the road in a broad slope, and the ground was hard, and green with dampness u

orchard of old apple-trees which had blossomed out bravely that

ny frost last night, af

d, as if they were refractory children, and lashing out with spoons as if they were whips. The long, steady strain upon her patience had not affected her temper, but this last had seemed to bring out a certain vicious and waspish element which nobody had suspe

ou don't set right up an' eat it, it will be gettin

e table, which Sylvia always set punctiliously in

floor that way; it wears 'em a

and began to eat absently. Sylvia watched her angrily between he

kin' things if folks d

g," returne

t was sawdust! I don't call that eatin'. Yo

has got into you

hing gettin' into me, when you set there like a st

ght I had," s

guess you

ds called outside; but they heard neither. The shadows of the young elm leaves played over the

came, advancing ponderously, with soft thuds, across

ning both their faces with an

e door open?" inquired Sylvia. "I feel the wind on

, and shut the door qui

well this mornin'

ain't any matter how I feel, but it's

d sat there looking at them hesitatingly, as

arrying a plate of Indian cake to feed the hens. "I can't set he

d after her, Mrs. Barna

h her?" she asked, nod

n't k

o. Sylvy's generally just like a lamb. You don

n't k

he table, put up her two hands with a despairi

er eyes growing suddenly red. "Didn't he even t

ook her bowe

pose he'll ev

e shook

. I know he's

d Sylvia, coming in

thought Barney was kinder se

set than Cephas,

t set. It's

eated without ways, then," she retorted. "They'd better have been created slaves; they'd been enough sight happier an' better off, an' so would

of the Church at your time of life?" demanded a new voice

he faced her. "Yes, I be," said she; "I don't ap

in face and character. Now, as she stood before her, a curious

y?" asked Mrs. Berry, ignorin

on't think much of free-will, an' I

y, I should think you was crazy, Sylvy Crane, settin' up yourself agin

urned Sylvia, undauntedly, "an' I ain't g

mild mouth dropped sourly at the corners, and the lips were compressed. Her w

walked across the room to another rocking-chair, moving with unexpected heaviness. She was in reality

"I ain't come over here to argue about free-

was distinctly afraid of her imperious sister,

ut Barney Thayer,"

th a glance at Charlotte, who was sitting erect wi

really goin' to set down like an old hen an' give up, an' let this match between Charlotte an' a good,

o call for you to speak that way, Hannah

; it's jest to have their own way about it. I'd like to know what mortal difference it's goin' to make to Barney Thayer or Cephas Barnard which man is President? He won't never hear of them, an' they won't neither of them make him rule any different after he's chose. It's jest like two little boys-one wants to play marbles 'cause the other wants to play puss-in-the-corner, an' that's all the reason either one of 'em's got for standin' out. Men ain't got any too much sense anyhow, when you come right down to it. They don't ever get any too much grow

her apron and bega

an undertone. But her mother began t

rrible upset about it this mornin'; he 'ain't really said so in so many words, but I know by the way he acts. He said this mornin' that he didn't know but we were eatin' the wrong kind of food. Lately he's had an idea that mebbe we'd ought to eat more meat; he's thought it was more strength

s that Cephas Barnard has got in him full as much as bone

into things. I kind of wish he'd waited till the garden had got started, though, f

Berry; "What I want to know is if you're goin' to settle down an' say nothin', an' have

eyes gleamed with steely light. She he

re talk about it, Au

ey

t any more t

nd to it, for all you put on such airs with your own aunt, who left her washin' an' come over here to take your part. I guess when you stand

Mrs. Barnard, with a sc

ooked back at him. His eyes were stolidly defiant, but he stood well back, and almost shrank

ife. "When you com

. I-wanted to see-if-Sylvy had any emptins

think it's about time for yo

nd looked with piteou

who followed Cephas. They went in a procession of three, with Cephas marching ahead

nkful I 'ain't got a man like that, an' you ought to be mi