in the man had broken the girl's bonds for the moment. Her
vision was clearer, and, realizing the treasures of love and
fidelity that were being offered her, she accepted them, half
unconscious that she was not returning them in kind. How is the
belle of two villages to learn that she should "thank Heaven,
fasting, for a good man's love"? And Stephen? He went home in
the dusk, not knowing whether his feet were touching the solid
earth or whether he was treading upon rainbows.

Rose's pink calico seemed to brush him as he walked in the path
that was wide enough only for one. His solitude was peopled
again when he fed the cattle, for Rose's face smiled at him from
the haymow; and when he strained the milk, Rose held the pans.

His nightly tasks over, he went out and took his favorite seat
under the apple tree. All was still, save for the crickets'
ceaseless chirp, the soft thud of an August sweeting dropping in
the grass, and the swish-swash of the water against his boat,
tethered in the Willow Cove.

He remembered when he first saw Rose, for that must have been
when he began to love her, though he was only fourteen and quite
unconscious that the first seed had been dropped in the rich soil
of his boyish heart.

He was seated on the kerosene barrel in the Edgewood post-office,
which was also the general country store, where newspapers,
letters, molasses, nails, salt codfish, hairpins, sugar, liver
pills, canned goods, beans, and ginghams dwelt in genial
proximity. When she entered, just a little pink-and-white slip