he took his boat and paddled down stream. If for the Finland
lover's reindeer there was but one path in all the world, and
that the one that led to Her, so it was for Stephen's canoe,
which, had it been set free on the river by day or by night,
might have floated straight to Rose.

He landed at the usual place, a bit of sandy shore near the Wiley
house, and walked drearily up the bank through the woods. Under
the shade of the pines the white stars of the hepatica glistened
and the pale anemones were coming into bloom. Partridge-berries
glowed red under their glossy leaves, and clumps of violets
sweetened the air. Squirrels chattered, woodpeckers tapped,
thrushes sang; but Stephen was blind and deaf to all the sweet
harbingers of spring.

Just then he heard voices, realizing with a throb of delight
that, at any rate, Rose had not left home to meet Claude, as he
had asked her to do. Looking through the branches, he saw the
two standing together, Mrs. Brooks's horse; with the offensive
trunk in the back of the wagon, being hitched to a tree near by.
There was nothing in the tableau to stir Stephen to fury, but he
read between the lines and suffered as he read--suffered and
determined to sacrifice himself if he must, so that Rose could
have what she wanted, this miserable apology for a man. He had
never been the husband for Rose; she must take her place in a
larger community, worthy of her beauty and charm.

Claude was talking and gesticulating ardently. Rose's head was
bent and the tears were rolling down her cheeks. Suddenly Claude
raised his hat, and with a passionate gesture of renunciation