animating the younger men and women of the country; to the new
beginnings of art, literature, and scientific investigation. At scarcely
a hint from her he told briefly of his past life and his hopes, and
fondly mentioned his sister and her present absorption in some history
courses for women.

"And you?" he said. "You are a student, too. Mrs. Taylor has told me,
but I should have guessed it. Duties even more interesting claim you
now, but it is easy to perceive that you have known that other
happiness, 'To scorn delights and live laborious days.'"

His words sounded musical, though the quotation from Lycidas was
unfamiliar to her ears. Her brain was thrilling with the import of all
he had told her--with his allusions to the intellectual and ethical
movements of Boston and New York, in which she felt herself by right and
with his recognition a partner and peer.

"You were teaching school when you married, I believe?" he added.

"Yes."

"And before that, if I may ask?"

"I lived at Westfield with my father. It is a small country town, but we
tried to be in earnest."

"I understand--I understand. You grew up among the trees, and the
breezes and the brooks, those wonderful wordless teachers. I envy you,
for they give one time to think--to expand. I have known only city life
myself. It is stimulating, but one is so easily turned aside from one's