the Three-Notched Road. He lived there with his ambitions, which were
many. That morning he had gone, without knowing why, down through the
tobacco-field to the stream which parted his patrimony from his
neighbour's grassy orchard. And there, beneath the apple tree, across
the clear, brown water stood Jacqueline. He forgot her no more.
"Fontenoy" was again the magic word, the "Open Sesame," but Jacqueline
was the wealth of all the world. He was young, and he was a man of
strong passions who had lived, perforce, a rigid, lonely, and ascetic
life. He had dreamed of most things, and he had dreamed of love. It was
the hectic vision of a hued pool. Love, entered, proved to be the sea,
boundless and strong, salt, clean, and the nurse of life. He loved
Jacqueline to the end of his life; he never swerved from allegiance to
the sea.

For a summer month he saw her almost every day,--twice or thrice beneath
the apple tree beside the stream, and at other times in Mrs. Jane
Selden's parlour, porch, or little friendly garden. He did not tell
Jacqueline that he loved her; he had not dared so much. The fact that he
was the son of Gideon Rand while she was a Churchill mattered little to
his common sense and his Republicanism. His blood was clean. He had
never heard of a Rand in prison or a beggar. Moreover, he meant to make
his name an honoured one. But he was a poor man, though he meant also to
become a rich man, and he was a Republican, with no thought of changing
his party. Politics might not matter, perhaps, to Miss Churchill, but
they mattered decidedly to her uncles and guardians, whom she loved and
obeyed. Wealth and birth mattered too, to them. Lewis Rand set no great
store upon obedience for obedience' sake, but he divined that Miss
Churchill rarely vexed those she loved. He had an iron will, and he set
his lips, and resolved that this was not the time to speak of that ocean
on whose shore he stood. He meant that the time should come. The