CHAPTER XIII.


Reynolds Bartram and Eleanor Prency rapidly became so fond of each
other that the people of the village predicted an early engagement. The
young man had become quite a regular attendant at church,--not that he
had any religious feeling whatever, but that it enabled him to look at
his sweetheart for an hour and a half every Sunday morning and walk
home with her afterwards. Although he had considerable legal practice,
it was somehow always his fortune to be on the street when the young
lady chanced to be out shopping, and after he joined her there
generally ensued a walk which had nothing whatever to do with shopping
or anything else except an opportunity for two young people to talk to
each other for a long time on subjects which seemed extremely
interesting to both.

Nevertheless, there were occasional clouds upon their sky. The young
man who loves his sweetheart better than he loves himself occasionally
appears in novels, but in real life he seems to be an unknown quantity,
and young Bartram was no exception to the general rule. In like
manner, the young woman who loses sight of her own will, even when in
the society of the man whom she thinks the most adorable in the world,
is not easy to discover in any ordinary circle of acquaintances.

Bartram and Eleanor met one afternoon, in their customary manner, on
the principal street of the village, and walked along side by side for
quite a way, finally turning and sauntering through several residence
streets, talking with each other on a number of subjects, probably of
no great consequence, but apparently very interesting to both of them.