brilliant eyes were haggard and circled, as though by long illness. I
saw him drive by nearly every afternoon, accompanied by his nurse, a
good-humored young fellow, who helped him tenderly into the carriage,
and drove, while he lay back with the irritated expression that the
sense of enforced idleness and invalidism gives a man in the heyday of
youth. Mrs. Hopper, who was loquacious to a degree, told me long stories
of his parents' wealth, of the luxuries brought down with him, and of
the beautiful pieces of furniture he had had sent down for his room, for
his physician had recommended him to an absolutely quiet place for the
entire summer. She burned with an irrepressible desire to have me make
the acquaintance of this son of wealth and literature, either from the
feminine proclivity for match-making, or because, possibly, she thought,
having an intense reverence for writers, that our conversation would be
of an edifying and uncommon character. I fear she was disappointed, for
on the occasion of our first meeting,--I believe Mr. Longworth came to
see Mrs. Hopper on some trifling business, and I happened to be writing
on the front porch,--our remarks were certainly of the most commonplace
type, and I saw a shade of disappointment steal across her face, as she
stood by triumphantly, having accomplished her wish to "get us
acquainted."

Mr. Longworth overtook me the next day, as I was returning listlessly,
toward noon, from a long walk, my arms full of glowing St. John's wort,
the color of sunset. Back of me lay the long stretch of flat road, and
the fields on either side were scorched with the sun. The heat was
intolerable. Mr. Longworth would carry the flowers for me, and I
resigned them, knowing that nothing is more distasteful to a man than to
be treated like an invalid. And the bunch was really a heavy burden,--I
had gathered such an enormous armful, together with some tender creepers
of blackberry vine. We chatted of the place, of the people, and I found