morning. It surprised her that he sought no explanation, and before
three o'clock Briarsfield was a mere speck in the distance.




CHAPTER VIII.

_THE HEAVENLY CANAAN._


Nearly two months later Beth returned home. Marie had broken off her
visit abruptly, and Clarence had gone away. It was a rainy Saturday, and
Beth sat waiting for her father to finish his rounds. Her visit had
refreshed her, and she looked fairly well again. After all, she had so
many bright prospects! She was young and talented. Her novel was
finished. She would read it through at once, making minor corrections,
and then publish it. With all youth's hopefulness, she was sure of fame
and worldly success, perhaps of wealth too. She seemed to see a rich
harvest-field before her as she sat listening to the rain beat on the
roof that summer afternoon. But, after all, she was not happy. Somehow,
life was all so hollow! So much tangle and confusion! Her young feet
were weary. It was not simply that her love was unreturned. That pained
her far less than she would have thought. It was that her idol was
shattered. Only in the last few weeks had she begun to see Clarence
Mayfair as he really was. It was a wonderfully deep insight into human
nature that Beth had; but she had never applied it where Clarence was
concerned before, and now that she did, what was it she saw?--a weak,
wavering, fickle youth, with a good deal of fine sentiment, perhaps, but
without firm, manly strength; ambitious, it was true, but never likely