"We'll see," said the politic Mrs. Atwood. "We mustn't drive father
too fast."

Roger felt that at last he was getting acquainted, and he looked
forward to the long summer evening with much hope. But nothing
happened as he expected, for Mildred was silent and preoccupied
at supper, and Mrs. Jocelyn appeared to have relapsed into her old
depression.

Instead of going out in his buggy to spend the evening with one
of his many favorites, as had been his custom, he took a book and
sat down under a tree near the porch, so that he might join Mildred
if she gave him any encouragement to do so. Belle found him taciturn
and far removed from his gay mood of the morning, and so at last
left him in peace.

Sue was entertaining a rural admirer in the parlor, which was rarely
used except on such momentous occasions, and all was propitious for
a quiet talk with the object of his kindling interest. His heart
beat quickly as he saw her appear on the porch with her hat and
shawl, but instead of noticing him she went rapidly by with bowed
head and climbed an eminence near the house, from which there was
an extended view to the southward. He felt, as well as saw, that
she wished to be alone, that he was not in her thoughts, that she
was still as distant from him as he had ever imagined her to be. The
shadows deepened, the evening grew dusky, the stars came out, and
yet she did not return. For a long time he could see her outline
as she sat on the hill top, and then it faded. He knew she was
in trouble, and found a vague pleasure in watching with her, in
remaining within call should she be frightened, knowing, however,