r, and so we make fools of ourselves, and it takes us a
long time to live down our reputations. As we grow older, we believe
less and less in its reality. Perhaps by and by we do not trust to
anybody's sympathy, not even our own.
"We have an old country place," he was saying; "it belonged to my
grandfather. My grandfather came by it when the little town was very
small indeed, so he built an old-fashioned stone house and surrounded
it with large grounds." He was seeing the stone house and the large
grounds with that new inner observation which he had just discovered,
and he was trying to the best of his ability to tell what he saw. After
a little he spoke more rhythmically. Many might have thought he spoke
sentimentally, because with feeling; but in reality he was merely
trying with great earnestness for expression. A jarring word would have
brought him back to his everyday mood, but for the time being he was
wrapt in what he saw. This is a condition which all writers, and some
lovers, will recognise. "Now the place is empty--except in
summer--except that we have an old woman who lives tucked away in one
corner of it. I lived there one summer just after I finished college.
Outside my window there was an apple tree that just brushed against
the ledge; there were rose vines, the climbing sort, on the wall; and
then, too, there was a hickory tree that towered 'way over the roof. In
the front yard is what is known all over town as the 'big tree,' a
silver maple, at least twice as tall as the house. It is so broad that
its shade falls over the whole front of the place. In the back is an
orchard of old apple trees, and trellises of big blue grapes. On one
side is a broad lawn, at the back of which is one of the good
old-fashioned flower gardens that does one good to look at. There are
little pink primroses dotting the sod, sweet-william, lavender,
nasturtiums, sweet peas, hollyhocks, bachelor's buttons, portulaca, and
a row of tall sunflowers, the delight of a sleepy colony of hens. I
learned all the flowers that summer." He clasped his hands comfortably
back of his head and looked at her. She was gazing out over the Bad
Lands to the East. "In the very centre, as a sort of protecting nurse
to all the littler flowers," he went on, "is a big lilac bush, and
there the bees and humming birds are thick on a warm spring day. There
are plenty of birds too, but I didn't know so many of them. They
nested everywhere--in the 'big tree,'
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