. She could look up on either side to the sweep of grass, with the
wind twinkling in it--grass that rolled smoothly up to the gentle blue
sky beyond. On the one hand it was very near to her, that film of blue,
but to her right the narrow, bright heads of a young poplar grove pushed
up beyond the hilltop, and that made the sky fall back an immeasurable
distance. Not very much variety in that landscape, but there was an
infinite variety in the changes of the open-air silence. Overtones, all
of them--but what a range!

If she found that what was immediately overhead and beside her was too
bland, if she wearied of that lovely drift of clouds across the sky,
then she had only to raise herself upon one elbow and look down to the
broad, white band of the earth, and the startling blue of the ocean
beyond. She was a little way up among the hills, to be sure, but, in
spite of her elevation, when she looked out toward the horizon it seemed
that the sea was hollowed like a great bowl--that the horizon wave was
apt at any moment to roll in upon the beach and overwhelm her among the
hills.

Not a very great excitement for such a girl as Ruth Tolliver, to be
sure. Particularly when the faint crease between her eyes told of a
perpetual worry and a strain under which she was now living. She was
trying to lose herself in forgetfulness, in this open, drowsy climate.

Behind her a leisurely step came down one of the garden paths. It
brought her to attention at once. A shadow passed across her face, and
instantly she was sitting up, alert and excited.

John Mark sat down cross-legged beside her, a very changed John Mark,
indeed. He wore white trousers and low white shoes, with a sack coat of
blue--a cool-looking man even on this sultry day. The cane, which he
insisted upon at all times, he had planted between his knees to help in
the process of lowering himself to the ground. Now he hooked the head
over his shoulder, pushed back his hat and smiled at the girl.

"Everything is finished," he said calmly. "How well you look, Ruth--that
hair of yours against the green grass. Everything is finished; the
license and the clergyman will arrive here within the hour."

She shrugged her shoulders. As a rule she tried at least to be politely
acquiescent, but now and then something in her revolted. But John Mark
was an artist in choosing remarks and moments which should not be
noticed. Apparently her silence made not even a ripple on the calm
surf