o see you make a marriage such as this. He has
nothing but roughness and coarseness to offer you in exchange for all
that is refined and delicate in you. He is no match for you in any way.
He could not support you. We have no foolish ideas about wealth, but
comfort is another matter, and our daughter should at least marry a man
who can give her that--and not a penniless adventurer, a sailor, a
cowboy, a smuggler, and Heaven knows what else, who, in addition to
everything, is hare-brained and irresponsible."

Ruth was silent. Every word she recognized as true.

"He wastes his time over his writing, trying to accomplish what geniuses
and rare men with college educations sometimes accomplish. A man
thinking of marriage should be preparing for marriage. But not he. As I
have said, and I know you agree with me, he is irresponsible. And why
should he not be? It is the way of sailors. He has never learned to be
economical or temperate. The spendthrift years have marked him. It is
not his fault, of course, but that does not alter his nature. And have
you thought of the years of licentiousness he inevitably has lived? Have
you thought of that, daughter? You know what marriage means."

Ruth shuddered and clung close to her mother.

"I have thought." Ruth waited a long time for the thought to frame
itself. "And it is terrible. It sickens me to think of it. I told you
it was a dreadful accident, my loving him; but I can't help myself. Could
you help loving father? Then it is the same with me. There is something
in me, in him--I never knew it was there until to-day--but it is there,
and it makes me love him. I never thought to love him, but, you see, I
do," she concluded, a certain faint triumph in her voice.

They talked long, and to little purpose, in conclusion agreeing to wait
an indeterminate time without doing anything.

The same conclusion was reached, a little later that night, between Mrs.
Morse and her husband, after she had made due confession of the
miscarriage of her plans.

"It could hardly have come otherwise," was Mr. Morse's judgment. "This
sailor-fellow has been the only man she was in touch with. Sooner or
later she was going to awaken anyway; and she did awaken, and lo! here
was this sailor-fellow, the only accessible man at the moment, and of
course she promptly loved him, or thought she did, which amounts to the
same thing."

Mrs. Morse took it upon herself to work slowly and in