I 'm all right now. I don't mind tellin' you that ef I was
ever goin' to marry, you 'd be my choice, but I ain't a-goin' to have my
father's sperrit a-thinkin' that I took advantage of his death to marry
you. Good-bye, 'Liphalet.' She held out her hand to me, an' I took it.
'Come an' see me sometimes,' she said. I could n't answer, so I went out
and got on old Bess an' we jogged away. It was an awful disappointment,
but I thought I would wait an' let my girl come aroun', fur sometimes
they do,--in fact mostly; but she has never give me a sign to make me
think that she has. That was twenty years ago, an' I 've been waitin'
faithful ever sence. But it seems like she was different from most
women, an' 'specially good on holdin' out. People that was babies then
have growed up an' married. An' now the old companion that has been with
me through all this waitin' has left me. I know what it means. It means
that I 'm old, that years have been wasted, that chances have been lost.
But you have taught me my lesson, Bess. Dear old Bess, even in yore last
hours you did me a service, an' you, Freddie, you have given me the
stren'th that I had twenty years ago, an' I 'm a-goin' to try to save
what remains of my life. I never felt how alone I was until now." He was
greatly agitated. He rose and grasped the boy's arm. "Come, Freddie," he
said; "come on. I 'm a-goin' ag'in to ask Miss Prime to be my wife."

"Miss Prime!" exclaimed Fred, aghast.

"Miss Prime was my sweetheart, Freddie, thirty years ago, jest like
'Lizabeth is yor'n now. Come along."

The two set out, Hodges stepping with impatient alacrity, and the boy
too astounded to speak.

It was a beautiful morning at the end of June. The sense of spring's
reviving influence had not yet given way to the full languor and
sensuousness of summer. The wind was soft and warm and fragrant. The air
was full of the song of birds and the low droning of early bees. The
river that flowed between the green hills and down through Dexter was
like a pane of wrinkled glass, letting light and joy even into the
regions below. Over the streets and meadows and hills lay a half haze,
like a veil over the too dazzling beauty of an Eastern princess. The hum
of business--for in the passing years Dexter had grown busy--the roar of
traffic in the streets, all melted into a confused and intoxicating
murmur as the pedestrians passed into the residence portion of the town
to the cottage where Miss Prime still