,--and stillness," said Sylvie. "They always
seem like heaven."

Rodney stood with his right hand, from which fell the looped reins,
reached up and resting on the saddle.

"I never saw a sight like that before," he said.

While they looked, the evening star trembled out through the clear
saffron, above the floating mist that hung among the hills.

"O, they never can help it!" exclaimed Sylvie, suddenly.

"Help it? Who?" asked Rodney, wondering.

"Beginning again. Growing good. Those people who are coming up to
Hill-hope. There's a man coming, with his wife; a young man, who got
into bad ways, and took to drinking. Mr. Vireo has been watching and
advising him so long! He married them, five years ago, and they have
two little children. The wife is delicate; she has worried through
everything. She has taken in working-men's washing, to earn the
rent; and he had a good trade, too; he was a plasterer. He has
really tried; but it was no use in the city; it was all around him.
And he lost character and chances; the bosses wouldn't have him, he
said. When he was trying most, sometimes, they wouldn't believe in
him; and then there would come idle days, and he would meet old
companions, and get led off, and then there would be weeks of
misery. Now he is coming away from it all. There is a little cottage
ready, with a garden; the little wife is so happy! He _can't_ get it
here; and he will have work at his trade, and will learn
brickmaking. Do you know, I think a place like this, where such
work is doing, is almost better than heaven, where it is all done,
Rodney!"

She spoke his name, as he had hers a little while ago, without
thinking. He turned his face toward her with a look which kindled
into sudden light at that last word, but which had warmed all
through before with the generous pathos of what she told him, and
the earnest, simple way of it.

"I've found out that even in our own affairs, _making_ is better
than ready-made," he said. "This last year has been the best year of
my life. If my father had given me fifty thousand dollars, and told
me I might--have all my own way with it,--I shouldn't have thanked
him as much to-day, as I do. But I wish that steamer were in, and he
were here! He has got something which belongs to me, and I want him
to give it back."

After enunciating this little riddle, Rodney changed hands with his
reins, and faced about toward the vehicle, reaching his other to
Sylvie.

"You had b