VERS AND LOVERS 248

XVI PERILOUS PATHS 270

XVII THE FLOWERING OF THE SOUL 288

XVIII THE PASSING OF OLD SALEM 296

CHAPTER I

TWO LETTERS

The Leveretts were at their breakfast in the large sunny room in Derby
Street. It had an outlook on the garden, and beyond the garden was a
lane, well used and to be a street itself in the future. Then, at quite
a distance, a strip of woods on a rise of ground, that still further
enhanced the prospect. The sun slanted in at the windows on one side,
there was nothing to shut it out. It would go all round the house now,
and seem to end where it began, in the garden.

Chilian was very fond of it. He always brought his book to the table; he
liked to eat slowly, to gaze out and digest one or two thoughts at his
leisure, as well as the delightful breakfast set before him. He was a
man of delicate tastes and much refinement, for with all the New England
sturdiness, hardness one might say, there was in many families a strain
of what we might term high breeding. His face, with its clear-cut
features, indicated this. His hair was rather light, fine, with a few
waves in it that gave it a slightly tumbled look--far from any touch of
disorder. His eyes were a deep, clear blue, his complexion fair enough
for a woman.

His father and grandfather had lived and died in this house. He had
bought out his sister's share when she married, and she had gone to
Providence. He had asked the two relatives of his father--termed cousins
by courtesy--to continue housekeeping. They were the last of their
family and in rather straitened circumstances. Miss Elizabeth was
nearing sixty, tall, straight, fair, and rather austere-looking. Eunice
was two years younger, shorter, a trifle stouter, with a rounder face,
and a mouth that wore a certain sweetness when it did not actually
smile.

Chilian was past thirty. He was a Harvard graduate, and now went in two
days each week for teaching classes. His father had left some business
interests in Salem, rather distasteful to him, but he was a strictly
conscientious person and attended to them, if with a sort of mental
protest. For the rest, he was a bookworm and revelled in intellectual
pursuits.

The day previous had been desperately stormy, this late March morning
was simply glorious. The mail, which came late in the afternoon, had not
been delivered, causing no uneasines