h force
that the boat tipped, and in a second we were both in the water. I knew
I could not swim, but I hoped that the water so near the bank would be
shallow; and it was, but there was a deep hole under the roots of the
tree."

He could get no further. Poor lad! the wonder was that he had not been
drowned himself. A negro ploughing in the field near by saw the accident
and ran to his help, catching him as he was sinking for the third time.
Stella never rose after she went down; her clothing had been entangled
in the roots of the beech.

Sorrow for the young life cut off so untimely was deep and universal,
and sought to manifest itself in tender ministrations to the brother so
cruelly bereaved. But Lindsay shrank from all offices of sympathy, and
except for seeking now and then Wayland's silent companionship, bore his
grief alone.

The college was too poor to establish the fellowship in Greek, but the
adjunct professor in mathematics resigned, and young Cowart was elected
to his place, with the proviso that he give two months further study to
the subject in the summer school of some university. Wayland decided
which by taking him back with him to Cambridge, where he showed the boy
an admirable friendship.

Lindsay applied himself to his special studies with the utmost
diligence. It was impossible, moreover, that his new surroundings should
not appeal to his tastes in many directions; but in spite of his
response to these larger opportunities, his friend discerned that the
wound which the young man kept so carefully hidden had not, after all
these weeks, begun even slightly to heal.

Late on an August night, impelled as he often was to share the solitude
which Lindsay affected, he sought him at his lodgings, and not finding
him, followed what he knew was a favorite walk with the boy, and came
upon him half hidden under the shadows of an elm in the woods that
skirted Mount Auburn. "I thought you might be here," he said, taking the
place that Lindsay made for him on the seat. Many words were never
necessary between them.

The moon was full and the sky cloudless, and for some time they sat in
silence, yielding to the tranquil loveliness of the scene and to that
inner experience of the soul brooding over each, and more inscrutable
than the fathomless vault above them.

"I suppose we shall never get used to a midnight that is still and at
the same time lustrous, as this is to-night," Wayland said. "The sense
of its