utterfly of fashion simply because one was engaged to
marry another man at some distant day.

All Edgewood femininity united in saying that there never was such a
perfect gentleman as Claude Merrill; and during the time when his
popularity was at its height Rose lost sight of the fact that Stephen
could have furnished the stuff for a dozen Claudes and have had enough
left for an ordinary man besides.

April gave place to May, and a veil hung between the lovers,--an
intangible, gossamer-like thing, not to be seen with the naked eye, but,
oh! so plainly to be felt. Rose hid herself thankfully behind it, while
Stephen had not courage to lift a corner. She had twice been seen
driving with Claude Merrill--that Stephen knew; but she had explained
that there were errands to be done, that her grandfather had taken the
horse, and that Mr. Merrill's escort had been both opportune and
convenient for these practical reasons. Claude was everywhere present,
the centre of attraction, the observed of all observers. He was
irresistible, contagious, almost epidemic. Rose was now gay, now silent;
now affectionate, now distant, now coquettish; in fine, everything that
was capricious, mysterious, agitating, incomprehensible.

One morning Alcestis Crambry went to the post-office for Stephen and
brought him back the newspapers and letters. He had hung about the River
Farm so much that Stephen finally gave him bed and food in exchange for
numberless small errands. Rufus was temporarily confined in a dark room
with some strange pain and trouble in his eyes, and Alcestis proved of
use in many ways. He had always been Rose's slave, and had often brought
messages and notes from the Brier Neighborhood, so that when Stephen saw
a folded note among the papers his heart gave a throb of anticipation.

The note was brief, and when he had glanced through it he said: "This is
not mine, Alcestis; it belongs to Miss Rose. Go straight back and give
it to her as you were told; and another time keep your wits about you,
or I'll send you back to Killick."

Alcestis Crambry's ideas on all subjects were extremely vague. Claude
Merrill had given him a letter for Rose, but his notion was that
anything that belonged to her belonged to Stephen, and the Waterman
place was much nearer than the Wileys', particularly at dinner-time!

When the boy had slouched away, Stephen sat under the apple tree, now a
mass of roseate bloom, and buried his face in his hands.

It