d
man, and having given Rufus the second call to breakfast with the vigor
and acrimony that usually mark that unpleasant performance, he strode to
a high point on the riverbank and, shading his eyes with his hand, gazed
steadily downstream.

Patches of green fodder and blossoming potatoes melted into soft fields
that had been lately mown, and there were glimpses of tasseling corn
rising high to catch the sun. Far, far down on the opposite bank of the
river was the hint of a brown roof, and the tip of a chimney that sent a
slender wisp of smoke into the clear air. Beyond this, and farther back
from the water, the trees apparently hid a cluster of other chimneys,
for thin spirals of smoke ascended here and there. The little brown
roof could never have revealed itself to any but a lover's eye; and that
discerned something even smaller, something like a pinkish speck, that
moved hither and thither on a piece of greensward that sloped to the
waterside.

"She's up!" Stephen exclaimed under his breath, his eyes shining, his
lips smiling. His voice had a note of hushed exaltation about it, as if
"she," whoever she might be, had, in condescending to rise, conferred a
priceless boon upon a waiting universe. If she were indeed "up" (so his
tone implied), then the day, somewhat falsely heralded by the sunrise,
had really begun, and the human race might pursue its appointed tasks,
inspired and uplifted by the consciousness of her existence. It might
properly be grateful for the fact of her birth; that she had grown to
woman's estate; and, above all, that, in common with the sun, the lark,
the morning-glory, and other beautiful things of the early day, she was
up and about her lovely, cheery, heart-warming business.

The handful of chimneys and the smoke-spirals rising here and there
among the trees on the river-bank belonged to what was known as the
Brier Neighborhood. There were only a few houses in all, scattered along
a side road leading from the river up to Liberty Center. There were no
great signs of thrift or prosperity, but the Wiley cottage, the only
one near the water, was neat and well cared for, and Nature had done her
best to conceal man's indolence, poverty, or neglect.

Bushes of sweetbrier grew in fragrant little forests as tall as the
fences. Clumps of wild roses sprang up at every turn, and over all the
stone walls, as well as on every heap of rocks by the wayside, prickly
blackberry vines ran and clambered and