spised the practice) an early bed-time,
seemed to have no relation to anything, not even to itself; but a
fellow-tenant of whom he made an inquiry told him the village was
sprinkled round. Basil presently walked along the road in search of it,
under the stars, smoking one of the good cigars which constituted his
only tribute to luxury. He reflected that it would hardly do to begin
his attack that night; he ought to give the Bostonians a certain amount
of notice of his appearance on the scene. He thought it very possible,
indeed, that they might be addicted to the vile habit of "retiring" with
the cocks and hens. He was sure that was one of the things Olive
Chancellor would do so long as he should stay--on purpose to spite him;
she would make Verena Tarrant go to bed at unnatural hours, just to
deprive him of his evenings. He walked some distance without
encountering a creature or discerning an habitation; but he enjoyed the
splendid starlight, the stillness, the shrill melancholy of the
crickets, which seemed to make all the vague forms of the country
pulsate around him; the whole impression was a bath of freshness after
the long strain of the preceding two years and his recent sweltering
weeks in New York. At the end of ten minutes (his stroll had been slow)
a figure drew near him, at first indistinct, but presently defining
itself as that of a woman. She was walking apparently without purpose,
like himself, or without other purpose than that of looking at the
stars, which she paused for an instant, throwing back her head, to
contemplate, as he drew nearer to her. In a moment he was very close; he
saw her look at him, through the clear gloom, as they passed each other.
She was small and slim; he made out her head and face, saw that her hair
was cropped; had an impression of having seen her before. He noticed
that as she went by she turned as well as himself, and that there was a
sort of recognition in her movement. Then he felt sure that he had seen
her elsewhere, and before she had added to the distance that separated
them he stopped short, looking after her. She noticed his halt, paused
equally, and for a moment they stood there face to face, at a certain
interval, in the darkness.

"I beg your pardon--is it Doctor Prance?" he found himself demanding.

For a minute there was no answer; then came the voice of the little
lady:

"Yes, sir; I am Doctor Prance. Any one sick at the hotel?"

"I hope not; I don't know,"