d, hovered about the curves of her mouth and looked shyly out from
under her lids. Eben felt his heart stir wonderfully. He bent toward her
and spoke half breathlessly.

"Say, Lyddy, I don't know 's I knew half how pretty you were." Then he
laughed a little, as if he were ashamed. He was not a man of words, save
only when he was joking. Thus far his fondness for her had found
expression in an unfailing service and in mute caresses. He spoke
bluntly now, chirruping to the horse: "I dunno 's ever I see any eyes
quite so blue--unless 'twas my first wife's."

It was as if a sponge had passed over the quivering beauty of the earth
and wiped it out. For the moment Lydia felt as if she were not his wife
at all. At her silence, Eben turned and glanced at her; but her eyes
were closed.

"Tired?" he asked fondly, and she faltered:--

"I guess so."

Then, according to a tender custom, he put his arm about her and drew
her to him, and while he thought she slept, she lay there, her eyes
closed against his breast, and the hard certainty upon her of something
to think about. Blankness had seized upon her, not because he had
married a woman before her, but because he had not told. Possibly he had
told her mother in some of their desultory talks and had forgotten to
say more. The chill wonder of it sprang from her learning it too late.
She had to adapt herself to a new man. Until now she had believed that
it was spring with them, and that he had waited for her with an
involuntary fealty, as she had done for him. They had every guerdon of
young love, except that there were not so many years before them. But
even that paled beside the triumphant sense that no boy or girl could
possibly be as happy as they, with their ripened patience and sense of
fun. A phrase came into her mind as she lay there against his heart and
knew he was driving slowly to let her rest: "the wife of his youth." It
hurt her keenly, and she caught a breath so sharp and sudden that he
drew her closer, as one stirs a child to let it fall into an easier
pose.

That day they stopped at an old-fashioned tavern in a drowsy town, and
Lydia, after dinner, where she talked quite gayly about the house and
the garden and the farther hills, said she thought she would go upstairs
and lie down a spell. Eben looked at her with concern. She was always as
ready as he for "poking about" new places.

"Ain't you feelin' well?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes," said Lydia, "I'm all rig