rms. She was very much
shattered,--quite an old woman long before her time, made so by the
follies of an indolent, enervating life. Like a pang the thought pierced
his brain, that for these paltry results his father had given the
strength and labor of manhood.

CHAPTER XVI.

THERE were a few faint hints of autumn in Yerbury. The air was warm, and
freighted with the peculiar sweetness of over-ripe grapes and apples, of
dried balsam and faded golden-rod by the wayside. The very air seemed to
quiver with intense contrasts of color, the yellow beeches standing out
in strong relief, the bronze-red of one great oak, the bluish-green of
the spruce, and the tender tints of fading, long-armed larches, drooping
in regretful sadness. Lights of silvery gray and russet-brown, pale gold
and hazy purple, and a sapphire sky bending over all. The artistic side
of Fred Lawrence's soul was touched as he had once fancied nothing this
side of Europe could touch it.

For a moment a mighty rush of regret came over him. This magnificent
place had been his home. Perhaps he would have been more than human not
to have experienced a pang.

He wandered about for some time. It was too lovely to go in and explore
those dusty, darkened rooms: this evening would answer for that. He
paced the lawn, he lingered by the gate; he took a turn about the
grapery, now used for profit by the thrifty farmer who had charge of the
place. Then he turned, and went down the street. The bells were ringing
for six. From his height above, he could see the laborers wending their
way, the great chimney of Hope Mills. He would walk in that direction.
They would all be gone by the time he reached it.

The streets were indeed nearly deserted. In the shade here the wind
blew a little chilly. Yes, it was just the same; but then, it would not
be likely to alter in a year. Why, it seemed a decade almost, since the
night he had come home to his dying father!

Ah, if they had been more to each other! Did he go about with a lonely
spirit, Fred wondered, feeling the uselessness and insufficiency of the
life he was leading? Had he been glad to lay the burthen down?

A sudden firm, manful step ran down the stone stairway with a cheerful
ring, and a voice hummed a tune softly, as one sometimes does for a
seeming accompaniment, when the mind is occupied with other things;--a
tall, robust figure, with long arms, and a springy step, as if he might
still leap a post, or jump