r nods
and gestures were so much a part of her, so piquant, decisive, and full
of expression, when she did not intrench herself behind a studied
dignity.

"I am glad you have heard it. I was wondering how best to tell you. I
thought Garafield's might be a stepping-stone, these hard times, but it
may prove the veritable ladder itself. Only"--

"Well!" with a trifle of impatience, as if she could not endure the
suggestiveness of the tone.

"I wonder if you understand the courage it took for Fred Lawrence to
make a home here in Yerbury, to bring his mother and sister; for you see
he must endure for them as well as himself. Mrs. Lawrence will always be
an invalid, I suppose. He thinks her quite changed and softened:
evidently she clings to him. They see none of their old friends. Miss
Lawrence never goes anywhere."

"As if one could help that!" almost passionately. "Auntie wrote a note
to Mrs. Lawrence, and it was merely answered. They do not desire to
receive any one. We can only let them alone, Jack."

"Even then we can hardly fail to appreciate what he is doing, possibly
suffering. I think he will come in time to win back all the regard his
friends ever gave him," Jack Darcy said in a steady tone.

Was he pleading for him? Sylvie was somewhat puzzled, the most so,
perhaps, about herself. How much had she cared for Fred in that old
time? If not at all, why did this feeling of shame over a fallen idol
continually haunt her? She compared the two men in every thing, and
sometimes was vexed to admit that Jack was the nobler.

Their walk had come to an end. They paused at the gate; and a third
person striding up Larch Avenue took in the drooping, attentive, and
pliant figure, the strong, protecting, powerful personality of the
other,--and wondered, as he had more than once before. Were they friends
merely? It was not possible for a woman to see so much of Jack Darcy's
noble, manly life, and not admire, not love, Dr. Maverick admitted. She
showed in many ways that she did care for him. Oddly enough she
sheltered herself under his friendly care when other admirers came too
near. Could not Darcy see! What a blind, stupid mole he must be in this
respect! and the doctor kicked a stone in his path with such force that
the two turned in the midst of their good-bys, and waited with smiling
faces for him to reach them. Not a shade of annoyance in look or tone at
the interruption.

"The queerest lovers," he thought to himself.