as the real riddle, and I had
not, as yet, hit upon a plausible answer. Those I had hit upon were
ridiculous and impossible, and I put them from my mind. But she was not
tricky, that I knew.

Captain Jed changed the subject and we talked of Nellie's wedding, which
was to take place in a month. The captain was full of various emotions,
regret at losing his daughter and joy because of her getting such a good
husband. His last words were these:

"Ros," he said, "be careful, for my sake full as much as yours. This
Lane business and Nellie's gettin' married have sort of possessed me,
same as the evil spirits did the swine, in scriptur'. I lay awake nights
fussin' for fear the marriage won't turn out happy or for fear
you'll sell the Lane after all. And one's just as likely to happen as
t'other--which means they're both impossible, I cal'late. But look out
for that Colton girl, whatever else you do. She's a good deal better
lookin' than her dad, but she's just as dangerous. You mark my words,
son, the feller that plays with fire takes chances. So don't be TOO
sociable with any of the tribe."

And the very next afternoon the dangerous person herself called and she
and I spent an hour in Mother's room, where the three of us chatted
like old friends. She had the rare power of making one forget self and
personal worries and I could readily understand why Mother had been so
completely won by her. She was bright and cheery and sympathetic. Here
there was no trace of the pride of class and the arrogance which had
caused me to hate her so heartily at first. It seemed almost as if
she had set herself the task of making me like her in spite of my
prejudices. My reason told me that this could not be; it was merely her
fancy for Mother which caused her to notice me at all; she had as much
as said so more than once. But I did like her; I acknowledged it in
my thoughts; and, after she had gone, the room, with its drawn shades,
seemed doubly dark and gloomy. Mother was silent for a few minutes and
I, too, said nothing. Then:

"She is a wonderful girl, isn't she, Roscoe," said Mother.

She was altogether too wonderful, that was the trouble. A girl like
her had no place in our lives. I went out for a walk and a smoke by the
bluff edge; and, almost before I knew it, I found myself standing at
the border of the grove, looking at the great house and trying to guess
which was her room and if she was there and of what or whom she might be
th