own, sometimes with her back toward the
girl sitting on the log, her hands in her lap, lying dreamily; sometimes
she wheeled about and stood wide of eye and with mouth open.

"Well, who ever heard of the like? But are you sure he is the same man?"

"Yes. I did not remind him that I had seen him there. He said that he
had seen me--he said--"

"But what did he say? You must keep nothing back now. It would spoil
everything. What did he say?"

"He said that he got on his horse and galloped away--from me. He said
that he did not want to be--be tangled up."

"Well, well, who ever heard of such a thing? And you have met out here.
Has he asked you to marry him?"

"No, and I do not think he will. I must not marry him."

"But you love him."

"Bitterly, madam."

"Oh, isn't that sweet--I mean, how peculiar a situation it is! No, you
can't think of marrying him. It wouldn't at all do. I don't believe he
could live tied down to one place. It is a first love and must live only
as a romance. It will help you in your art. It will be an inspiration to
all your after life, a poem to recite to your daughter in the years to
come. I had one, my dear. He was wild, wholly impossible, you might say.
And I was foolish enough to have married him, but my mother--she married
me to the dear Doctor. And how fortunate it was for both of us, I mean
for me and for Arthur! He threw himself away."

"But he might not have thrown himself away, madam, if you had married
him."

"Oh, yes, he was really thrown away before I met him. My mother was
right. She knew. She had married the opposite to her romance."

"But are women never to marry the men they love?"

"Oh, yes, to be sure. We all love our husbands. But we ought not to
marry our first love. That would be absurd. It would leave our after
life without a sweet regret. My dear, romantic love is one thing and
marriage is another. Love is a distress and marriage is business. That's
what the Doctor says."

"And pardon me, madam, but he lives it."

"How? What do you mean?"

"Why, you are his business partner. You take care of his house. If you
are not there your servants keep the house. He may be pleased to see
you, but there is never any joy in his eyes--or yours. You are
dissatisfied with life. You try to make yourself believe you are not,
but you are. You look about for something, all the time. If you and the
Doctor should fail in business, you would grow tired of each other. You
told me