er presence. I doubt if she had ever seen me so serious
before. 'Have I offended you?' she asked. Of course, I denied it; but
I failed to satisfy her. She began to tremble. 'Has somebody said
something against me? Are you weary of my company?' Those were the next
questions. It was useless to say No. Some perverse distrust of me, or
some despair of herself, overpowered her on a sudden. She sank down
on the floor of the fishing-house, and began to cry--not a good hearty
burst of tears; a silent, miserable, resigned sort of crying, as if she
had lost all claim to be pitied, and all right to feel wounded or hurt.
I was so distressed, that I thought of nothing but consoling her. I
meant well, and I acted like a fool. A sensible man would have lifted
her up, I suppose, and left her to herself. I lifted her up, and put my
arm round her waist. She looked at me as I did it. For just a moment,
I declare she became twenty years younger! She blushed as I have never
seen a woman blush before or since--the colour flowed all over her neck
as well as her face. Before I could say a word, she caught hold of my
hand, and (of all the confusing things in the world!) kissed it. 'No!'
she cried, 'don't despise me! don't laugh at me! Wait, and hear what
my life has been, and then you will understand why a little kindness
overpowers me.' She looked round the corner of the fishing-house
suspiciously. 'I don't want anybody else to hear us,' she said, 'all the
pride isn't beaten out of me yet. Come to the lake, and row me about in
the boat.' I took her out in the boat. Nobody could hear us certainly;
but she forgot, and I forgot, that anybody might see us, and that
appearances on the lake might lead to false conclusions on shore."

Mr. Hethcote and Rufus exchanged significant looks. They had not
forgotten the Rules of the Community, when two of its members showed a
preference for each other's society.

Amelius proceeded. "Well, there we were on the lake. I paddled with the
oars, and she opened her whole heart to me. Her troubles had begun, in
a very common way, with her mother's death and her father's second
marriage. She had a brother and a sister--the sister married a German
merchant, settled in New York; the brother comfortably established as
a sheep-farmer in Australia. So, you see, she was alone at home, at the
mercy of the step-mother. I don't understand these cases myself, but
people who do, tell me that there are generally faults on both s