in
the wilderness and came out a little west of Albany where I took a boat
for New York to see Hope. I came down the North River between the great
smoky cities, on either side of it, one damp and chilly morning. The
noise, the crowds, the immensity of the town appalled me. At John
Fuller's I found that Hope had gone home and while they tried to detain
me longer I came back on the night boat of the same day. Hope and I
passed each other in that journey and I did not see her until the summer
preceding my third and last year in college--the faculty having allowed
me to take two years in one. Her letters had come less frequently and
when she came I saw a grand young lady of fine manners, her beauty
shaping to an ampler mould, her form straightening to the dignity of
womanhood.

At the depot our hands were cold and trembling with excitement--neither
of us, I fancy, knowing quite how far to go in our greeting. Our
correspondence had been true to the promise made her mother--there had
not been a word of love in it--only now and then a suggestion of our
tender feeling. We hesitated only for the briefest moment. Then I put my
arm about her neck and kissed her.

'I am so glad to see you,' she said.

Well, she was charming and beautiful, but different, and probably
not more different than was I. She was no longer the laughing,
simple-mannered child of Faraway, whose heart was as one's hand before
him in the daylight. She had now a bit of the woman's reserve--her
prudence, her skill in hiding the things of the heart. I loved her more
than ever, but somehow I felt it hopeless--that she had grown out of my
life. She was much in request among the people of Hillsborough, and we
went about a good deal and had many callers. But we had little time to
ourselves. She seemed to avoid that, and had much to say of the grand
young men who came to call on her in the great city. Anyhow it all hurt
me to the soul and even robbed me of my sleep. A better lover than
I would have made an end of dallying and got at the truth, come what
might. But I was of the Puritans, and not of the Cavaliers, and my way
was that which God had marked for me, albeit I must own no man had ever
a keener eye for a lovely woman or more heart to please her. A mighty
pride had come to me and I had rather have thrown my heart to vultures
than see it an unwelcome offering. And I was quite out of courage with
Hope; she, I dare say, was as much out of patience with me.

S