oth."

"Let me know how things go," said the old man. "And good-night, Reuben."

A tender twilight still reigned outside, and Reuben, walking along the
village street, could see the softened mass of roofs and chimneys and
the dark green bulk of trees outlined clearly against the sky. The air
was soft and still, and something in the quiet and the dimness of the
hour seemed to bear a hint of memory or continuation of the scene which
had just closed. He was going to see Ruth at once, and she was naturally
in his mind, and presented herself as vividly there as if he had been
in her presence. The old man's trouble was so much more real to a lover
than it could have been to another man! If it were he and Ruth who were
thus parted! There lay a whole heartache. He loved Ezra, and yet it did
not seem possible to feel his grief half so well save by seeing it as
his own. Such a lonely terror lay in the thought of parting from Ruth
and living forever without her, that it awoke in him an actual pang of
pain for his uncle's trouble.

"But," said Reuben, as he strode along, "that is what was. He felt it,
no doubt, and felt it for many a dreary month. But it's over now,
for the most part. I could have cried for him this morning, and again
to-night, but it was more pity for the past than for the present."

Ezra had been a sad man always, since Reuben could remember him, and
yet not altogether an unhappy one. The sunshine of his life had seemed
veiled, but not extinguished. And could love do so little at its most
unfortunate and hapless ending? For some, maybe, but surely not for
Reuben! For him, if love should die, what could there be but clouds and
darkness forever and always? But the old take things tranquilly, and to
the young it seems that they must always have been tranquil. Uncle Ezra
a lover? A possible fancy. But Ezra loving as _he_ loved? An impossible
fancy. And even six-and-thirty looked old to Reuben's eyes, for he stood
a whole decade under it.

"I will go at once," said Ruth, so soon as she knew what was required of
her. "I'll just tell father, and then I'll put on my hat and be ready in
a minute. Will you "--with an exquisite demureness and simplicity--"will
you go with me, Reuben?"

"Go and see Aunt Rachel?" cried old Fuller, when the girl had told him
her intention. "Well, why not?" Ruth ran up-stairs, and Fuller waddled
into the room where Reuben waited. "Ruth talks about bringin' th' ode
wench back to rayson," h