t there was in Mara's heart,
and what provision he should make on his part for returning this
incalculable debt. But the interview of this evening had raised a new
thought in his mind. Mara, as he saw that day, was no longer a little
girl in a pink sun-bonnet. She was a woman,--a little one, it is true,
but every inch a woman,--and a woman invested with a singular poetic
charm of appearance, which, more than beauty, has the power of awakening
feeling in the other sex.

He felt in himself, in the experience of that one day, that there was
something subtle and veiled about her, which set the imagination at
work; that the wistful, plaintive expression of her dark eyes, and a
thousand little shy and tremulous movements of her face, affected him
more than the most brilliant of Sally Kittridge's sprightly sallies.
Yes, there would be people falling in love with her fast enough, he
thought even here, where she is as secluded as a pearl in an
oyster-shell,--it seems means were found to come after her,--and then
all the love of her heart, that priceless love, would go to another.

Mara would be absorbed in some one else, would love some one else, as he
knew she could, with heart and soul and mind and strength. When he
thought of this, it affected him much as it would if one were turned out
of a warm, smiling apartment into a bleak December storm. What should he
do, if that treasure which he had taken most for granted in all his
valuations of life should suddenly be found to belong to another? Who
was this fellow that seemed so free to visit her, and what had passed
between them? Was Mara in love with him, or going to be? There is no
saying how the consideration of this question enhanced in our hero's
opinion both her beauty and all her other good qualities.

Such a brave little heart! such a good, clear little head! and such a
pretty hand and foot! She was always so cheerful, so unselfish, so
devoted! When had he ever seen her angry, except when she had taken up
some childish quarrel of his, and fought for him like a little Spartan?
Then she was pious, too. She was born religious, thought our hero, who,
in common with many men professing skepticism for their own particular
part, set a great value on religion in that unknown future person whom
they are fond of designating in advance as "my wife." Yes, Moses meant
his wife should be pious, and pray for him, while he did as he pleased.

"Now there's that witch of a Sally Kittrid