poured out much of her woes, and from whom she won an
intelligent sort of slobbering sympathy. And then she sharply scolded
Caesar for nothing at all, and a moment after returned to the house
with the air and face of a deeply injured angel, who had been
disappointed in some celestial idea of setting this world right, but
was still not above forgiveness,--a spectacle that sunk Major Van Zandt
into the dark depths of remorse, and eventually sent him to smoke a
pipe of Virginia with his men in the roadside camp; seeing which,
Thankful went early to bed, and cried herself to sleep. And Nature
possibly followed her example; for at sunset a great thaw set in, and
by midnight the freed rivers and brooks were gurgling melodiously, and
tree and shrub and fence were moist and dripping.

The red dawn at last struggled through the vaporous veil that hid the
landscape. Then occurred one of those magical changes peculiar to the
climate, yet perhaps pre-eminently notable during that historic winter
and spring. By ten o'clock on that 3d of May, 1780, a fervent
June-like sun had rent that vaporous veil, and poured its direct rays
upon the gaunt and haggard profile of the Jersey hills. The chilled
soil responded but feebly to that kiss; perhaps a few of the willows
that yellowed the river-banks took on a deeper color. But the country
folk were certain that spring had come at last; and even the correct
and self-sustained Major Van Zandt came running in to announce to
Mistress Thankful that one of his men had seen a violet in the meadow.
In another moment Mistress Thankful had donned her cloak and pattens to
view this firstling of the laggard summer. It was quite natural that
Major Van Zandt should accompany her as she tripped on; and so, without
a thought of their past differences, they ran like very children down
the moist and rocky slope that led to the quaggy meadow. Such was the
influence of the vernal season.

But the violets were hidden. Mistress Thankful, regardless of the wet
leaves and her new gown, groped with her fingers among the withered
grasses. Major Van Zandt leaned against a bowlder, and watched her
with admiring eyes.

"You'll never find flowers that way," she said at last, looking up to
him impatiently. "Go down on your knees like an honest man. There are
some things in this world worth stooping for."

The major instantly dropped on his knees beside her. But at that
moment Mistress Thankful found her po