d Alida's story. He swore a little at the "mean cuss," the author
of all the trouble, and then took the stricken woman to what all his
acquaintances facetiously termed his "hotel."

Chapter XI.

Baffled

In the general consciousness Nature is regarded as feminine, and even
those who love her most will have to adopt Mrs. Mumpson's oft-expressed
opinion of the sex and admit that she is sometimes a "peculiar female."
During the month of March, in which our story opens, there was scarcely
any limit to her varying moods. It would almost appear that she was
taking a mysterious interest in Holcroft's affairs; but whether it was
a kindly interest or not, one might be at a loss to decide. When she
caught him away from home, she pelted him with the coldest of rain and
made his house, with even Mrs. Mumpson and Jane abiding there, seem a
refuge. In the morning after the day on which he had brought, or in a
sense had carted, Mrs. Wiggins to his domicile, Nature was evidently
bent on instituting contrasts between herself and the rival phases of
femininity with which the farmer was compelled to associate. It may
have been that she had another motive and was determined to keep her
humble worshiper at her feet, and to render it impossible for him to
make the changes toward which he had felt himself driven.

Being an early riser he was up with the sun, and the sun rose so
serenely and smiled so benignly that Holcroft's clouded brow cleared in
spite of all that had happened or could take place. The rain, which
had brought such discomfort the night before, had settled the ground
and made it comparatively firm to his tread. The southern breeze which
fanned his cheek was as soft as the air of May. He remembered that it
was Sunday, and that beyond feeding his stock and milking, he would
have nothing to do. He exulted in the unusual mildness and thought,
with an immense sense of relief, "I can stay outdoors nearly all day."
He resolved to let his help kindle the fire and get breakfast as they
could, and to keep out of their way. Whatever changes the future might
bring, he would have one more long day in rambling about his fields and
in thinking over the past. Feeling that there need be no haste about
anything, he leisurely inhaled the air, fragrant from springing grass,
and listened with a vague, undefined pleasure to the ecstatic music of
the bluebirds, song-sparrows, and robins. If anyone had asked him why
he liked to he