hing better than the life
that means business?" she asked, she almost entreated. "Why should you
ever wish to go back to the world? If you could live in the country away
from society, and all its vanity and vexation of spirit, why wouldn't
you rather lead a literary life that didn't mean business?"

"But how? Are you proposing a public subscription, or a fairy
godmother?" asked Maxwell.

"No; merely the golden age. I'm just supposing the case," said Louise.
"You were born in Arcady, you know," she added, with a wistful smile.

"Arcady is a good place to emigrate from," said Maxwell, with a smile
that was not wistful. "It's like Vermont, where I was born, too. And if
I owned the whole of Arcady, I should have no use for it till I had seen
what the world had to offer. Then I might like it for a few months in
the summer."

"Yes," she sighed faintly, and suddenly she rose, and said, "I must go
and put the finishing touches. Good-by, Mr. Maxwell"--she mechanically
gave him her hand. "I hope you will soon be well enough to get back to
the world again."

"Thank you," he said, in surprise. "But the great trial you were going
to make of my patience, my docility--"

She caught away her hand. "Oh, that wasn't anything. I've decided not.
Good-by! Don't go through the empty form of coming back to the house
with me. I'll take your adieus to mamma." She put the cushion into the
hammock. "You had better stay and try to get a nap, and gather strength
for the battle of life as fast as you can."

She spoke so gayly and lightly, that Maxwell, with all his subtlety,
felt no other mood in her. He did not even notice, till afterwards, that
she had said nothing about their meeting again. He got into the hammock,
and after a while he drowsed, with a delicious, poetic sense of her
capricious charm, as she drifted back to the farmhouse, over the sloping
meadow. He visioned a future in which fame had given him courage to tell
her his love.

Mrs. Hilary knew from her daughter's face that something had happened;
but she knew also that it was not what she dreaded.

PART THIRD.

I.

Matt Hilary saw Pinney, and easily got at the truth of his hopes and
possibilities concerning Northwick. He found that the reporter really
expected to do little more than to find his man, and make a newspaper
sensation out of his discovery. He was willing to forego this in the
interest of Northwick's family, if it could be made worth his while;