t fitted. If there was little hope on her side there
seemed even less on his. His mother's mental illness made her peculiarly
dependent upon him, and at the same time held him in such strict bondage
that it was almost impossible for him to get on in the world or even to
give her the comforts she needed. In villages like Riverboro in those
early days there was no putting away, even of men or women so demented
as to be something of a menace to the peace of the household; but Lois
Boynton was so gentle, so fragile, so exquisite a spirit, that she
seemed in her sad aloofness simply a thing to be sheltered and shielded
somehow in her difficult life journey. Ivory often thought how sorely
she needed a daughter in her affliction. If the baby sister had only
lived, the home might have been different; but alas! there was only a
son,--a son who tried to be tender and sympathetic, but after all was
nothing but a big, clumsy, uncomprehending man-creature, who ought to
be felling trees, ploughing, sowing, reaping, or at least studying law,
making his own fortune and that of some future wife. Old Mrs. Mason, a
garrulous, good-hearted grandame, was their only near neighbor, and her
visits always left his mother worse rather than better. How such a girl
as Waitstill would pour comfort and beauty and joy into a lonely house
like his, if only he were weak enough to call upon her strength and put
it to so cruel a test. God help him, he would never do that, especially
as he could not earn enough to keep a larger family, bound down as he
was by inexorable responsibilities. Waitstill, thus far in life, had
suffered many sorrows and enjoyed few pleasures; marriage ought to bring
her freedom and plenty, not carking care and poverty. He stole long
looks at the girl across the separating space that was so helpless to
separate,--feeding his starved heart upon her womanly graces. Her quick,
springing step was in harmony with the fire and courage of her
mien. There was a line or two in her face,--small wonder; but an
"unconquerable soul" shone in her eyes; shone, too, in no uncertain
way, but brightly and steadily, expressing an unshaken joy in living.
Valiant, splendid, indomitable Waitstill! He could never tell her, alas!
but how he gloried in her!

It is needless to say that no woman could be the possessor of such a
love as Ivory Boynton's and not know of its existence. Waitstill never
heard a breath of it from Ivory's lips; even his eyes were un