s feelings. She had always
been kind and gentle and loving to him, just as a sister might have been.
She was exceedingly young yet. Did she know, could she understand what it
meant to be loved the way he was sure he could love a woman? And would she
ever be able to love him in that way? She was so silent and shy he hardly
knew whether she cared for him or not. But there was one thought that gave
him unbounded joy and that was that she was his wife. At least no one else
could take her from him. He had felt condemned that he had married her
when his heart was heavy lest she would lose the joy of life, but all that
was changed now. Unless she loved some one else surely such love as his
could compel hers and finally make her as happy as a woman could be made.

A twinge of misgiving crossed his mind as he admitted the possibility that
Marcia might love some one else. True, he knew of no one, and she was so
young it was scarcely likely she had left any one back in her girlhood to
whom her heart had turned when she was out of his sight. Still there were
instances of strong union of hearts of those who had loved from early
childhood. It might be that Marcia's sometime-sadness was over a companion
of her girlhood.

A great longing took possession of him to rush up and waken her and find
out if she could ever care for him. He scarcely knew himself. This was not
his dignified contained self that he had lived with for twenty-seven
years.

It was very late before he finally went upstairs. He walked softly lest he
disturb Marcia. He paused before her door listening to see if she was
asleep, but there was only the sound of the katydids in the branches
outside her window, and the distant tree-toads singing a fugue in an
orchard not far away. He tiptoed to his room but he did not light his
candle, therefore there was no light in the back room of the Spafford
house that night for any watching eyes to ponder over. He threw himself
upon the bed. He was weary in body yet his soul seemed buoyant as a bird
in the morning air. The moon was casting long bars of silver across the
rag carpet and white counterpane. It was almost full moon. Yes, to-morrow
it would be entirely full. It was full moon the night he had met Marcia
down by the gate, and kissed her. It was the first time he had thought of
that kiss with anything but pain. It used to hurt him that he had made the
mistake and taken her for Kate. It had seemed like an ill-omen of what was