it.
"Shall I call for you to-morrow?" he asked. "We can get a good boat at
the river side."

"Thank you," answered Antony, "I will go."

"Cannot we go also?" enquired Rose.

Then Harry hesitated. He wanted Yanna to say something, and she said
nothing. That decided the question. "It is quite impossible, Rose," he
answered. "We are going on the river to fish--a little dirty boat, and
the blazing sun beating on the river--what pleasure could you have?"

"What pleasure can you have? I do not believe you are going a-fishing
at all. You are going a-talking, and we could help you;" then, turning
to Yanna, she asked: "When are you coming to Filmer again? Not for a
week? That will never do. I shall go against your brother if he parts
us for so long."

The last words were lost in the clatter of the horse's hoofs; and then
there was a sudden silence. For the mere idea of departing stops the
gayest conversation, makes the quietest person fidgety, the slowest,
in a hurry; and introduces something of melancholy, whether we will or
not. Perhaps, indeed, there is in every parting some dim foreshadowing
of the Great Parting, and the involuntary sigh, with which we turn
inward from a departing guest, is a sign from that language below the
threshold we so seldom try to understand.

The acquaintance thus pleasantly begun grew rapidly to something more
personal and familiar. Harry and Antony were constantly together; and
the young man from the west exercised that peculiar influence over the
city-bred man that a radical change in circumstances might have done.
Antony was a new kind of experience. Out on the river, or wandering
over the hills together, they had such confidences as drew them closer
than brothers. And this intimacy naturally strengthened those
tenderer intimacies from which, indeed, their own friendship received
its charm and crown.

For Harry soon fell into the habit of calling at Peter Van Hoosen's
house for Antony; and in such visits he saw Adriana constantly, under
the most charming and variable household aspects. It was early
morning, and she was training the vines, or dusting the room, or
creaming butter for a cake; but he thought her in every occupation
more beautiful than in the last one. Or the young men were returning
at night-fall from a day's outing, weary and hungry; and she made them
tea, and cut their bread and butter and cold beef; and such
occasions--no matter how frequently they occurred--were all se