eel differently when she comes home."

"I won't have her crossed, Abigail. Was she crying when you left
her?"

"She will soon be quiet and go to sleep. I am going to make some
toast for her supper. Eben, where are you going?" The Squire had set
forth for the door in a determined rush.

"I am going to see that boy, and know what this work means," he
cried, in a loud voice of wrath and pity.

However, Abigail's vivacious persistency of common-sense usually
overcame her husband's clumsy headlongs of affection. She carried the
day at last, and the Squire subsided, though with growls of
remonstrance, like a partially tamed animal.

"Have your way, and send her down to Boston, if you want to,
Abigail," said he; "but when she comes back she shall have whatever
she wants, if I move heaven and earth to get it for her."

So that day week Jerome, going one morning to his work, stood aside
to let the stage-coach pass him, and had a glimpse of Lucina's fair
face in the wave of a blue veil at the window. She bowed, but the
stage dashed by in such a fury of dust that Jerome could scarcely
discern the tenor of the salutation. He thought that she smiled, and
not unhappily. "She is going away," he told himself; "she will go to
parties, and see other people, and forget me." He tried to dash the
bitterness of his heart at the thought, with the sweetness of
unselfish love, but it was hard. He plodded on to his work, the young
springiness gone from his back and limbs, his face sternly downcast.

As for Lucina, she was in reality leaving Upham not unhappily. She
was young, and the sniff of change is to the young as the smell of
powder to a war-horse. New fields present always wide ranges of
triumphant pleasure to youth.

Lucina, moreover, loved with girlish fervor the friend, Miss Rose
Soley, whom she was going to visit in Boston. She had not seen her
for some months, and she tasted in advance the sweets of mutual
confidences. That morning Jerome's face was a little confused in
Lucina's mind with that of a rosy-cheeked and dark-ringleted girl,
and young passion somewhat dimmed by gentle affection for one of her
own sex.

Then, too, Lucina had come, during the last few days, to a more
cheerful and hopeful view of the situation. After all, Jerome loved
her, and was not that the principal thing? Perhaps, in time, it would
all come right. Jerome might get rich; in the meantime, she was in no
hurry to be married and leave her parents