s no
harbour or glimpse of distant sea visible. Had the hotel-keeper made a
mistake? Perhaps he had meant some other James Conway.

Presently he found himself before the blacksmith's forge. Beside it
was a rickety, unpainted gate opening into a snake-fenced lane
feathered here and there with scrubby little spruces. It ran down a
bare hill, crossed a little ravine full of young white-stemmed
birches, and up another bare hill to an equally bare crest where a
farmhouse was perched--a farmhouse painted a stark, staring yellow and
the ugliest thing in farmhouses that John Lincoln had ever seen, even
among the log shacks of the west. He knew now that he had been
misdirected, but as there seemed to be nobody about the forge he
concluded that he had better go to the yellow house and inquire
within. He passed down the lane and over the little rustic bridge that
spanned the brook. Just beyond was another home-made gate of poles.

Lincoln opened it, or rather he had his hand on the hasp of twisted
withes which secured it, when he was suddenly arrested by the
apparition of a girl, who flashed around the curve of young birch
beyond and stood before him with panting breath and quivering lips.

"I beg your pardon," said John Lincoln courteously, dropping the gate
and lifting his hat. "I am looking for the house of Mr. James
Conway--'The Evergreens.' Can you direct me to it?"

"That is Mr. James Conway's house," said the girl, with the tragic air
and tone of one driven to desperation and an impatient gesture of her
hand toward the yellow nightmare above them.

"I don't think he can be the one I mean," said Lincoln perplexedly.
"The man I am thinking of has a niece, Miss Richmond."

"There is no other James Conway in Plainfield," said the girl. "This
is his place--nobody calls it 'The Evergreens' but myself. I am Sidney
Richmond."

For a moment they looked at each other across the gate, sheer
amazement and bewilderment holding John Lincoln mute. Sidney, burning
with shame, saw that this stranger was exceedingly good to look
upon--tall, clean-limbed, broad-shouldered, with clear-cut bronzed
features and a chin and eyes that would have done honour to any man.
John Lincoln, among all his confused sensations, was aware that this
slim, agitated young creature before him was the loveliest thing he
ever had seen, so lithe was her figure, so glossy and dark and silken
her bare, wind-ruffled hair, so big and brown and appealing her eyes,