te--but my
daughter has changed greatly since then, and I have lately indulged a
hope together with my wife that we might throw open our home to
you--ahem--you understand."

"We can settle it today," said Lyman. "I believe you told me once that
I ought to go away, or sent some word of that sort, I don't remember
which, and I am now ready to take your advice."

The banker sighed, and they walked along in silence until they came to
the gate of Eva's home.

"Walk in," said McElwin.

They stepped upon the veranda and Lyman saw Eva sitting in the parlor.
She came running to meet him, forgetful of everything--came running
with her hands held out.

"He has come to sign the petition," said the banker in a dry voice.
"Where is your mother?"

She drew back. "In the garden I think," she answered.

"I will go after her," said McElwin.

He walked away, heavy of foot. Eva turned to Lyman and asked him to
sit down. He did so, and she remained standing. It reminded him of the
night when they had met at the lantern picnic, only their position now
were reversed, for then he had remained standing while she sat
looking up at him. He took up a volume of Tennyson and opened it, and
between the pages in front of him lay a faded clover bloom.

"A memory?" he asked, looking at her.

"Yes, a beautiful memory. Some one plucked it, threw it up and it fell
in my lap--one day at the creek."

He looked at her searchingly. They heard McElwin in the garden calling
his wife, "Lucy, oh, Lucy. Where are you?"

"Eva, I have not been honorable with you--I have held you not as a
protector--I have held you selfishly--I love you."

"Lucy, where are you?" the banker called.

"I have not dared to hope that you could love me--I'm old and ugly.
But I worshipped you and I can not set you free. I told your father
that I would come to sign the paper, and I spoke sarcastically to him,
but I will beg his pardon, for I honor him."

"Lucy, come here, quick!" the banker shouted in the garden.

"You did not think I could love you," she said, looking at him
frankly, her eyes full of surprise and happiness; "you did not know
me. I told my mother that with you life would be joyous in a shanty.
Oh, my husband."

He got up quietly, the tears streaming down his face--he held out his
arms.

* * * * *

"Lucy, he has come to sign the paper."

They were standing in the garden walk. She was almost breathless,
having run to me