be fevers there
in the autumn, with all the low lands that I'm allowed to flood Mrs.
Maynard told me about your plan."

"Pray, what else did Mrs. Maynard tell you about me?"

"About your taking up a profession, in the way you did, when you
needn't, and when you did n't particularly like it."

"Oh!" she said. Then she added, "And because I was n't obliged to it,
and did n't like it, you tolerated me?"

"Tolerated?" he echoed.

This vexed her. "Yes, tolerate! Everybody, interested or not, has to
make up his mind whether to tolerate me as soon as he hears what I am.
What excuse did you make for me?"

"I did n't make any," said Libby.

"But you had your misgiving, your surprise."

"I thought if you could stand it, other people might. I thought it was
your affair."

"Just as if I had been a young man?"

"No! That wasn't possible."

She was silent. Then, "The conversation has got back into the old
quarter," she said. "You are talking about me again. Have you heard from
your friends since they went away?"

"What friends?"

"Those you were camping with."

"No."

"What did they say when they heard that you had found a young doctress
at Jocelyn's? How did you break the fact to them? What jokes did they
make? You need n't be afraid to tell me!" she cried. "Give me Mr.
Johnson's comments."

He looked at her in surprise that incensed her still more, and rendered
her incapable of regarding the pain with which he answered her. "I 'm
afraid," he said, "that I have done something to offend you."

"Oh no! What could you have done?"

"Then you really mean to ask me whether I would let any one make a joke
of you in my presence?"

"Yes; why not?"

"Because it was impossible," he answered.

"Why was it impossible?" she pursued.

"Because--I love you."

She had been looking him defiantly in the eyes, and she could not
withdraw her gaze. For the endless moment that ensued, her breath was
taken away. Then she asked in a low, steady voice, "Did you mean to say
that?"

"No."

"I believe you, and I forgive you. No, no!" she cried, at a
demonstration of protest from him, "don't speak again!"

He obeyed, instantly, implicitly. With the tiller in his hand he looked
past her and guided the boat's course. It became intolerable.

"Have I ever done anything that gave you the right to--to--say that?"
she asked, without the self-command which she might have wished to show.

"No," he said, "you were only the most bea