red the woman's soul
beneath the surface shallows and set the sordid tasks of daily living in
tune with the music that sways the world.

[Sidenote: "Un-marriage"]

"There's a good deal in the papers about un-marriage, too," resumed Miss
Mattie, "and I can't understand it. When you've stood before the altar
and said 'till death do us part,' I don't see how another man, who ain't
even a minister, can undo it and let you have another chance at it.
Maybe you do, bein' as you're up in law, but I don't.

"It looks to me as if the laws were wrong or else the marriage ceremony
ought to be written different. If a man said, 'I take thee to be my
wedded wife, to love and to cherish until I see somebody else I like
better,' I could understand the un-marriage, but I can't now. When you
get to be a power in the law, Roger, I think you should try to get that
fixed. I never was welded, but after I'd given my word, I stuck to it,
even though your pa was dreadful aggravatin' sometimes. He didn't mean
to be, but he was. I guess it's the nature of men folks."

Deeply moved, Roger went over and kissed her smooth cheek. "Have I been
aggravating, Mother?"

Miss Mattie's eyes grew misty. She took off her spectacles and wiped
them briskly on one corner of the table-cover. "No more'n was natural,
I guess," she answered. "You've been a good boy, Roger, and I want you
should be a good man. When you get away from home, where your mother
can't look after you, just remember that she expects you to be good,
like your pa. He might have been aggravatin', but he wasn't wicked."

[Sidenote: Remember]

All the best part of the boy's nature rose in answer, and the mist came
into his eyes, too. "I'll remember, Mother, and you shall never be
disappointed in me--I promise you that."

XXII

Autumn Leaves

[Sidenote: Autumn Glory]

Summer had gone long ago, but the sweetness of her passing yet lay upon
the land and sea. The hills were glorious with a pageantry of scarlet
and gold where, in the midnight silences, the soul of the woods had
flamed in answer to the far, mysterious bugles of the frost. Bloom was
on the grapes in the vineyard, and fairy lace, of cobweb fineness, had
been hung by the secret spinners from stem to stem of the purple
clusters and across bits of stubble in the field.

From the blue sea, now and then, came the breath of Winter, though
Autumn lingered on the shore. Many of the people at the hotel had gone
back to town