arian had lost her mother in childhood; her father died
when she was eighteen. Since then she had lived alone with her aunt.
Her life was quiet and lonely. Esterbrook's companionship was all that
brightened it, but it was enough. Marian lavished on him all the rich,
womanly love of her heart. On her twenty-first birthday they were
formally betrothed. They were to be married in the following autumn.

No shadow had drifted across the heaven of her happiness. She believed
herself secure in her lover's unfaltering devotion. True, at times she
thought his manner lacked a lover's passionate ardour. He was always
attentive and courteous. She had only to utter a wish to find that it
had been anticipated; he spent every spare minute at her side.

Yet sometimes she half wished he would betray more lover-like
impatience and intensity. Were all lovers as calm and undemonstrative?

She reproached herself for this incipient disloyalty as often as it
vexingly intruded its unwelcome presence across her inner
consciousness. Surely Esterbrook was fond and devoted enough to
satisfy the most exacting demands of affection. Marian herself was
somewhat undemonstrative and reserved. Passing acquaintances called
her cold and proud. Only the privileged few knew the rich depths of
womanly tenderness in her nature.

Esterbrook thought that he fully appreciated her. As he had walked
homeward the night of their betrothal, he had reviewed with
unconscious criticism his mental catalogue of Marian's graces and good
qualities, admitting, with supreme satisfaction, that there was not
one thing about her that he could wish changed.

This afternoon, under the acacias, they had been planning about their
wedding. There was no one to consult but themselves.

They were to be married early in September and then go abroad.
Esterbrook mapped out the details of their bridal tour with careful
thoughtfulness. They would visit all the old-world places that Marian
wished to see. Afterwards they would come back home. He discussed
certain changes he wished to make in the old Elliott mansion to fit it
for a young and beautiful mistress.

He did most of the planning. Marian was content to listen in happy
silence. Afterwards she had proposed this walk to the Cove.

"What particular object of charity have you found at the Cove now?"
asked Esterbrook, with lazy interest, as they walked along.

"Mrs. Barrett's little Bessie is very ill with fever," answered
Marian.