ter as Anthy--I mean such a _truly_ great character."

He paused, looking at me intensely. If I had known that the next moment
was to be my last I should still have laughed, laughed irresistibly. It
was the moment when the high mood became unbearable. Moreover, I had a
sudden vision of Anthy herself, in her long gingham apron, going
sensibly, cheerfully, about the printing-office, a stick of type in her
hand, and, very likely, a smudge of printer's ink on her nose! Why do
such visions smite us at our most solemn moments? Nort was taken aback
at my laughter, and evidently provoked.

"I couldn't help it, Nort," I said. "I wonder if Anthy herself wouldn't
laugh if she were to hear you say such things."

"That's so," said Nort. "She _would_. I've never known any one, man or
woman, who had such a keen sense of humour as Anthy has."

"Sensible, too, Nort----"

"Sensible!" he exclaimed. "I should rather say so! I have never seen any
one in my life who was as sensible--I mean _sound_ and _wise_--as Anthy
is."

Two months before, Nort himself would have been the first to laugh at
such a situation as this: he would have laughed at himself, at me, and
even at Anthy, but now he was in no such mood. I prize the memory of
that moment; it was one of those rare times in life when it is given us
to see a human spirit at the moment of its greatest truth, simplicity,
passion. And is it not a worthy moment when everything that is selfish
in a human heart is consumed in the white heat of a great emotion?

Toward noon, when Harriet came in, greatly astonished to find a visitor
with me, Nort quite shocked her by jumping up from his chair and seizing
her by both hands.

"I'm terribly glad to see you, Miss Grayson," he said.

During dinner he seemed unable to tell whether he was eating chicken or
pie, and no sooner were we through than he insisted upon hurrying away.
He pledged me to secrecy concerning his whereabouts, but left his
address.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXVII

FERGUS MACGREGOR GOES TO THE HILLS

I think of no act in all the drama of the _Star_ of Hempfield with
greater affection, return in memory to none with deeper pleasure, than
that which now opened upon the narrow stage of our village life. It
centred around Nort and Anthy, of course, but it began with the old
Captain, and about a week after Nort's visit at the farm.

The old Captain was sick in bed with one of his periodical "attacks."
The old Captain