e one
woman in the world to her lover. Though Richard had scant experience
in such matters, he was not wrong in accepting Margaret as the type
of a class of New England girls, which, fortunately for New England,
is not a small class. These young women for the most part lead quiet
and restricted lives so far as the actualities are concerned, but
very deep and full lives in the world of books and imagination, to
which they make early escapes. They have the high instincts that come
of good blood, the physique that naturally fits fine manners; and
when chance takes one of these maidens from her island country home
or from some sleepy town on the sea-board, and sets her amid the
complications of city existence, she is an unabashed and unassuming
lady. If in Paris, she differs from the Parisiennes only in the
greater delicacy of her lithe beauty, her innocence which is not
ignorance, and her French pronunciation; if in London, she differs
from English girls only in the matter of rosy cheeks and the rising
inflection. Should none of these fortunate transplantings befall her,
she always merits them by adorning with grace and industry and
intelligence the narrower sphere to which destiny has assigned her.

Destiny had assigned Margaret Slocum to a very narrow sphere; it
had shut her up in an obscure New England manufacturing village, with
no society, strictly speaking, and no outlets whatever to large
experiences. To her father's affection, Richard's friendship, and her
household duties she was forced to look for her happiness. If life
held wider possibilities for her, she had not dreamed of them. She
looked up to Richard with respect,--perhaps with a dash of sentiment
in the respect; there was something at once gentle and virile in his
character which she admired and leaned upon; in his presence the
small housekeeping troubles always slipped from her; but her heart,
to use a pretty French phrase, had not consciously spoken,--possibly
it had murmured a little, incoherently, to itself, but it had not
spoken out aloud, as perhaps it would have done long ago if an
impediment had been placed in the way of their intimacy. With all her
subtler intuitions, Margaret was as far as Richard from suspecting
the strength and direction of the current with which they were
drifting. Freedom, habit, and the nature of their environment
conspired to prolong this mutual lack of perception. The hour had
sounded, however, when these two were to see