like a plea for
pity than an expression of thanks. When the services were ended, and
all rising joined in "The Sweet By and By," never before had it voiced
such a plaintive appeal as it did then in Winn's estimation.

When he and Mona, loitering behind the rest, reached her little dooryard
where the scent of many blooming flowers saluted him, they paused a
moment. Mrs. Moore had seated herself on the porch for a social chat
with Mrs. Hutton, the faint disk of a new moon showed in the western
sky, and in spite of the resolution taken weeks before, Winn could not
resist the temptation of longer privacy with his companion.

"Let us walk up to the top of Norse Hill," he said, "and look out over
the harbor. I feel like it to-night."

"Here is where I come to be alone," he observed when they had reached
the ancient beacon and were looking down over the village. "I wonder who
built this odd tower and for what use; do you know?"

"I have been told it was built by Leif Ericson," she replied, "ever so
many years ago, to prove he first discovered this country. Uncle Jess
says it was, and that is why this is called Norse Hill."

There was a jutting ledge around its base, and they seated themselves
upon it. Winn drew out his cigar case. "You won't mind my smoking, will
you, Mona?" he said in a familiar tone, as he lighted his cigar.

"Why, no," she answered, in the same tone, "I love to see you enjoy
yourself."

For a time they silently scanned the peaceful picture that lay before
them. The sheltered harbor across which the faint path of moonlight
quivered in the undulating ground swell that reached in from the sea;
the old mill sombre and solemn and barely outlined to the right; beyond
it Northaven with its scattered lights, and below them the few that
twinkled in Rockhaven. Not a sound reached them except the low wave-wash
at the foot of the cliff just back of where they sat. They were alone
with their hopes and troubles, their joys and heartaches. It was not a
time or place for immediate converse, and Winn quietly contemplated the
peaceful scene while Mona covertly watched him. To her he was an
unsolved enigma, and yet his earnest, honest brown eyes, his open, frank
way, and his half-tender, half-cynical speeches had been for many weeks
her daily thought. What oppressed him now was an added mystery. She had
heard that most of his men working in the quarry had been laid off, but
not for worlds would she seem so inquisitive