," replied the deacon, "but it doesn't apply
here. Don't you worry, Honora. There's no man about here that will worry
you, and even if there was, hold fast to that which is given thee...."

"Don't quote Scripture, Reverend Sir," cried Mona angrily.

"The besotted world is not worth the pother this foolish young married
woman makes over it."

The foolish young woman received a warning from her brother when Mona
went into the woods to gather an armful of wild blossoms for the boat.

"Don't you know," said he with the positiveness of a young theologian,
"that Arthur will probably never marry? Has he looked at a girl in that
way since he came back from California? He's giddy enough, I know, but
one that studies him can see he has no intention of marrying. Now why do
you trouble this poor girl, after her scene with the Englishman, with
hints of Arthur? I tell you he will never marry."

"You may know more about him than I do," his sister placidly answered,
"but I have seen him looking at Honora for the last five years, and
working for her, and thinking about her. His look changed recently.
Perhaps you know why. There's something in the air. I can feel it. You
can't. None of you celibates can. And you can't see beyond your books in
matters of love and marriage. That's quite right. We can manage such
things better. And if Arthur makes up his mind to win her, I'm bound
she shall have him."

"We can manage! I'm bound!" he mimicked. "Well, remember that I warned
you. It isn't so much that your fingers may be burned ... that's what
you need, you married minx. You may do harm to those two. They seem to
be at peace. Let 'em alone."

"What was the baby doing when you left the house?" said she for answer.

"Tearing the nurse's hair out in handfuls," said the proud uncle, as he
plunged into a list of the doings of the wonderful child, who fitted
into any conversation as neatly as a preposition.

Mona, grew sad at heart. Her brother evidently knew of some obstacle to
this union, something in Arthur's past life which made his marriage with
any woman impossible. She recalled his silence about the California
episode, his indifference to women, his lack of enthusiasm as to
marriage.

They rowed away over the lake, with the boat half buried in wild bushes,
sprinkled with dandelion flowers and the tender blossoms of the apple
trees. Honora was happy, at peace. She put the scene with Lord
Constantine away from her, and forgot the lig