She had digged a pitfall for her own occupation; and of all
comfortless and stony places, such pitfalls as this make the hardest
lying.

Out in the narrow hall, on its own particular peg, hung Mell's white
sun-bonnet. She took it down and put it on her head, and walked slowly
to the top of the hill. With no intention of going to the meadow
herself, her feelings demanded that she should find out if Jerome was
there.

He was, strolling moodily to and fro, in deep thought.

He knows now. Rube has told him. He despises her to-day, and yesterday
he had loved her. Look at him down there in the meadow! a beam from
the sun, a breath from the hills, a part of the morning, the most
glorious expression of nature in all nature's glory! Observe how he
walks! Note how he stands still! Most men know how to walk, and most
men know how to stand still, after a fashion; but not after Jerome's
fashion. In motion, Jerome is a poem set a-going; standing still, he
is grace doing nothing. He can lift one hand, and in that ordinary act
sow the seed of a dozen beautiful fancies; he can wield such mastery
over the physical forces of expression as has wondrous potency to sway
the emotions of others.

So she thought; so she stood, hidden herself from sight, but with the
meadow in full view; and while so thinking, and so standing, drinking
him in with every breath, feeding upon him with her eyes, devouring
him with her soul, she, the affianced wife of another!

Oh, wicked Mell!

Jerome grows impatient; he looks at his watch, and turns inquiringly
towards the hill; and Mell flies back to the house as if pursued by
fiery dragons. For if he but caught sight of her, if he but crooked
his finger at her, she would go down there, and then--what then?

Mell was not blind to her own weakness. The afternoon brought Rube,
overwhelmingly happy, overwhelmingly devoted. She must take an airing
with him in his brand new buggy; and while they scoured the country
round about, Rube was making diligent inquiry as to how soon they
might get married. Mell caught her breath, and, in the same breath, at
a possible reprieve.

"Won't you give me a little time to think?" she pleaded. "It has come
so sudden!"

"Hasn't it, though!" cried happy Rube. "Do you half realize the romance
of the thing, Mellville? 'Tis like a page out of Knight-Errantry, the
days of lances and standards, and blood-thrilling adventures, when
warriors in steel swore by the Holy-rood, and wo