The House of Martha

XXIX.

FANTASY ?

WE reached Captain Jabe’s house a little after nightfall, and received a hearty welcome and a good supper from his wife. Walkirk and I slept on board the floating grocery, as also did Abner ; that is to say, if he slept at all, for he and the captain were busy at the house when we retired. The quilting party, we were informed, was expected to be a grand affair, provided, of course, there were no signs of rain ; for country people are not expected to venture out for pleasure in rainy weather.

Captain Jabe’s house, as we saw it the next morning, was a good-sized waterside farmhouse, wide-spreading and low-roofed. The place had a sort of amphibious appearance, as if depending for its maintenance equally upon the land and the water. The house stood a little distance back from the narrow beach, and in its front yard a net was hung .to dry and to be mended ; a small boat, in course of repair, lay upon some rude stocks, while bits of chain, an old anchor, several broken oars, and other nautical accessories were scattered here and there.

At the back of the house, however, there was nothing about the barn, the cow-yard, the chicken - yard, and the haystacks to indicate that Captain Jabe was anything more than a thrifty smallfarmer. But, farmer and sailor as he was, Captain Jabe was none the less a grocer, and I think to this avocation he gave his chief attention.

He took me into a small room by the side of his kitchen, and showed me what he called his “ sin kin’ fund stock.”

“Here, ye see, said he, “ is canned fruit and wegetables, smoked and salted meat and fish, cheeses, biscuits, and a lot of other things that will keep. None °t these is this year’s goods. Some of them have been left over from last year, some from the year before that, and some is still older. Whenever I git a little short, I put a lot of these goods on board and sell ’em with the discount off, twenty per cent for last year’s stock, forty per cent off for the year before that, and so on back. So, ye see, if I have got anythin’ on hand that is five years old, I am bound to give it away for nothin’, if I stick to my principles. At fust me and my old woman tried eatin’ what was left over; but discount is n’t no good to her, and she wants the best victuals that is goin’. Did ye ever think, sir, what this world would be without canned victuals ? ”

I assured him that I never had, but would try to do so if possible.

The day proved to be a very fine one, and early in the afternoon the people invited to the quilting party began to arrive, and by two o’clock the affair was in full swing. The quilting frame was set up in a large chamber at the right of the parlor, the “ comfortable ” to be quilted was stretched upon it, and at the four sides sat as many matrons and elderly maidens as could crowd together, each with needle in hand. Long cords rubbed with chalk were snapped upon the surface of the quilt, to mark out the lines to be stitched ; wax, thread, and scissors were passed from one to another ; and every woman began to sew and to talk as fast as she could.

I stood in the doorway and watched this scene with considerable interest, for I had never before seen anything of the kind. The quilting ladies, to every one of whom I had been presented, cordially invited me to enter and take a seat with them; some of the more facetious offering to vacate their places in my favor, and, more than that, to show’ me how to thread and use a needle. I found from their remarks that it was rather an unusual thing for a man to take an interest in this part of the proceedings at a quilting party.

After a time I went into the parlor, which room was then occupied by the young men and young women. It was ever so much pleasanter out-of-doors than in this somewhat gloomy and decidedly stuffy parlor; but as these people were guests at a quilting party, they knew it was proper to enjoy themselves within the house to which they had been invited.

The young folks were not nearly so lively and animated as their elders in the next room, but they had just begun to play a game which could be played in the house, and in which every one could participate, and as the afternoon wore on they would doubtless become warmed up. Walkirk was making the best of it, and had entered the game; but I declined all invitations to do so.

Before long there was some laughing and a good deal of romping, and I fancied that the girls, some of whom were not at all bad looking, would have been pleased if I had joined in the sport. But this did not suit me ; I still was, as I declared myself, a Lover in Check, and the society of young women was not attractive to me.

I went outside, where a group of elderly men w’ere discussing the tax rates ; and after remaining a few minutes with them, I came to the conclusion that the pleasantest thing I could do would be to take a stroll over the country.

I made my way over some rolling meadow land, where three or four of Captain Jabe’s cows were carefully selecting the edible portions of the herbage, and, having passed the crest of a rounded hill, I found myself on the edge of a piece of woodland, which seemed to be of considerable extent. This suited my mood exactly, and I was soon following the curves and bends of a rude roadway, in places almost overgrown by vines and bushes, which led me deeper and deeper into the shadowed recesses of the woods. It was now about four o’clock in the afternoon. The sun was still well up, and out in the open the day was warm for an up-and-down-hill stroll ; but here in the woods it was cool and quiet, and the air was full of the pleasant summer smells that come from the trees, the leaves, and the very earth of the woods.

It was not long before I came upon a stream of a character that somewhat surprised me. It was not very wide, for at this spot the trees met above it, darkening its waters with their quivering shadows; but it was evidently deep, much deeper than the woodland streams of its size to which I had been accustomed. I would have liked to cross it and continue my walk, but I saw no way of getting over. With a broken branch I sounded the water near the shore, and found it over two feet deep ; and as it was no doubt deeper toward the middle, I gave up the idea of reaching the other side. But as I had no particular reason for getting over, especially as I should be obliged to get back again, I contented myself easily with my present situation, and, taking a seat on the upheaved root of a large tree, I lighted a cigar, and gave myself up to the delights of this charming solitude. I was glad to be away from everybody, even from Walkirk, the companion I had chosen for my summer journey.

There were insects gently buzzing in the soft summer air; on the other side of the stream, in a spot unshadowed by the trees, the water was sparkling in the sunlight, and every little puff of the fitful breeze brought to me the smell of wild grapes, from vines which hung from the trees so low that they almost touched the water. It was very still in these woods. I heard nothing but the gently rustling leaves, the faint buzzing in the air, and an occasional tiny splash made by some small fish skimming near the surface of the stream. When I sat down on the root of the tree, I intended to think, reflect, make plans, determine what I should do next; but I did nothing of the sort. I simply sat and drank in the loveliness of this woodland scene.

The stream curved away from me on either hand, and the short stretch of it which I could see to the left seemed to come out of the very heart of the woods. Suddenly I heard in this direction a faint regular sound in the water, as if some animal were swimming. I could not see anything, but as the sounds grew stronger I knew that it must be approaching. I did not know much of the aquatic animals in this region ; perhaps it might be an otter, a muskrat, I knew not what. But, whatever it was, I wanted to see it, and, putting down my cigar, I slipped softly behind the tree at whose foot I had been sitting.

Now the swimming object was in view, coming rapidly toward me down the middle of the stream. There was but little of it above the water, and the shadows were so heavy that I could see nothing but a dark point, with a bright ripple glancing away from it on either side. Nearer and nearer it came into the better lighted portion of the stream. It was not a small animal. The ripples it made were strong, and ran out in long lines ; its strokes were vigorous; the head that I saw grew larger and larger. Steadily it came on ; it reached the spot in the clear light of the sun It was the head of a human swimmer. On the side nearest me, I could see, under the water, the strokes of a dark-clad arm. Above the water was only a face, turned toward me and upward. A mass of long hair swept away from it, its blue eyes gazed dreamily into the treetops ; for a moment the sunbeams touched its features. My heart stopped beating, — it was the face of Sylvia.

Another stroke and it had passed into the shadow. The silvery ripples came from it to me, losing themselves against the shore. It passed on and on, away from me. I made one step from behind the tree; then suddenly stopped. On went the head and upturned face, touched once more by a gleam of light, and then it disappeared around a little bluff crowned with a mass of shrubbery and vines. I listened, breathless ; the sounds of the strokes died away. All was still again.

For some minutes I stood, bewildered, dazed, doubting whether I had been awake or dreaming. My mind could not grasp what had happened, — even my imagination could not help me. But one thing I knew : whether this had all been real, or whether it had been a dream, I had seen the face of Sylvia. This I knew as I knew I lived.

Slowly I came away, scarcely knowing how I walked or where I emerged from the woods, and crossed the open country to the house of Captain Jabe.

XXX.

A DISCOVERY.

I found the quilting party at supper. I could see them through the open windows of the large living-room, and I heard their chatter and laughing when I was still a considerable distance from the house. With my mind quivering with the emotions excited by what had happened in the woods, it was impossible for me to join a party like this. I walked around the barn and into a little orchard, where, between two gnarled apple-trees, there hung an old hammock, into which I threw myself.

There I lay, piling conjecture and supposition high upon each other ; but not at all could I conjecture how it was that the face which I had last seen in my own home, under the gray bonnet of a sister of Martha, should flash upon my vision in this far-away spot, and from the surface of a woodland stream.

It was growing dusky, when I heard a loud whistle, and my name was called. I whistled in return, and in a few moments Walkirk came running to me.

“ I was beginning to get frightened,” he said. “I have been looking everywhere for you. We have had supper, and the party is breaking up. There is no moon to-night, and the people must start early for their homes.”

“ Let them all get away,” I replied; “ and when they are entirely out of sight and hearing let me know, and I ’ll go in to supper.”

“ I am afraid,” said Walkirk, hesitating, “ that they will not like that. You know these country people are very particular about leave - taking, and all that sort of thing.”

“I can’t help it,” I answered. “I don’t feel at all like seeing people at present. You can go and bid them good-by in my name.”

“As an understudy? ” said he, smiling. “ Well, if I can tell them you are out of condition and not feeling like yourself, that will make it all right, and will also explain why you kept yourself away all the afternoon. " With this he left me, promising to return when the guests had departed. It was a long time before he came back, and it was then really dark.

“ Your supper is awaiting you,” he announced, “ and I am afraid that Mrs. Jabe is contemplating a hot footbath and some sort of herb tea; and we ought to turn in pretty early to-night, for Captain Jabe has announced that he will sail between four and five o’clock in the morning.”

“ Walkirk,” said I, sitting up in the hammock, “ I have no intention of sailing to-morrow. I prefer to stay here for a time ; I don’t know for how long.”

“Stay here!” exclaimed Walkirk. “ What on earth can you do here ? W hat possible attraction can this place have ? ”

“ My good Walkirk,” I said, rising and walking toward the house, “ I am here, and here I want to stay. Reasons are the most awkward things in the world. They seldom fit; let us drop them. Perhaps, if Captain and Mrs. Jabe think I did not treat their company with proper courtesy, they may feel that I am making amends by desiring to stay with them. Any way, I am going to stay.”

Captain Jabe and his wife were very much surprised when I announced my intention of remaining at their place for a day or two longer, but, as I had surmised, they were also flattered.

“ This is a quiet place,” said the captain, “but as ye ain’t very well, and seem to like to keep to yerself, I don’t see why it should n’t suit ye. There ’s plenty o’ good air, and fishin’ if ye want it, and we can accommodate ye and give ye plenty to eat. I shall be back tomorrow night, and expect to stay home over Sunday myself.”

Walkirk was very much dissatisfied, and made a strong attempt to turn me from my purpose. “ If you intend to do anything in regard to Miss Raynor,” he said, “ I really think you ought to get home as soon as you can. Mother Anastasia is now having everything her own way, you know.”

“ Walkirk,”said I, “you blow hot and cold. If it had not been for you, I should be home this minute; but you dissuaded me from a hot chase after Mother Anastasia, and now my ardor for the chase has cooled, and I am quite inclined to let that sport wait.”

Walkirk looked at me inquiringly. It was evident that he did not understand my mood.

The next morning I found myself in a quandary. I had determined to make a long tramp inland, and if necessary to ford or swim streams, and I could not determine whether or not it would be wise to take Walkirk with me. I concluded at last to take him ; it would be awkward to leave him behind, and he might be of use. We provided ourselves with fishing rods and tackle and two pairs of wading-boots, as well as with a luncheon basket, well filled by Mrs. Jabe, and started on our expedition. I felt in remarkably good spirits.

I had formed no acceptable hypothesis in regard to what I had seen the day before, but I was going to do something better than that: I was going to find out if what had occurred could possibly be real and actual. If I should be convinced that this was impossible, then I intended to accept the whole affair as a dream which had taken place during an unconscious nap.

When we reached the woodland stream, Walkirk gazed about him with satisfaction. “ This looks like sport,” he said. “ I see no reason why there should not be good fishing in this creek. I did not suppose we should find such pleasant woods and so fine a stream in Captain Jabe’s neighborhood.”

“You must know,” said I, “that I have a talent for exploration and discovery. Had it not been for this stream, I should not have thought of such a thing as allowing Captain Jabe and Abner to sail off by themselves this morning.”

“Really,”replied Walkirk, “you care much more for angling than I supposed.”

Truly I cared very little for angling, but I had discovered that Walkirk was an indefatigable and patient fisherman. I had intended that he should cross the stream with me, but it now occurred to me that it would be far better to let him stay on this side, while I pursued my researches alone. Accordingly I proposed that he should fish in the part of the stream which I had seen the day before, while I pressed on farther. “In this way,” I remarked artfully, “we shall not interfere with each other.” Had I supposed that there was the slightest possibility of the appearance on the stream of the apparition of the day before, I should have requested Walkirk to fish from the top of a distant tree. But I had no fears on this score. If what I had seen had been a phantasm, my understudy would have to doze to see it, and I knew he would not do that; and if what I had seen was real, it would not appear this morning, for the water was too low for swimming. The creek, as I now perceived, was affected by the tide, and its depth was very much less than on the preceding afternoon.

I t urned to the right, and followed the stream for some distance; now walking by its edge, and now obliged, by masses of undergrowth, to make a detour into the woods. At last I came to a spot where the stream, although wide, appeared shallow. In fact, even in the centre I could see the stones at the bottom. I therefore put on my wadingboots and boldly crossed. The woods here were mostly of pine, free from undergrowth, and with the ground softened to the foot by a thick layer of pine needles.

Now that I was on the other side of the creek, I desired to make my way out of the woods, which could not, I imagined, be very extensive. To discover a real basis for yesterday’s vision, I believed that it would be necessary to reach open country. Leaving the stream behind me, it was not long before I came to a rude pathway ; and although this seemed to follow the general direction of the creek, I determined to turn aside from the course I was taking and follow it. After walking for nearly a mile, sometimes seeing the waters of the stream, and sometimes entirely losing sight of them, I found the path making an abrupt turn, and in a few minutes was out of the woods.

The country before me was very much like that about Captain Jabe’s residence. There were low rolling hills covered with coarse grass and ragged shrubbery, with here and there a cluster of trees. Not a sign of human habitation was in sight. Reaching the top of a small hill, I saw at my right, and not very far before me, a wide expanse of water. This I concluded must be the bay, although I had not expected to see it in this direction.

I went down the hill toward the shore. “ If what I seek is in reality,” I said to myself, “it will naturally love to live somewhere near the water. " Near the beach I struck a path again, and this I followed, my mind greatly agitated by the thoughts of what I might discover, as well as by the fear that I might discover nothing.

After a walk of perhaps a quarter of an hour I stopped suddenly. I had discovered something. I looked about me, utterly amazed. I was on the little beach which the Sand Lady had assigned to Walkirk and me as a camping ground.

I sat down, vainly endeavoring to comprehend the situation. Out of the mass of wild suppositions and conjectures which crowded themselves into my mind there came but one conviction, and with that I was satisfied: Sylvia was here.

It mattered not that the Sand Lady had said that hers was the only house upon the island; it mattered not that Captain Jabe had said nothing of his neighbor; in truth, nothing mattered. One sister of the House of Martha had come to this place; why not another ? What I had seen in the woods had been no fantasy. Sylvia was here.

XXXI.

TAKING UP UNFINISHED WORK.

My reasons for believing that Sylvia was on this island were circumstantial, it is true, but to me they were entirely conclusive, and the vehement desire of my soul was to hasten to the house and ask to see her. But I did not feel at all sure that this would be the right thing to do. The circumstances of this case were unusual. Sylvia was a sister of a religious house. It was not customary for gentlemen to call upon such sisters, and the lady who was the temporary custodian of this one might resent such an attempt.

It was, however, impossible for me entirely to restrain my impulses, and without knowing exactly what I intended to do I advanced toward the house. Very soon I saw its chimneys above the trees which partly surrounded it. Then, peeping under cover of a thicket, I went still nearer, so that, if there had been any people in the surrounding grounds, I could have seen them ; but I saw no one, and I sat down on a log and waited. It shamed me to think that I was secretly watching a house, but despite the shame I continued to sit and watch.

There was the flutter of drapery on a little porch. My heart beat quickly, my eyes were fixed upon the spot; but nothing appeared except a maid who brought out some towels, which she hung on a bush to dry. Then again I watched and watched.

After a time four people came out from the house, two of them carrying colored parasols. I knew them instantly. There was the Middle-Aged Man of the Sea, and his friend the Shell Man ; and there was the Sand Lady, and my enemy who called herself a Person. They went off toward the little pier. Sylvia was not with them, nor did she join them. They entered their boat and sailed away. They were going fishing, as was their custom. The fact that Sylvia was not with them, and that no one of them had stayed behind to keep her company, caused my heart to fall. In cases like mine, it takes very little to make the heart fall. The thought forced itself into my mind that perhaps, after all, I had seen a vision, and had been building theories on dreams.

Suddenly the shutter of an upper window opened, and I saw Sylvia !

It was truly Sylvia. She was dressed in white, not gray. Her hair was massed upon her head. There was no gray bonnet. She looked up at the sky, then at the trees, and withdrew.

My heart was beating as fast as it pleased. My face was glowing, and shame had been annihilated. I sat and watched. Presently a door opened, and Sylvia came out.

Now I rose to my feet. I must go to her. It might not be honorable to take her at this disadvantage, but there are moments when even honor must wait for a decision upon its case. However, there was no necessity for my going to Sylvia ; she was coming to me.

As she walked directly to the spot where I stood, I saw Sylvia as I had seen her in my day-dreams, — a beautiful girl, dressed as a beautiful girl should dress in summer time. In one hand she carried a portfolio, in the other a little leathern case. As she came nearer, I saw that she was attired exactly as Mother Anastasia had been dressed when I met her here. Nearer she came, but still she did not see me. I was not now concealed, but her eyes seemed fixed upon the path in which she was walking.

When she was within a hundred feet of the thicket through which her path would lead, I advanced to meet her. I tried to appear cool and composed, but I am afraid my success was slight. As for Sylvia, she stopped abruptly, and dropped her leathern case. I think that at first she did not recognize me, and was on the point of screaming. Suddenly to come upon a man in the midst of these solitudes was indeed startling.

Quickly, however, I made myself known, and her expression of fright changed to one of amazement. I am happy to say that she took the hand I offered her, though she seemed to have no words with which to return my formal greeting. In cases like this, the one who amazes should not impose Upon the amazed one the necessity of asking questions, but should begin immediately to explain the situation.

This I did. I told Sylvia how I had been accidentally brought to Captain Jube’s house, how I had strolled off in this direction, and how delighted I was to meet her here. In all this I was careful not to intimate that I had suspected her presence in this region. While speaking, I tried hard to think what I should say when she should remark, “ Then you did not know I was here ? ” But she did not make this remark. She looked at me with a little puzzled wrinkle on her brow, and said, with a smile:

“It is absolutely wonderful that you should be here, and I should not know it; and that I should be here, and you should not know it.”

Ever since my meeting with Mother Anastasia it had been my purpose, as soon as I could find or make an opportunity, to declare to Sylvia my love for her. Apart from my passionate yearning in this direction, I felt that what I had done and attempted to say when I had parted from my secretary made it obligatory on me, as a man of honor, to say more, the moment I should be able to do so.

Now the ‘opportunity had come ; now we were alone together, and I was able to pour out before her the burning words which so often, in my hours of reverie, had crowded themselves upon my mind. The fates had favored me as I had had no reason to expect to be favored, but I took no advantage of this situation. I spoke no word of love. I cannot say that Sylvia’s demeanor cooled my affection, but I can say that it cooled my desire for instantaneous expression of it. After her first moments of astonishment, her mind seemed entirely occupied with the practical unraveling of the problem of our meeting. I endeavored to make this appear a very commonplace affair. It was quite natural that my companion and I should come together to a region which he had before visited.

“ Yes,” said she. £' I suppose all outof-the-way things can be made commonplace, if one reasons long enough. As for me, of course it is quite natural that, needing a change from the House of Martha, I should come to my mother’s island.”

“ Your mother ! ” I stammered.

“ Yes,” she answered. “ Mrs. Raynor, who spends her summers in that house over there, is my mother. Her brother is here, too, and she has some friends with her. Mother Anastasia was away recently on a little jaunt, and when she came back she said that I looked tired and wan, and that I ought to go to my mother’s for a fortnight. So I came. That was all simple enough, you see.”

Simple enough! Could anything be more extraordinary, more enigmatical ? I did not know what to say, what course to pursue ; but in the midst of my surprise I had sense enough to see that, until I knew more, the less I said the better. Sylvia did not know that I had visited her mother’s island and her mother’s house. It is possible that she did not know that Mother Anastasia had been here. I must decide whether or not I would enlighten herw on these points. My disposition was to be perfectly open and frank with her. and to be thus I must enlighten her. But I waited, and in answer to her statement merely told her how glad I was that she had a vacation and such a delightful place to come to. She did not immediately reply, but stood looking past me over the little vale beyond us.

“ Well, here I am,” she said presently, and in a very different dress from that in which you used to see me; but for all that, I am still a sister of the House of Martha, and so ” —

“So what ? ” I interrupted.

“ I suppose I should go back to the house,” she answered.

Now I began to warm up furiously.

“Don’t think of it ! " exclaimed. “ Now that I have met you, give me a few moments of your time. Let me see you as you are, free and undisguised, like other women, and not behind bars or in charge of old Sister Sarah. ”

“ Was n’t she horrid ? ” said Sylvia.

“ Indeed she was,” I replied; " and now cannot you walk a little with me, or shall we sit down somewhere and have a talk ? ”

Slie shook her head. “ Even if mother and the rest had not gone away in the boat, 1 could not do that, you know.”

If she persisted in her determination to leave me, she should know my love in two minutes. But I tried further persuasion.

“We have spent hours together,” I said ; “ why not let me make you a little visit now ? ”

Still she gently shook her head, and looked away. Suddenly she turned her face toward me. Her blue eyes sparkled. her lips parted, and there was a flush upon her temples.

“ There is one thing I would dearly like,” she said, “ and I think I could stay for that. Will you finish the story of Tomaso and Lucilla?”

“ I shall be overjoyed to do it! ” I cried, in a state of exultation. “ Come, let us sit over there in the shade, at the bottom of this hill, and I will tell you all the rest of that story.”

Together we went down the little slope.

“You can’t imagine,” she said, “how I have longed to know how all that turned out. Over and over again I have finished the story for myself, but I never made a good ending to it. It was not a bit like hearing it from you.”

I found her a seat on a low stone near the trunk of a tree, and I sat upon the ground near by, while my soul bounded up like a loosened balloon.

“ Happy thought! ” she exclaimed. “ I came out here to write letters, not caring for fishing, especially in boats; how would you like me to write the rest of the story from your dictation ? ”

Like it! I could scarcely find words to tell her how I should like it.

“ Very well, then,”said she, opening her portfolio and taking out some sheets of paper. “ My inkstand is in that case which you picked up ; please give it to me, and let us begin. Now this is a very different affair. I am finishing the work which the House of Martha set me to do, and I assure you that I have been very much dissatisfied because I have been obliged to leave it unfinished. Please begin.”

“ I cannot remember at this moment,” I said, “ where we left off.”

“ I can tell you exactly,” she answered, “ just as well as if I had the manuscript before me. Tomaso held Lucilla by the hand ; the cart was ready in which he was to travel to the seacoast ; they were calling him to hurry; and he was trying to look into her face, to see if he should tell her something that was in his heart. You had not yet said what it was that was in his heart. There was a chance, you know, that it might be that he felt it necessary for her good that the match should be broken off.”

“ How did you arrange this in the endings you made?” I asked. “Did you break off the match ? ”

“ Don t let us bother about my endings, she said. “ I want to know yours.”

XXXII.

TOMASO AND LUCILLA.

On this happy morning, sitting in the shade with Sylvia, I should have much preferred to talk to her of herself and of myself than to dictate the story of the Sicilian lovers; but if I would keep her with me I must humor her, at least for a time, and so, as well as I could, I began my story.

The situation was, however, delightful : it was charming to sit and look at Sylvia, her portfolio in her lap, pen in hand, and her blue eyes turned toward me, anxiously waiting for me to speak; it was so enchanting that my mind could with difficulty be kept to the work in hand. But it would not do to keep Sylvia waiting. Her pen began to tap impatiently upon the paper, and I went on. We had written a page or two when she interrupted me.

“ It seems to me,” she said, “ that if Tomaso really starts for Naples it will be a good while before we get to the end of the story. So far as I am concerned, you know, I would like the story just as long as you choose to make it; but we have n’t very much time, and it would be a dreadful disappointment to me if I should have to go away before the story is ended.”

“ Why do you feel in a hurry ? ” I asked. “ If we do not finish this morning, cannot I come to you to-morrow?”

“ Oh, no, indeed,” she answered. “ It’s only by the merest chance, you know, that I am writing for you this morning, and I could n’t do it again. That would be impossible. In fact, I want to get through before the boat comes back. Not that I should mind mother, for she knows that I used to write for you, and I could easily explain how I came to be doing it now; and I should not care about uncle or Mr. Heming; but as for Miss Laniston,— that is the lady who is visiting us,— I would not have her see me doing this for anything in the world. She hates the House of Martha, although she used to be one of its friends, and I know that she would like to see me leave the sisterhood. She ridicules us whenever she has a chance, and to see me here would be simply nuts to her.”

“ Is she a bad-tempered lady ? ” I asked. “Do you know her very well ? Could you trust her in regard to anything important ? ”

“Oh, I know her well enough,” said Sylvia. “ She has always been a friend of the family. She is wonderfully well educated, and knows everything, and has never married, and travels all about by herself, and is just as independent as she can be. She has very strong opinions about things, and doesn’t hesitate to tell you them, no matter whether she thinks you like it or not. I have no doubt she is perfectly trustworthy and honorable, and all that ; but if you knew her, I do not think you would like her, and you can easily see why I should n’t want her to see me doing this. It would give her a chance for no end of sneers at the work of the sisters.”

“ Has she never said anything about your acting as my amanuensis? ” I asked.

“ No, indeed,” replied Sylvia. “ You may be sure she never heard of that, or she would have made fun enough of it.”

It was impossible for me to allow this dear girl to remain longer in ignorance of the true state of affairs.

“ Miss Raynor,” I said, — how I longed to say “ Sylvia ” ! — “ I am ashamed that I have allowed you to remain as long as this under a misunderstanding, but in truth I did not understand the case myself. I did not know that the lady of this house was your mother, but I have met her, and have been kindly entertained by her. I did not know Miss Laniston’s name, but I have also met her, and talked to her about you, and she knows you used to write for me, and I do not like her.”

Sylvia answered not a word, but, as she sat and looked at me with wideopen eyes, I told her what had happened since my companion and I had landed at Racket Island. I omitted only my confidences to Mother Anastasia and Miss Laniston.

“ Mother Anastasia has been here,”repeated Sylvia, “ and she never told me ! That surpasses all. And mother never mentioned that you had been here,”nor did any one.” She gazed steadfastly upon the ground, a little pale, and presently she said, “ I think I understand it, but it need not be discussed; ” and, closing her portfolio, she rose to her feet.

“ Sylvia,” I exclaimed, springing up and stepping nearer to her, “it must he discussed! Ever since I parted from you at the window of your writing-room I have been yearning to speak to you. I do not understand the actions of your family and friends, but I do know that those actions were on your account and on mine. They knew I loved you. I have not in the least, concealed the fact that I loved you, and I hoped, Sylvia, that you knew it.”

She stood, her closed portfolio in one hand, her pen in the other, her eyes downcast, and her face grave and quiet. “ I cannot say,” she answered presently, “that I knew it, although sometimes I thought it was so, but other times I thought it was not so. I was almost sure of it when you took leave of me at the window, and tried to kiss my hand, and were just about to say something which I knew I ought not to stay and hear. It was when thinking about that morning, in fact, — and I thought about it a great deal, — that I became convinced I must act very promptly and earnestly in regard to my future life, and be true to the work I had undertaken to do ; and for this reason it was that I solemnly vowed to devote the rest of my life to the House of Martha, to observe all its rules and do its work.”

“ Sylvia,” I gasped, “ you cannot keep this vow. When you made it you did not know I loved you. It cannot hold. It must be set aside.”

She looked at me for a moment, and then her eyes again fell. “ Do not speak in that way,” she said; “it is not right. Of course I was not sure that you loved me, but I suspected it, and this was the very reason why I took my vow.”

“ It is plain, then,” I exclaimed bitterly, “ that you did not love me ; otherwise you would never have done that! ”

“Don’t you think,” said she, “that, considering the sisterhood to which I belong, we have already talked too much about that? ”

If she had exhibited the least emotion, I think I should have burst out into supplications that she would take the advice of her Mother Superior ; that she would listen to her friends ; that she would do anything-, in fact, which would cause her to reconsider this step, which condemned me to misery and her to a life for which she was totally unfitted, — a career in her case of such sad misuse of every attribute of mind and body that it wrung my heart to think of it. But she stood so quiet, so determined, and with an air of such gentle firmness that words seemed useless. In truth, they would not come to me. She opened her portfolio.

“ I will give you these sheets that I have written,” she said; “by right they belong to you. I am sorry the story was interrupted, for I very much want to hear the end of it, and now I never shall.”

I caught at a straw. “Sylvia,” I cried, “ let us sit down and finish the story ! We can surely do that. Come, it is all ready in my mind. I will dictate rapidly.”

She shook her head. “ Hardly,” she answered, “ after what has been said. Here are your pages.”

I took the pages she handed me, because she had written them.

“Sylvia,” I exclaimed. “I shall finish that story, and you shall hear it! This I vow.”

“ I am going now,” she responded. “Good-by.”

“ Sylvia,” I cried, quickly stepping after her as she moved away, “ will you not say more than that ? Will you not even give me your hand ? ”

“ I will do that,” she replied, stopping, “ if you will promise not to kiss it.”

I took her hand, and held it a few moments without a word. Then she gently withdrew it.

“ Good-by again,” she said. “ I don’t want you to forget me ; but when you think of me, always think of me as a sister of the House of Martha.”

As I stood looking after her, she rapidly walked toward the house, and I groaned while thinking I had not told her that if she ever thought of me she must remember I loved her, and would love her to the end of my life. But in a moment I was glad that I had not said this; after her words to me it would have been unmanly, and, besides, I knew she knew it.

When I lost sight of her in the grove by the house, I turned and picked up the pages of the story of Tomaso and Lucilla, which I had dropped. In doing so I saw her inkstand, with its open case near by it, on the ground by the stone on which she had been sitting. I put the inkstand in its case, closed it, and stood for some minutes holding it and thinking; hut I did not carry it away with me as a memento. Drawing down a branch of the tree, I hung the little case securely by its handles to a twig, where it would be in full view of any one walking that way.

Frank R. Stockton.