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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

j^otaeW.

HEPHZIBAH GUINNESS.
IN WAR TIME.
ROLAND BLAKE.
FAR IN THE FOREST.
CHARACTERISTICS.

<Q^iiaii!i.

DOCTOR AND PATIENT.

WEAR AND TEAR-HINTS FOR
THE OVERWORKED.

{^ocm0.

THE HILL OF STONES.
THE MASQUE.
THE CUP OF YOUTH.
A PSALM OF DEATHS.

S. WKIR MITCHKLL.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS
ARE GREEN

A NOVEL

S. WEIR MITCHELL

M.D.,LL.D., HARVARD

NEW YORK

THE CENTURY CO.
1894

1/ J 6

THE DEVtNNE PRESS.

JOHN L. CADWALADER

THE FRIEND OF MANY YEARS,— THE
COMPANION OF MANY SUMMERS

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AR». GKI '^N

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

CHAPTER I

HE night of suraincr eomes late in
this nortli land. Althougli it was
nearly nine o'clock, the shadows,
long gathering in the valleys and
the woods, had hnt jnst now over-
flowed onto the broad levels of the
river. Above was hu-ry of low-lying (donds, throngh
which swift star-gleams seemed to flit, like the mo-
mentary beacons of the rare fireflies along the shore.
Far away the shriek of a departing train broke tlu^
general stillness and rang fainter and more faint in
wild variety of tones among the farther hills.

On the bank of this wide Canadinn river, a little
above the margin, stood under the yet dripping trees
a group of diverse people, but all of one household
Travel-weary and silent, for a time they looked down
on the dimly lit stream, and heard, as they waited, the
murmur and hum of its waters, or, with eyes as' yet
unused to the gloom, strove to see tlie group of men
about the boats on the b(^ach below them.
" This way, Margaret," said a man's cheerful voicl^

>«r^

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AliE GREEN

" take care ; tliere is my arm, dear. How deliglitful
to see tlie old river! "

The night was so dark that Lyiidsay liesitated as he
stood on the verge.

" Wliat is ic ? " said his wife.

" T d<; not quite like to go up to-night in this depth
of darkness. Do you think it quite safe, Polyearp '?
Can you see ? "

*' Not very w(dl," said tlu^ guide, " but soon brt^ak
and have heap nuxni."

"I think we must risk it, my dear. You will go
with me." Then he said a word of (tuition to the
guides, and called to the boys, "Come, Dicky, and
you, Jackunis." They ran down the slope in haste
and stood a little, made (piiet for once in their noisy
lives, but inreresled, alert, ami peering through the
darkness.

" Is that you, Tom and Ambrose 'i How are you
all? and Pierre — have you kept nu^ a big salmon ?"

lie shook hands Avith each of the guides, having a
gay word of kindly remembrance for all in turn,
^[eanwhile the sister of the boys came down to the
cauoes, nuule silent, like the children, l)v the night, the
pervasive stillness, and the novelty of the situation.

" Baggage gone up, Pierre ? "

" Yes, Mr. Lyndsay ; everything is right, — and the
salmon thick as pine-needles. Thci small traps are all
in. We might be getting away."

" Shall the women need their waterproofs, Tom ? " —
this to a huge form which loomed large as it moved
among the other men, who were busy adjusting the
small freight of hand baggage. The voice, when it

■■'>:

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

broke out in reply, was, even for a fellow of six feet
two, of unproportioned loudness.

" They won't want none ; it 's a-g-oin' to bust out
clear."

Miss Anne Lyndsay, the maiden aunt of the ehil-
dren, came down the bank as Thunder Tom replied
Her steps, too feeble for health, were thoughtfully
aided by Edward, the youngest boy. To her turned
iu)se, the niece, a woman of twenty years.

" Did you ever hear the like ? "

She felt the queer improprieiy of this terrible voire
m the solemn stillness which, somehow, adequately
suggested tiie tribute of the bated breath

"Won't need no wraps. Miss Lyndsav. Rain 's
done. There fell a power of water."

"What a voice, Aunt Anne!" said Rose ''It 's
like the boom of the sea."

"He explodes,- he does n't speak j a conversa-
tional cannonade."

"Hush," said Mrs. Lyndsay, the mother; - he is
quite sensitive about it. He was with us last year
and a very good man, too, as I know." '

" Canoe is ready, sir."

" It is like a parting salute," said Rose.

" W(>11, my dear," whispered Miss Anne, "it will be
a fine reminder for a certain person; all things have
ttieir uses."

" Thanks, Aunt Anne. A certain person has a not
micertain consciousness that she does n't need it
}^ oiks complain that we women speak too loud I ani
sure our men have lost their voices. As for the Enjr-
hsh women you admire so much, I could hardly un-

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

*ii

(lerstand them at all, with theii" timid, thin voices,
and fat a's,-'

'' Stuff ! " said Miss Anne. " That is Enj^lish."

*' I prefer Shakspere's Englisli," said Rose. " I ad-
vise them to read ' Love's Labor 's Lost.' "

" That is our old battle-field, Rose. But you would
have to be consistent, and I do assure you, if you
talked as Shakspere talked, you would make a sen-
sation."

"Come, adjourn that skirmish," said Archi])ald
Lyndsay, who had been rearranj^inj? the (^anoeloads.

Then the voice, to which others were as whispers,
roared :

" Who 's for where, Mr. Lvndsav ? "

" All right. Tom, your v()i(^e is really g'etting*
broken. Come, Margaret, — this way dear."

" It 's so,'' said Tom. '' I kin speak bigger if I try,"
— this to Miss Lyndsay, apologetically, as he aided
her into the boat. " Fact is, Miss, I was twins, like
them boys, and Bill he died. He had n't no voice to
count on. It 's main useful when you 're drivin'
h)gs."

"What a baby he must have been in a quiet
family ! " whispered Anne to Rose and Ned. " Imag-
ine it ! "

" I did n't understand what he said, Aunt Anne,"
remarked the boy. *

" I do not think he quite understood liimself. Per-
haps he had a vague notion that he had to talk so as
to represent the dead l>rother, ' who had n't no voice
to count on.' "

" I like it," remarked Rose. " Yes, papa."

II voices,

sh."

, "lad-

ou would
II, if you
ko a seu-

\.vcliil)!il(l
noeloads.
wliispeivs,

y gettiuj]'-

V."

V if I try,"
, lie aided
:\viiis, like
lo voice to
're driviii'

u a quiet
i. " Iniag-

lut Anne,"

iself. Pev-
) talk so as
I't no voice

■i

i
I

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

'^This way," said Lyndsay; ^'here, Margaret, in
my canoe."

" Could I have Ned witli nie, brother ? " asked Miss
Anne.

"Certainly. Here, in this canoe, not tlie birch.
This one,— now, so, with your face up the river, and
you, Ned,— yes, on the cusliion on tlie bottom."

"How comfortable!" said Anne, as she leaned back
ou a board set at a slope against the seat.

"And now, Margaret,— you and I, together with
Pierre and — Halloa there, Gemini! Oh, you are in
the birch already. No nonsense, now! No larking!
These birches turn over like tumbler-pigeons."

" You, dear,"— to Rose,— '' you are to go with Poly-
!arp and Ambrose. By yourself, my child ? Yes."

There was a special note of tenderness in his voice
as he spoke.

" How is that, Rosy Posy ? "

"Delightful! How well you know! And I did
want to be alone,— just to-night,— for a little while.'

"Yes." As he released her hand he kissed her
" Now, away with you." In a few moments the little
fleet was off, and the paddles were splashing jets of
white out of the deep blackness of the stream Bv
degrees the canoes fell apart. Despite the parentid
warning, the tAvins had secured paddles, and were more
or less competently aiding their men, so that soon tliev
were far ahead.

Lyndsay chatted with his guides of the salmon, and
of his luggage and stores, sent up the day before.
Aunt Anne and her favorite Ned were silent for a
time ;^but the boy's glance roamed restlessly from sky

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

to sti'oam, and up over the great dim hills. At lust
he said :

*' Hark, Aunt Anne ; liow lond things sound at
niglit!"

" Them 's the rapids," said Tom, in tones that made
Miss Lyndsay start. " Them 's a mile away.''

'' I suppose, Ned, that when all one's other senses
are more or less unused, the ear may hear more dis-
tinetly ; at all events, what you say is true, I think. If
I want to hear veiy plaiidy, I am apt to shut my eyes
— good musie always makes mo do that.''

"That 's so," said John. He eonsidered himself
(piite free to have his share in the talk. ''When I 'm
callin' moose, 1 most alius shuts my eyes to listen, to
them trumpetin' baek. Dory ?[ayl»rook Avas a-sayin'
that same thing las' Toosday a week. We was a-settin'
out by her wood-pile. An' slio sat there a-thinkin'.
An' says she, 'It 's (*ui''(ms how you ean hear things at
night.' Jus' like you said. Hiram he was a-ehoppin'."

" Who is Dorv Mavhrook ? " said Ned.

'' Well, she 's Dorv Mavbrook ; she 's Hiram's wife.
Hiram 's her husband," and he laughed, — laughed as
he talked, so that the noise of it boomed across tlu^
wide waters.

Again for a while they were silent, asking no more
(piesti'.)ns. The aunt was wondering what could have
given big Tom his overpowering voice, and how it
would affe(!t one to live Avith such an organ. She
turned it over in her mind in all its droller aspe<!ts,
imagining Tom making love, or at his sonorous devo-
tions, for to Anne Lyndsay there were few things in
life remote from the possibility of humorous relation.

■^

ijii

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

, lust

id at

imidc

senses
lu dis-
ik. If
ly eyes

liiv.selt
I'll I 'ill
steu to
ii-sayiu'
i-settiii'
hiiikhi'.
uii^;s at
oppiii'.*'

s witV.
glu'd as
•OSS tlu'

io move
lid liavo
liow it

111. Slie
aspects,
lis devo-

"liiijrs in
i-elation.

Twice the boy asked if she were comfortable, or
warm enouj^h, and, reassured, fell back into the pos-
session of tiie deepeiiiiij^ night and the black water,
wlience, suddenly, here and there, flashed something
white through the blackness, like, as the lad thought,
tlie snowy wings of the turning sea-gulls he had seen
over the St. Lawrence at break of day.

In the otlier (!anoe, far behind and out of si<'ht,
Hose Lyiidsay lay, propped against the baggage, in
delicious contentment of mind and body. It was a
vast and satisf\,i)ig change from the completed civili-
zations of the world of Europe, where for a >ear she
had wandered with Anne Lyndsay. Tliree weeks be-
fore the evening on which begins my tale, she Avas in
London, and now she was greeted Avith a sudden
sense t f emancipation fnun the world of convention-
alities. Neither father nor mother was exclusivclv

•

represented in this happily fashioned womanhood.
And thus it was that her inherited (jualities so modi-
tied one another that people missed the resemblances,
and said only that she was like none of her people.

Nevertheless, she had her father's taste and capacity
for seeing accurately and enjoying the simple uses of
observation, with also, in a measure, what he some-
what lacked — the aunt's unending joy in all humor;
sharing with her the privilege of finding a smile or a
laugh where others, who lack this magic, can only
conjure sadness. She saAV with mental directness, and,
Avliere her affections were not coiuicrned, acted without
the hesitations wiiich perplex the inadecpiate thinker.

Her aniit, to whom she bore some resemblance in
face, had learned much in a life of nearly constant

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

sickness, l)ut never the power to restrain her fatal in-
cisiveness of speecfli. She eoukl liurt herself with it
as well as annoy others, as she well knew. But in
her niece, keenness of perception and lar^e sense of
the ridiculons were pnt to no critical nses. The sim-
ple kindliness of her mother was also hers.

At times in life permanent qualities of mind vary in
tlie importance of the nse we make of them. Rose
was now in the day of (piestions. Everythinj** inter-
ested her : an immense curiosity sharpened her natu-
rally acute mental vision ; an eloquently imaginative
nature ki'pt lu'r supplied Avitli endh'ss (pieries. Tlic
hour of re(H)gni7.ed limitations had not yet stru(!k for
her. Now she set the broad sails of a willing" mood,
and gave herself up to the influen(;es of the time and
l)lac<'. Deej) darkness was about her. The sky
seenu'd tc> be h>w above her. The dusky hills ap-
pear^'d to l)e close at hand on each side. The watei"
looked, as it rose to left and right, as though the
sky, the Avaves, the hills were crowding in upon her,
and she, sped by rhythmic paddles, was flitting througli
a lane of narrowing gloom.

The impression I descril)e, of being walled in at
night by water, hill, and sky, is familiar to the more
sensitive of those who are wise enough to find their
holiday by wood and stream. The newness of the
sensation charmed the girl. Tlieu in turn came to
her the noise of the greater rapids, as, after two hours,
the river became more swift.

Twice she had spoken ; but twice the dark guidcf
had made clear to her that ho needed all his wits
about him, and once he had altogether failed to an-
swer her or, perhaps, to hear at all. But now the

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

,al in-
ith it
kit ill
ise of
e siiii-

iiry iu

Rost^

iuter-
• natii-
iiijitive
. Tlu'
u'.k for
; mood,
1110 and
le sky
ills ap-
e water
gli tlio
oil lior,
liroujuli

d in at
le more
id tlu'ir
of the
ame to
) hours,

k guide
lis wits
1 to aii-
low the

clouds began to break, and the night bectame clear, so
that all objects were more easily discernible. " Is
your name Polycarj) ? " she said, at last, turning as she
sat to look back at the iini)assive figure in the .stern.

" I 'm Polycarp," said the Indian.

" What is that I hear ? Of course I hear tlu^ rapids,
1 )ut — it is like ^ >i(?es and — and — laughter. Is it only
the rapids? How strange! Could you — just stop
paddling a moment?"

The paddles were silent, and slit! listened. The
sounds came and went, mysteriously rising, falling, or
changing, despite* the absence of wind, as they drifted
downward when the paddles no longer moved. Mr.
Lvudsay's canoe overtook them. "What is it?" he
called. " Anything wn mg ! "

" No, no ! I wanted to hear the rapids. They seem
lik(! voices."

''Ask me about that to-morrow," said her father,
" but push on now. We shall be late enough."

Again the paddles fell, and her canoe slid away into
the ever-deepening night. Of a sudden her traiufe of
thought was broken, and over the waters from the
twins came snatches of song, bits of Scotch ballads,
familiar in this household. At last she smiled and
murmured, " The scamps ! " They were caroling the
song with which they had been fond of mocking her
in her girlhood.

"There are seven fair flowers in yon green wood,
In a bush in the woods o' Lyndsaye ;

There are seven braw flowers an' ae bonny bud,
Oh I the bonniest flower in Lyndsaye.

An' weel love I the bonny, bonny rose —
The bonny, bonny Rose-a-Lyndsaye ;

■\i

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GEEEN

All' I '11 big ray bowor o' tho forest boughs,
All' I Ml tleo in tlio groeu woods o' Lyndsaye.

'• Her face is like tho evoiiiii' lake,

That tho birk or the willow fringes,
Whose peane the wild wind canna break,

Or but its beauty changes.
An' she is aye my bonny, bonny rose.

She 'is the bonny young Roso-a-Lyndsayc ;
An' ae blink of her e'o wad bo dearer to me

Than the wale o' the lands o' Lyndsaye."

The voices i'iiii«? dear ii inoment, and then were lost,
and lieard anew, without seeniinj»: cause for the break.
Then came a fresh snatch of song :

" Come o'er the stream, Charlie,
Braw Charlie, brave Charlie;
Come o'or the stream, Charlie,
And dine with McClain."

As she listened and caug'ht the wilder notes of Bur-
nieboozle, they fell into the orchestral opjiositions of
the rapids, and died to tlu; ear amid the cry and crash
and hoarse noises of the broken waters.

Rose saw the men rise and take their poles, and felt
amidst the beautiful dim vision of white waVe-crests
how tho frail canoe quivered as it was driven up the
watery way.

Then they kept to the shore under the trees, the
poles monotonously ringing, with ever around her,
coming and going, that delicious odor of the spruce,
richest after rain, which to smell in the winter, amid
the roar of the city, brings to the wood-farer the
homesickness of the distant forest. Her dreamy
mood on(^e broken was again disturbed by that rare
speaker, the silent Polycarp.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

re.

cere lost,
le break.

is of Buv-
sitions of
iiid crash

s, and folt
aVe-crosts
n\ up tlio

trees, tlio
mud lier,
u' spruce,
iter, amid
-farer the
r dreamy
that rare

" I snu'U camp."

" What ! " she said.

'< Yes — very ^ood smell — when bacon fry — smell
liim lonj^ away — t\v() mile."

" 1 smell it," she .said. " How stranji:e ! "

"Smell fry long way — .smell baccy not .so far.
Smell Mr. Lyndsay pipe little whihf back."

And now f:ir ahead she saw li<'hts, and started as
tlu^ Indian smote the wat'n* with the flat ^^t his paddle,
makinji' ahmd sound, which came back in altered notes
from the hills abont them.

" Make 'em hepr at (!amp."

Presently she was at tin; foot of a little cliflp, where
th(^ twins were already noisily busy.

" Halloa, Rose ! Can you sec ? "

" Yes, Jack."

" Is n't it jolly ? Give me a hand."

" No, me."

" This beats Columbus," said the elder lad. " Take
(tare, Spices" — this to the young'cr twin, who, by reason
of many frcc^kles, was known in the houseludd, to his
distrust, as the Cinnamon Bear, Cinnamon, Spices, or
Bruin, as caju'ice dictated.

" I '11 punch your red head, Ruf us," cried the lad.
" You just wait. Ruby."

" Boys ! boys ! " said Rose. '* Now each of j'ou give
me a hand. Don't l)egin with a (piarrel."

*' It is n't a quarrel; it 's a row," said Jack.

" Adistinction not withoutadiflf erence,"laughed Rose.
" Oh, here is everybody." And with jest and laughter
they climbed the steps cut in the cliff, and gaily entered
the cabin which was to be their home for some weeks.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GUEEN

''i^t

'ill!).'

Thoro was ft liirj^o, l(»w-nift('r('(l room, covered with
bircfh-bark ot iiumy tints. On eaeli sidci were two
eluunbers, for the ehh'rs. Tlu^ hoys, to their joy, were
to sh'ep in tents on the l)hitl', near to wliere the tents
of the guides were pitehed, a Ht'h( away from tiic^
(^ahin, and back of a roarinj:^ eamp-ilre. liehind the
house u smaller cabin snfhced for a kitclien, and in
Hie h)y;-liouse, wliere also a fb'e l)lazed in ruddy wel-
(Mune, not iingratefid after the coolness of the river,
the supper-table was already set. As Hose jj^ot up
from table, after the meal, she missed hei* niothei- and,
takinj"' a shawl, went out onto the porch whicli sur-
rounded the house on all sides.

For a monu'iit, she saw only the upward flare of the
northern lights, and then, presently, Mrs. Lyndsaiy,
standing silent on the bluff, with a hand on Ned's
shoulder, looking across the river. Rose quietly laid
the shawl over her mother's shoulders, and caught her
hand. Mrs. Lyndsay said, " Thank you, dear Rose, but
I want to bo alone a little. I shall come in verv soon."
They went without a word, meeting theii* father just
within the door. *' Mother sent us in," said Rose,

" I understand," and he also turned back. " It is
Harry! It is about Harry."

''Yes, it is Harry," repeated Rose; for the year biv
fore Mrs. Lyndsay had left a little Aveakly fellow, her
youngest, in the rude burial-ground of the snnUl
Methodist church, some miles away, up the stream.
She had been alone with Mr. Lyndsay and the child,
and it had been her first summer on the river. When,
the next spring, she had proposed to take thither the
whole family, her husband had gladly consented.

I with
e two
', wore
i tentH
in the
\n\ tlio
and i"
[\y wt'l-
t» river,
p.t up
cr iiiul,
icli sur-

i-e of tlie
jyiidsay,
)ii Ned's
otly liiid
uj^'iit her
Kose, hut
i-y soon."
thev just
Rose.
" It is

year he-
lit )W, her
le siiudl
e streiiiu.
the chihl,
When,
lither the
ntcd.

CHAPTER II

~ni""i"^r

JRS. LYNDS AY — comely, rosy, in

M\ the vifjfor of younji; niiddle-lif(! —
i was the first to welcome the sun, as
''"' it came over tlie hills heyond the
river. In tlie camps was stir of
breakfast, and silent, inverted cones
of smoke from the fires. Soon Rose, on the edge of
the cliflf, cried "Good morniny;!" and the mother saw
the 8tron<f, well-l)uilt girl come toward her, and had
pride in her vigor and swec^tness. They kissed, and
the moth(!r went in, and Rose hack to her maiden
iiicditations.

She sat down on a camp-stool, and felt that for the
first time slu^ had leisure to think. She and her aunt
had been met by her father when their steamer came,
and amidst incessant tpiestions they had been hurried
off into the wilds of New Brunswick. A vear awav
had made for her new possibilities of observation, and
now, with surprised interest, she found herself in the
center of a household which, assuredly, even to the
more experienced, would have seemed pecndiar. It
was, in fact, more peculiar than odd. There was no
eccentricity, but much positive (character. This Rose
Lyndsay saw as she had never seen it before. The
growth of definitely marked natures in the boys struck

t'irr'f^

If ' ; I

■. ' I t

' I

i.'

I'U

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AEE GREEN

her, the fresh air (^f a kind of family freedom rare
elsewhere; the audacity of the lads' eomiueiits, and
their easy relations with the father, were things which
now she saw anew with more thoughtfully coservant
eyes.

It were well to say, however, that it was a I'epiiblic
with budden prol)al)ilities of dictatorship, and that a
stranger coming- within its circle rarely beheld much
of the outspoken fashions and droll appearance of
equality which, at times, seemed to disregard the def-
erence ordinarily yielded to parental oi)inion. In
fact, there was a comfortable sense of comradeship
all around, which had its values, and Avith it an aifec-
tion so strong Jliat the wounds of all intellectual dif-
ferences, and of the somewhat rare j)hysical contests
of the boys, were easily healed by its constancy, and
by the father's power to make each see in all the rest
their specifically valuable traits. Some things which
in other households are looked upon as serious were
in this little noticed, — while, as to certain hipses,
punishment was apt to be severe enough.

By and by Ned came out and sat down by Kose.
He was the most silent of them all.

" Well," said Rose, as he kissed her, '' is n't it beau-
tifid, Ned? Look at the low nunulows down below
the elms, and the cliffs opposite, and the wild water!
Don't you love it "i "

"I think I — I like it," he replied. ''How black
the water h)oks — how Avilfnl it looks — that was
what I wanted to say. I fJiink I like it, Uose. Some-
times I don't like things other peoi.'tv like, — I mean
grown-up people. I suppose that 's very stupid."

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

a rare

s, and

lervant

epublie
tliat a
i mut'li
iuice of
the (lef-
ion. Ill
•adeslnp
1111 afft'«'-
tual dit'-
coutests
ncy, mid
L the vest
o-s whieh
>us Aveve
hipses,

)y Eose.

it l)eau-
,-n l)eh)\v
kl water !

()W hhielv
that was
Some-
I mean

ipid."

^' No, — oh, no ! " She was struck with the oddness
of some aspects of his mind. " Was that what trou-
bled you yesterday, Avhcn we were all lookinjjf at that
great Jiare of red sunset lii^ht, — you would n't si)eakr'

" It was beautiful, but — you won't tell, Rose 'i — the
Bear and Rufus would laug'h at mc, — it was terrible!"

She h)<)ked aside at him, curious and interested.
"I think I understand, and I shall never, never laug'h
at you, Ned. You must tell me everything'."

"Souietiines I can't,"' he siiid. "It is queer, but
sometimes I don't want to." Tie was truthful to a
fault, aud was of no mind to make unconditional
treaties.

*'I iniderstand that, too"; and then they fell into
lighter chat of friends and cousins, until Mr. Lynd-
say called ''breakfast," from the cabin-door, and they
went in.

The twins were scarcely more than wide-awake
enough to settle down to serious work at bread and
butter and porridge. The canned milk they pro-
nounced abominable, but soon learned that ]Mrs. May-
brook's cows wcndd furnish a fair supply of theii*
essential diet. Miss Anne came in a little wearily,
glad as she nu)ved of the stay of a chair-back and the
boys' help, for they all rose at once.

" Did you sleep well ? " said Lyndsay.

" Xo ; worse than nsuol."

" I thought by your smiling ycm woidd have had a
good night, but your dear old face is a, dreadful pur-
vevor of libs. Are von feeling badlv to-dav l "

*' Sh — sh — !" sh(i cried, ''don't dose me w'ith my-
self, Archy ; as that di'lightful Mrs. Maybrook said to

j (

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

Margaret, * I do luite to be babied.' Is that your teiitli
eoriicake, Jack ? "

** Ninth, aiiiity, — I have fo eat for you and me.
I 'in like Thunder Tom's voiue."

"Tliat 's the good of being- twins, — you eau eat for
two!" eried Ned.

" It 's my seventh," said Dick, eomphieently. " I
wouhl n't be such a (1. I. P. as Jack."

" Sudden deatli is Avhat he will get," returned Dick.

" Your seventh," said Anne. '* But how can one die
better than facing fearful odds?" And then there
M'as a little moment of hiughtcr, and the gay chatter
went on. At last Mr. Lyndsay said:

"• When you are through, boys, with this astounding
breakfast, we will talk of our plans. Your mother
wants to go up the river. She shall have the two
Gas[)e men. Rose, you will go with me for a first
lesson in salmon-fishing, and you three boys shall go
with Polycarp after trout. Luiu'h at one; and re-
nuMuber, boys, no nonsense in the canoe, mind. This
water is too cold aiul to(» swift to trifle with. You
are a pretty bad lot, but I should not like to have to
choose which I woidd part with. As jMarcus Aurelius
said, ' Girls make existence difficult, but boys make it
impossible.' "

" Who ? What ? " cried Rose.

" That was be(»ause of Master Commodus," said
Ned.

" I 'd like to have licked him," remarked Jack, whose
remedial measures were always combativo.

" He was not a nice boy, like me," said Dick with a

grin.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 17

" Like who ? I liope he spoke Latin with doeciit
coiTectiies.s. Out witli you ! "

" I had ahno.st forgotten about Marc. Aurelius, aunt,"
said liose, aside. " I was really taken in for a moment!"

It was a family fiction, and still a half belief, that
Archibald livndsay would some day publish a great
conunentary on the famous emperor's philosophy;
mcMuwhile it served a variety of humorous purposes!

'• / shall provide myself with a book and sunshine,"
said Miss Anne, "and then with a good field-glass, I
shall own the world,— mental and physical."

" But are the books nnpaciked t " said Rose.

" No, but I have all I want. I nnist go and see."

Hose set out a lounging-chair on the porch, put be-
side it a foot-stool and a rude little table, made by a
guide, and following her aunt to her room, came back
laughing with an arm-load of books. Archibald Lynd-
say smiled.

'^ Xo wonder that man at St. Lambert's groaned over
Anne's trunk."

''That delightful mail! " cried Rose, "who checked
baggage, switched the trains off and on, sold tickets,
answei-ed questions, and did the work of three and
laughed for six. He told papa 'he guessed he was n't
no Canadian. Xot much ! Had to go down to York
State once a year to eat pumpkin-pie and get sot ud —
kind of.' " " ^

" He was of the ])est type of our people," said Lynd-
say. " (\)me, Rose ; Anne appears to be reasonablv
sup]ilied."

"I sh(mld think so, papa. But I must see,— wait
a l)it."
3

Pr^

1 :'f ;

i i

r,n

, 1

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" Oh ! " he exclaimed, picking the hooks up in turn,
" ' Massilh^n,' ' Feuchtersleben,' what a name ! ^ Di-
etetics of the Soul,' what a droll l)usin<'ss ! The Mys-
tery of Pain, my poor Anne ! ' History of the Council
of Trent,' good gracious ! "

At this moment liis sister reappeared. *' Are you
supplied for the morning, Anne ? Past risk t)f famine,
eh ! "

" Not too heavily," slie said. " You know Avhat Mar-
cus Aurelius says about books. 'There is nothing as eco-
nomical as a bad memorv, because then there ariseth
no need to buy many books.' That is my case."

" Then this is all," laughed Lyndsay, pointing with
his pipe-stem to the table. ''Hum! Well, >vell!
Come, Rose."

" Yes, go ! " cried Anne, seating herself, " and take
with you Epictetus. ' If that which is of another's
life perplex thy judgment, go a-fishing, — for tlieri^
thou shall find more innocent uncertainties, and will
capture the wha^'^ wisdom, if thou takest nothing else.'
You may recall the i)assnge. Carp might have been
the fish. Eh, Archie I "

"Stuff and nonsense!" o'ied her brother, as they
turned away. " Anne gets worse day by day, Rose.
Come. Marcus Aurelius, E])ictetus, indeed!"

As they went down the steps to tlie bluff, Anne
Lyndsay, her thin white hands in her lap, looked after
them. Her fa<;e was rarely without a smile; but, as
Rose said truly, ''Aunt Anne wesirs her smiles with a
difference." Just now lier smile was delic^ately flavored
with a look of satisfied affection. As she looked over
river and sun-lit hills, a sharp twinge of pain crossed

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

in turn,
e! 'Di-
'he Mys-
I Council

Arc you
i: famine,

hat Mav-

ig-asceo-
•0 aiiseth
se."

Ang with
11, well!

and take
another's
for tlieri^
and will
ling else.'
lave been

•, as they
lay. Rose.
I!"

ulf, Anne
)ked after
e ; hut, as
les with a
y flavored
oked over
in crossed

her Haw, and her hands shut tiglit a moment, while the
sweat of a brief but overpowering pang wrung from
lier lips an exclamation. Her life had been physically
narrowing for years. As slie became less and less
able to go liere and there, to do this or that, she more
and more resolutely broadened the liorizon of her
mental activities, but, no matter what happened, she
(H)ntinued to smile at or with everything, herself in-
cluded. Now she wiped her forehead, and fell to
smiling again, h)oking sharply about her, for this
woman immensely disliked to be seen in the rare mo-
ments when pain was too emphatic for absolute sU
lenc ' "^ "■ ' ' '

!e.

I wonder why I hate to be seen," she said
aloud, being unusually given to soliloquizing; for, as
she liked to explain, *' I have more respect for my own
opniion if I say it out. It is easier to disregard tho
unspoken. I like to tliink I have the good manners to
listen to myself. It does so trouble Archie, and that
gn-1, for a day when I break up. I wonder if that
small Spartan liad liad the perpetual company of his
fox, liow long li(i would have gone on without squeal-
mg. I know he wriggled," she said, and so feU to
laughnig, after wliicli she lay back in her chair, waved
lier handkerchief to Rose, and began to read.

Wliile the Gaspe canoe went away up the stream
urged by skilful arms, Archibald Lyndsay and Rose
talked merrily.

'M told those boys to keep their eyes open, and not
to come back and tell me they had seen nothing in
partKMilar. As for Ned, lie is sure to see certain things
and not others. He is a dreamer,- oh, worse than
ever, my dear,— it grows on him.'-

3;l

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GRE3N

1,1

" But his dreams — "

" Yes, I know. Tliero is always sometliinp^ in thoni.
He soeins to nie, Rose, too absent-minded for tliis
world's uj-es. At times lie puzzles me. He is the duek
in my henbrood."

*' Ho is pure gold."

"Yes, but when he comes to be put into current
coin, — really, I don't know. As to Kufus, — Dick,!
mean, I hate iiicknames, and this family has enough
for a directory; you will have six a week, — as to
Red-head—"

Rose laughed.

" I get no more respect in this household than — ^"

" Oh, was that a salmon ? " A fish, some three feet
h)ng, leaped high in air, dripping silver in the sun,
and fell with a mighty swash into the glowing waters.

" Yes ; there 's another ! As to Dick, he sees every-
thing, and for (pu\stions — you are nothing to him. I
wanted to talk to you about them, Rose."

"And Jack?''

" Oh, Ja(?k ! Jack will do. He hates books, but he
also hates defeat, — 'i first-rate quality, Rose. He is
one of the three peoi)le I have seen in my life who
lionestlj'' enjoy peril. That comes from his Uncle
Robert. My poor Robin used to laugh when he rode
into the hotfest fight ! "

Rose, remembering how the major died at Antietam,
was silent. Her father was also quiet for a few nu)-
ments.

" That boy must always be fighting somebody. Just
now, he and Ned have a standing difficulty about the

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 21

f in tlioiu.
[ for this
i the du(;k

CllVVCMlt.

— Di(;k, I

IS eiiou^'h
?k, — Jis to

than—"
three feet
I the sun,
ng' waters.
sees every-
to him. I

Dks, but he
ise. He is
y life who
liis Uneh^
en he rode

b Antietani,
• a few nio-

body. Just
V Jibont the

Roundheads and Jacobites. I believe it has cost two
black eyes already."

" How funny ! What do you do about it ? "

" I ? Nothing'. Ned is like a cat for activity, small
as he is, and as to an occasional black eye,— well I
don't ask too many questions."

" But does n't it distress mother ? "

'' Yes, yes, of (iourse ; but so long- as they love one
another, I find it wise to say little. By ancl by, dear,
wluMi you are married, and have a lot ()f boys of your
own, you will understand the wisdom of knowing-
when not to see,— when not to ask questions."

This astounding improbability, of a sudden, struc^k
]{ose dumb. Then she said, abruptly, '• Who is that
away up the riv(^r ?"

" Two young- Boston men. Are they frojn the island
(!amp, Tom ? "

"Yes, sir," said Tom, in his g-reat voice. "Mr.
Ellett, and Mr.— I don't rig-litly mind me of the other
man's name. Thiidv it 's Caring-ton."
" Rather a pretty name," said Rose,— '' Caring-ton."
" Not a New Eng^land name, I suspect. Proliably
Southern. How easily one tells where most of <mr
family names belong-,— the older ones, I mean. Oh,
there is their camp. See how neat everything- is about
their tents. Above this point, Rose, there nvc a few
clearings, and the graveyard li(\s l)a('k from the shore,
wiiere our Harry is buried. Poor littk^ man ! He was
well out of it, Rose, well out of it. We rarely talk of
him. Your mother dislikes it. For myself, I like
better to speak of my dead— and they are "manv— in a

wfr*'-

wmmmm

<i,'

' 'fi

ilN

• ■ 1 'i

■' f

t :

i ;

I ■

i ;

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

wholesome way, without the strange reserve which
even the best of folks have about their lost ones.
However ! "

" Shall we anchor to the head of the pool, sir?" said
Tom.

"Yes, yes. And now, Rose, I want first to liave
you watch me closely, — hand, rod, and line, — ai 1 to
try to follow the fly on the water. I promise yt.ii to
talk enough a])out the trees and the waters next Sun-
day. There are some dead forests above; us, on the
river, from Avhich I want sket<Oies made ; T)ut now it
is the more serious busiiu'ss of the salmon ; ask what
you like."

" Well, then, is n't it late to fish ? It is eight o'clock."

"No; the salmon is an aristocrat, and rises late If
you want striped bass, the break of day is none too
eai'ly."

" Hut will that thin line — what vou call the casting-
line — hold a great thing like the fish I saw leap ? "

" Yes, with the bend Jind give of this sixteen-foot
r')d, and the certainty with which these mateOiless
Vom Hoff reels work. Look, now, the day is pleas-
antly (iloudy, the water a little thick, riled, — roily,
if you like. I think a silver doctor — that \s a fly,
see. Rose — will do. There, you can look ovi'r my
fly-book."

'■ Well," said Rose, " I am compelled to sympathize
with the salmon. Are not our Anglo-Saxon ideas of
sport a little hard on birds and fish f "

" We will adjourn that discussion," said her father,
"until you see a salmon. Tlien we shall know
whether your store of pity will hold out."

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

The cjinoe was now anchored in sonu^ fonr feet of
sti'onjj;', broken water. Th(! bowman, with his anehor-
rope ready, the sternman, on the bottom of the boat,
with his faee to the pool, his eye on every east of the
fly. Mr. Lyndsay stood a littk; back from the center,
a fine fij^nre. Hose thouglit, tall, stronj*-, rnddy, with a
face clean-shaven, exci^pt for side-wliiskers. At fii'st
he cast his fly near to the vianoC; left and ri^ht in snc-
ccssion, and {j;'ivin<»' the rod a sli<4ht motion, kept the
fly movhig* down-stream luitil directly astern of the
boat. Tl'cn with a new cast, adding- two or more feet
of line from the reel, he ajj^ain let the swift water rnn
it ont. Thns, castinj^ each time a little farther, he
covered by degrees an increasing* triangnlar area of
water, of Avhich tlu^ stern of the boat was the apex.
As he went on fishing, he chatted with Kose, who sat
in front of him, so that he cast over both the girl and
the lau'lv figure of Tom.

"T am now castijig' about forty-five feet of line," he
said. "I can cast about sixtv-five, fr.>m reel to flv.
There are men who can cast one hundred feet and
more, but here it is needless. I could not do it if it
were needed."

Rose began to think all this a little slow, for a i)as-
tirae. At last Lyndsay, saying, " Drop, Tom," reeled
up his line Avithin a few feet from the long silk leader.
As he gave the word, the lump of l"ad used as an an-
chor was lightly lifted and held well in hand, the
sternman used his paddle, and the boat dropped
some forty feet farther down tlu^ i)ool, and Avas gently
anchored. The stream at this place was more broken,
and was what Tom called " strong Avater."

TT^as

I'f; ■' '

I' 1

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

Tlie cjistinpf business began again, witli no better
result, so tliat Hose, to wlioni it all looked easy enough,
began to find it more pleasant to watifli the shadows
of the hills and the heavy elouds moving overhead.
Mr. Lyndsay was now (uisting some fifty feet of line,
and, as Rose turned, trying to analyze for her own
use the suceession of movements, she was struek with
the graee and easi^ with which the line was recovered
at the end of the east, — sent ai)i)arently Avithout
effoi't direc'tly behind the fisherman, and then with-
out eraek or snap impelled in a straight line to right
or left at an angle from the boat, so that the easting-
line and fly dropped or settltHl lightly on the water;
the fly always maintaining its place at the end of the
east. Then she heard, ** You riz him ! " " We have;
ti(?kled his fancy, Rose, or tempted his curiosity.
Now we have a little game to play. Sonu'times we
wait a few minutes. I rarely do so unless the fish are
scarc^e. Look sharp. Did you see hii:^ rise ? "

'' No."

'' That fish lies in a line with yonder dead i)ine. In
this (piick water the fly buries itself, but as I follow it
with the rod, you can guess its place. Most commonly
a salmon remains in one spot, with his nose up-stream,
and — '

'' Oh ! '' (!ried Rose, as the fly reached the indicated
spot and a swirl in the Avater and a broad back caught
her eye. "Oh! oh!"

*' It has all the charm of gambling," said Mr. Lynd-
say, " without the badness."

" Will he rise again ? "

" Perhaps. Ah, not this time " ; and after a couple
of casts, he said, " Put on a black dose."

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AliE GREEN

2r>

"A what?"

" Our flies luivo nil mjiniicr of qnvov iiaincs. This
is a ' iliirk fly,' quitfi uiiliku tlu^ ln*ij,'ht (hxitor. It inny
tempt him." And at th(f first oust, with tho same
li!iij»;th of line, the peaceful s(H'iie was turned into one
of intense excitement.

" There ! " cried Hose. *' Oh ! " for as the; new fly
rea(^hed the fated spot, there was a suddi'U flash of
white a dozen yards away. The; reel ran out a few
feiit, the rod was lifted and turned over to hrin^; the
winch to the rijiht hand, and the pressure on tho en-
tire length of the bendinj^ rod. The anghir sat down.

Tom meanwhile had called to the bownnin as the
fisii struck, and the anchor was instantly drawn up.
For this brief interval of time the jj^reat salmon
stayed, pausing-. *' Thinking wliat 's wrong," said Lynd-
say. TIk* next instant tlu^ reel sang, and some two
hundred feet of line ran out with in(rredible swiftness.
Far away across the stream a great white thing leaped
high out of the water, as Lyndsay dropped the tip of
his rod to relax the tension of the line.

" How exciting it is ! " cried Rose, as the fish leaped
again. '^ I don't sympathize with the salmon at all ;
I am intent on murdering him."

" Fresh run and clean," said Tom, — " a beauty ! "

The canoe, urged by deft paddles, moved across
the river. The tension relaxing, Lindsay reeled up
line. Then again there was a wild rush up river.

" Tom, quick ! After him ! "

The next moment the line came back, slack.

" Oh ! " cried Rose, " he is gone ! "

"No! no!" shouted Tom. "Reel! reel, sir!" ar""
presently the long, loose line grew tight, for the sal-

WHEN ALL TIIH WOODS AUK OUERN

li'.'

moil had tunicd and mado strai^lit tor the l)oat. Now,
oiHH> more, he bi'okt' watci', thirty fci't away.

"Them loii^ runs tuvs Vm," said Tom, "and thu
jumps tires 'cm morc^ Showed his lu'lly. sir."

Lyndsay now slowly lifted liis rod-tip, throwinj^; it
baek of him, and t-hen lowei'in^- it as lu> iveovered the
line.

'* Take enre, sir!" cried Tom, for once more there
was a tierce, sh(M't dash across, an<l apiin a leiip. This
time tlie fish came in slowly, but surely, and Tom took
his pitf.

*'(^ni voudoit?"

" Yes, sir." The j»aff was in, and the j;reat, tlapi)int''
fish in the boat, and Hose pretty well .splashed with
water as Tom clevci'ly lifted his prey on the pitf-hook.

"A twenty-pounder, Mr. Lyndsay, sure!"

" Well, Hose, how do you like it?"

"Oh, papa, it is splendid!

" Whei'c are Ave j;'oin^r'she added, as the canoe
was run ashore.

" The men will put the .. h under a bush, to be out
of the sun ; and now, what Avei-e you about to ask ? 1
saw a (piestiou ready in your eyes."

"I wish, i)apa — I wish I did not think the fish had
a dreadful tinu'. I have to think of pleasures holding-
the rod and tragedy at tlu; end of the line."

*' Upon my word. Rose, you are emphatic. I can
assure you, my dear, that you may safely keep your
emoticmal statements for another occasion.

"Let me tell you somethinjif. Once when fishing
on the Nipigon, I saw an odd-lookinj^:, very large trout.
He rose every time I cast, ;ind at last took the fly.

' M

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AUE OUEEN

U' caiHH'

Now, wliy tlio snlinoii takes the fly, not Solomon eonld
say, bt'wuise he cuts notliinj>: wliih' in i\\v rivers; l»nt
trout aro i)i^s for jj^rccdinoss. When I loiiketl this
liun^ry trout (»ver, he was still bleeding' from a Ush-
hawk's <'laws, and his intestines and liver were han^;-
inj? in the water. Sueh pain, or injtiry if you like, as
this, does in nuiu utterly destroy appetite and (Miuse
inaction. The infereiu'e is plain enouj^di : fish cannot
]w said to sutfer what we call pain. I on<'e took a
striped bass which had been terribly torn by a ^aff.
On the whole, Hose, I concludt^ that, as we j^o down
the scale of life, tlu're is h'ss and less of what we call
pain, and at last, probably, only somcthinji' nearer to
discomfort or inconvenien«*e."

"Is that so i Then we hold our higher jdnce at the
cost of sulferinj»', which must increase as we ^o on
rising? throujfh \\w aj»'es to come?"

"Yes," said Lyndsay, looking aside with freshened
<'uriosity at this youn«»' lojjiician. " Yes, the rule must
work l)(>th ways. But man alone has the power to
limit, lessen, even annihilate pain. Tlu^ amount of
pain in the civilized world must have been vastly
diminished witiiin forty years, sinc(> we j^'ot ether and
the like."

" And will not that in time lessen our power to en-
dure'? lint then," she added (puckly, '4hat mi^ht be
of less moment if we are alwavs increasini>lv able to
diminish or stop i)ain."

Lyndsay smiled. This alert jxrasp of a subject was
a novel acquisition. As he was adjustinjj: a tly, and
the boat was dropi)in<i: to a new station, slu^ said :

" I hate pain. I don't believe in its usefiUuess.

7W^

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

Iti ?:*!

I'li'i I

I ],:

11. '^1

ill

■.|:
11'

Not for Rose Lyndsay, at least. It only makes me

fVOSS."

" Yet you would hesitate to make a world without
it ? "

" Yes. Oue can see the diffieulties."

'^ The more you think of them the more they mul-
tiply. It is, of course, commonplace to say pain is
protective, and in a sense educative. That one may
admit ; and yet there will still be such a lot of torment
which is natural that one does keep on wonderinjj^
why.''

" Do you remember, Pardy," — this was her nur-
sery name for her father, — "when Mr. Caramel
l)reached about the uses of pain, and said the man
who suffered was ignorantly ri(^h : he had only to
learn to use his wealth ? "

" Oh, very well I remember. As we came out Anne
said she would be glad to be generous with her over-
competence, and wanted to send Mr, Caramel a few
of the crumbs to relieve his too comfortable poverty ! "

'' Yes, only one can't repeat her bits of grim fun,
Pardy; and when she tells Dick a green-apple stomach-
ache is only a joke which he don't understand, you
must see her face and Dick's grimace. — Oh, see how
that fish jumped ! "

" North has a curious notioi) that pain, except for
early protecti\e education, is, iu a measure, useless.
He declares that long bouts of it make men bad."

" Not Aunt Anne, Pardy."

" Oh, a v/oraan ! That is different-."

'• Nor that splendid fellow, Dr. Hall, now — "

*' Bother, Rose! Don't interrupt me. North says

ill

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

■•;

he has seen certam hysterical women get well as to
everything except loss of sense of pain. He knows of
two who are ignorant, at present, of the feeling of pain.
You cannot hurt them. One of them declares that
she would on no account resume the normal state."
"I cannot imagine any one wanting to be so unna-
tural, and she must lose all warnings as to burns and
knocks."

"No, she substitutes intelligent watchfulness for
the sentinel pain."

" I shall never get rid of pain by having hysterics "
said Rose, confidently. '' I can't imagine that."
" Occasion may assist imagination. Take care I "
There is a scornful masculine note in that remark,
su- ! Why do not men have hysterics ? "

"Ask North; he will refer you to Hamlets condi-
tion. Is n't it in Act I, Scene IV, where he gets what
Jack calls 'rattled' about the ghost? North says he
was hysterical. Dr. Shakspere knew his business
But I meant to add that North says there is one case
on record of a man who, in all his life, never knew
what pain was,— had no pain ; could not be hurt in
any way ! "
" How strange ! "

"Yes, but we are losing the shining hours. The
busiest bee could not improve them here "
"No, indeed ! "

"Oh, one word more, and then let us pitch the
horrid thing overboard. I was so puzzled once — I
still am — about this passage in my Aurelius."

"Real or fictitious, Pardy? You are not always
above following Aunt Anne's wicked ways ! "

rtfffr

" t! ii 1

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(
i •(

.■ •).

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

'' Oh, real. He sjiys, ^ There is no dislionor in pain.'
I have r(.'marlveu in my eomnientary that this passage
is not clear."

"But is it not, papa ? He must mean that dishonor
is the worst anguish, and that pain is only an evil to
the body, and that an ache of the soul is worst of all,
and therefore — "

" Only an ill to our grossest part, if we so deter-
mine to limit its efTeets. Is that it, my dear ? "

" I suppose so," said Rose, with some hesitation.
" Yes, that is it."

" But now you shall argue with a flsli. You will he
awkward at first. Here is a lighter rod ; we eall it a
grilse-rod. Tom shall coaeh you, and I will grin at
your failures ! "

" I hate failure ! "

" And I loathe it. But, as the Persian poet says,
'Failure is the child of doul)t, and the grandfather
of success.'"

" Pardy ! Pardy ! " Rose smiled. Those Oriental
(piotations were family properties, and a source of
some bewilderment to the educated stranger.

"Now, dear, see how I hold the rod — lightly.
Yes, so, without tension. Don't lunke too much
physical effort. Let the rod do i'- .share. Don't
insist on doing all, and too mucii ; ourself."

Rose took the rod, and Tom began his lesson. But
the gods were good, and, after a few awkward casts, a
salmon, more eager than his kind, made a mad bolt for
the fly, and was off like a crazy thing, across the stream.

" Turn your rod ! Down ! Sit down ! Tip up !
Up ! That is rare," said Lyndsay. " If that salmon

WHEN ALL THE W(J01)S AKE GREEN

in pain.'
passage

iishonor
1 evil to
st of all,

■;o di'ter-

'ai-f"

3sitatiou.

u will bo

call it a

1 grin at

)oet says,
ludfatlier

Oriental
source of
;er.

— lightly.
;oo niucli
re. Don't
'If."

son. But
rd casts, a
ad bolt for
;)ie stream.

Tip up!
lat salmon

were to keep on running, there would be no salmon
for you. Quick, boys ! " toi- before the anchor was
up, the wild fish had run off two thirds of the reel
N(.w they were away after him at fullest speed.
'• Keel ! reel ! " cried Tom. '' Keel u[) ! "
'' J3ut I am tired ! Oh, I .shall lose him ! "
However, after he had made another run, Rose
began to get in tlie line, then the fish stopped a
moment, and again was away.

Meanwhile, the canoe, in crossing and recrossing,
had come close to the swift water below tlie pool.
" We have got to go down the rapids, sir."
"' Let her go, then. Steady, Rose, keep a strain on
him."

" But I am nearly dead ! "

*' You will come to. Quick! Drop the tip !" for
as they fled down-stream, the boat dancing, the water
splashing in, the poles, now pushing, now snubbing
the canoe, the salmon nnide a leap high in air, and
fell across the taut line, which came l)ack free, while
Rose looked around in disgusted amazement.

''He is gone!" she said.

" Yes. You should hav(; lowered the tip when he
jumped. But think how pleased he is, my dear ' "

''I hate him!" *^

'' He has got half a leader and a good silver doe-
tor," said her father. '^You can cpiote Brownino-
dear, 'The Last Leader.'" '''

" For shame ! I knew those things must be weak.
I would have a good, tliick rope."

[' You would n't take many fish, miss," said Tom,
grinning.

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" What are these wretched leaders made of ? " said
Rose.

" Silk. They drown the silkworm iu vinegar, and
then, cutting out the silk sac, tiike the two ends, and
pull them apart. The silk, for a whole cocoon, is in
a state of thick solution, and is thus pulled out into
one of the numy lengths which we tie to make a
nine-foot leader."

" How curious ! ''

Meanwhile, another leader was well soaked and
adjusted, and Rose began anew. But, although she
(!ast better, no more sal -non rose, and, tired out, she
gave up the rod. Mr. Lyndsay had no better luck,
and, as it was dose to luncih-time, they ran ashore to
pick up their salmon, whicli Tom laid in the canoe
and covered with ferns. Soon again the little vessel
was in the strong current.

" There is no hurry, Tom,"' said Lyndsay ; and so
the canoe, held straight by a guiding paddle, glided
swiftly onward.

'' It is perfect motion, Pardy,— at most, it has the
ease and grace of liight."

'" It makes one envv the fisli."

"Ah, the dear things. I am so glad to be able to
think it really does not hurt tlnMU."

" Hurt 'em ? " said Tom. " They likes it, else why 'd
they want it. They need n't 'less they 're a mind to."

;

)fr' said

egar, and
ends, and
ioon, is in
I out into
3 make a

laked and
iioiigli she
d out, slie
I'ttev luek,
I ashore to
the canoe
ittle vessel

ly ; and so
Idle, glided

, it has the

be able to

else why M
a mind to."

■^

CHAPTER III

S they floated quietly down the river,
close to shore, under birch and beech
and pine and silky tamarack, the
delight of open air, the pleasantness
of the shifting pictures, the delicate,
changeful odors, even the charm
of the motion, were keenly felt by Rose. She was
falling under the subtle magic of this woodland life,
and lazily accepting the unobservant, hal -languid
joy it brought. At last she said :

"Papa, does it take you long to — well, to get
away from your work, so that you can fully enjoy
all this?"

" Three or four days ; not more. I like at once the
feeling that I have nothing I must do. After awhile
the habit of using the mind in some way reasserts
its sway. At home I watch men. It is part of my
stock in the business of the law. Here I readjust my
mind, and it is nature I have learned to watch. I
was not a born observer; I have made myself one.
After a day or two on the water, I begin to notice the
life of the woods ; the birds, the insects. This grows
on me day by day, and, I think, year by year. It is a
very mild form of mental industry, but it suffices to
fill the intervals of time when salmon will not ris."

3 33

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WHEX ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" It is so pleasant to drift ! "

" Yes ; that is the charm of the life. Nobody el-
bows you here ; no rude world jostles your moods.
You may entertain the gentle melancholy of Pense-
roso or the entire idk'ness of Adam before the apple
tempted him. You may be gay and noisy, — no one
is shocked ; and then, the noble freedom of a flannel
shirt and knickerbockers ! Why do we ever go back ?"

*' There is a queer indefiniteness about it all to me,"
said Rose. ''I cannot get into any full — T mean
interested — relation with the life and all there is in
it. I don't say just what I mean."

''I see, Rose: from Rome to this is a long way, — 'a
far cry,' we say in Scotland. Let yourself go. Drift,
as you said."

"Ah," said Rose,

" "T is pleiisant drifting, drifting,

Where tlie shores are shifting, sliiftiug,
And the Dream God has the tiller,
Aud Fancy plies the oar.'

.';

'!i'

It is not always easy to drift, and I ai "ot yet
enough at ease to drift. I fiiul, Pardy, that the
changes at home are very great. I am getting slowly
used to them. The boys seem new creatures. You
are just the same. But mama! I am so sorry for
her."

" That will come right, dear. The mother-wounds
heal slowly. As for me, I own to no discontent about
my boy's death. Most people hold foolish notions as
to death. In my third chapter on Marcus Aurelius, I
have given a history of opinion about death. It has

•I

WPIEN ALL TFIE WOODS ARE GREEN 33

had strange variations. Really, we are very stupid as
to the matter. The old heathen is fine about it:
' Thou hast embarked. Thou hast made the voyage.
Thou art come to shore ; leave the ship. There is no
want of Gods even there.' "

" Yes, but— I did not embark," said Rose. " I was
put on as freight. I — "'

'' How horribly exact you are for a summer day ! I
won't argue with you ; you love it. How quiet it is !
Not a leaf stirs. How completely peaceful! The
drowsiness of noon."

" Yes, it is like 'tlie peace that is past understand-
ing.' I never think of that phrase," she added, after
a ] '.use, " without a little puzzle of mind about it.
Aunt Anne says it is so altogether nice after a mourn-
ful length of sermon ; but Aunt Anne is terrible at
times. I often wonder what people who do not know
her well must think of her. What I mean is — Well,
it is hard to state, Pardy. Is the peace so great that
we have no earthly possibility of apprehending its re-
lief from the unrest of this life f — or that — Don't
you dislike to stumble in thinking? I — it does not
seem to me as if I wanted peace. Is that dreadful ? "
" No, dear. But some day you may, and there are
many kinds. I sometimes crave relief from mere in-
tellectual turmoil. Another yearns after the day
when his endless battle with the sensual shall cease.
One could go on. Perhaps for you, .and for all, the
indefiniteness of the promise is part of the value of its
mystery. That is widely true. You may one day
come to love some man, and to entirely believe in his
promise of love. Yet you will not fully know what

ill

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

that means, — j'ou cannot ; and yet you trust it, for
the inner life after all rests on a system of credits,
as business does. Do you follow nief"

" Yes," she said, with a little doubt. "Yes, I think
I do ; and yet it is not pea e I want, if that means
just merely rest."

" Oh, no ; surely not finality of action. Remember
that with that promise of peace is to come increase of
knowledge of God, which means all knowledge. We
see and hear now the beautiful in nature, and are
troubled by its apparent discords. There the true
harmonies of it all shall be ours to know. It is like
learning the reasons for the music we hear now with
only joy and wonder."

''That may be so. To like or love a person, a
friend, is pleasant ; but to love and also fully to un-
derstand a friend is better. Then one is at ease, one
has true peace, because we have then knowledge with
love."

" That was nicely put, my child, but c .ic can't talk
out in full such subjects as this. One can only sow
seed and trust to the fertilization of time. Where
did you get your quotation about drifting ? "

" I do not know ; Aunt Anne would."

'' Oh, that, of course," said Lyndsay ; " she told us
once that not to know the name of the man you (^uote
is a form of ingratitude : to take the gift and forget
the giver."

" That is so like her: to label want of memory as
intellectual ingratitude."

" When we laughed," said Lyndsay, '' she added that
quotations were mean admissions of our own incapa-

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

;J7

y as.

that
Capa-

city of statement, (luiborne was dining with us, —
you shoukl have heard his coniiiients. You know
how perplexiiijj^ly droll she is at times, and wlien she
is in what the boys eall a 'gale' of merry mind-play."

"It sounds familiar. Aunt Anne is not above re-
peating her jests. I recall it now. She insisted gaily
tliat it is bad manners to call up the spirit of a man,
and accept his contribution to your needs, and then
to say, 'Sorry I forgot your name,' and just show
him to the door of your mind. She is great fun,
sometimes."

"Yes, sometimes. The fun is not always lioneyed.
or — if it looks so — of a sudden the hees crawl out
of it and sting folks; but who can wonder? If it
helps Anne to clap an occasional mustard-i)laster on
me, dear lady, she is welcome."

" Once, Pardy, in Venice, she was in dreadful pain,
and some women got in by mistake. She was per-
fectly delightful to those people. When they went
away, I said, 'Aunty, how much better you are ! ' And
what do you think she replied ? ' You will never
know, dear, whether you have good manners or not
until you have pain for one of your visitors,' and then
she fainted. I never know her to faint, and I was
dreadfully scared."

" She ought to have excused herself," said Lyndsay.
" It was heroic foolishness."

" I suppose it was."

" You need not suppose, — it was ! I hate to think
of how she suffers. Look at yonder lot of firs and
spruce with the gray, green, drooping mosses on them.
After a rain that hillside looks like a great cascade,

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

Yuu see the moss hangs in arrow-hotid shapes, like
those of falling water. It is so hard to set these
simple things in words — you can describe them with
half a dozen pencil-marks. I envy you the power.
I have to sti 3k to my old habit of word-sketches, about
which our friend, tluj doctor, once wrote, as you know.
On Sunday we will have a run up-stream, and a big
wood-and-water chat."

As he spoke the canoe slipped around a little head-
laud, and was at once close to the cliff camp.

" That does u't h)ok very peaceful," cried Rose.
" Oh, they will be killed ! " and she started up.

" Keep still," said her father ; " you will upset us."
What she saw looked grim enough : a tangle of three
boys, rolling down some fifteen feet of graveled
slope; then the three afoot; two or three savage
blows, fierce cries, and a sudden pause, as Lyndsay
called out :

'' Hullo there I — quit that. Jack ! Stop, Ned ! "

Their faces were very red, their clothes covered
with dirt. There was silence and instant obedience.
Mrs. Lyndsay stood imploring at the top of the cliff,
and Anne was standing by with a queer smile on her
face, and her fingers in a book.

" Who began it, boys ? What is it all about?"

Jack spoke first : " Dick hit Ned, and he 's too small
for him, and so I hit Dick."

"He might have let us alone. I 'm as good as
Dick any time," said the slightest of the lads, with
no show of gratitude.

"He said I was a fool," explained Dick. "Ned 's
quite a match, but Jack can't keep out of a row."

T HEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN HO

"And so it was two to one, was it? I can't stand
that: no more flshinj? to-day or to-morrow, Master
Jack."

" Yes, sir."

" And now, wliat was tliis war abont ? "

" Well, Ned he said Claverhouse was a bloody vil-
lain, and I said he was a gallant gentleman, and Ned
said I was a fool."

" That was a difference of sentiment which has cost
blood before," laughed Anne, frori the bluff. Ned
grinned as he wiped a bloody nose.

" Oh, do keep quiet, Anne," said her brother; " this
is my affair. How is it, Ned, and you, Dick ? Is it
settled? If not, there is room back of the hous?.
This fighting before women is not to my taste. But
is all this just as Dick says, Ned ? "

"Why, father, I — I said it." And Dick's face
flushed.

"You are right, sir; I beg pardon. As you seem
indisposed to have it out, shake hands ; but an honest
shake. It must be peace or war ; no sullenness."

"All right, sir. I 'm soriy, Dick."

"I 'm not— very," said Dick; but he put his hand
on Ned's shoulder, and kindly offered a second hand-
kerchief.

"Now, you mad Indians, go and make yourselves
decent. It is time for luncheon."

Rose went up the chff to where Miss Anne still
stood. "I think it is dreadful, most dreadful."

" I used to, my dear, but on the whole it clears the
air, and the boys seem none the worse for it. Jack
is usually the ferment; Dick is hot of temper; and

WHKN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

Nod, my doaiv N(h1, would die on the rack for a
sentiment."

When tlie funiily sat down to the luncheon, a
stranjjfer would have detected no evidijnce of the re-
cent warfare. The mother, once or twice, cast an
anxious look at the slij^ht enlargement of Ned's
nose, hut, to the surju'lse of Rose, what had seemed
to her an ani^rv contest nuide no kind of alteration
in the good humor of the lads. Ned was as usual
silent ; but Dick and Ja(!k were busily discussing the
color of the trout they had taken : some were dark,
some brighter in tint.

It was the good habit of this old-fashioned house-
hold to invite the talk an<l questions of the children.

" You got the blacker •- at Grime's run, near the
mouth," said Mr. Lvndsi , the others in the river
below. Well, what do you make of it?"

" Is n't the bottom dark in the places where the fish
are dark f " said Dick.

" Put it backward," replied his father, " and you
will have a part of the truth."

" But how could that act ? " said Dick;

'' It must act somehow," said Jack.

"Is it the light? "said Ned.

" But light blackens the skin, or heat does," rea-
soned Dick.

" The true cause is curions. It is an action of light
through the eyes, and thence, by the brain pathways,
on to the numberless little pigment-cells of the skin,
which are able to shrink or enlarge, and thus change
the hue of the whole outside of the fish. Blind fish
do not change their hue."

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

for a

eon, a
the re-
tist Ull
Ned's
seeinetl
eration
s usual
iug the
e dark,

[ house-
hildren.
lear the
tie river

the fish

iiud you

»es," rea-

i of light
athways,
the skin,
s change
Jlind fish

" But that is not the way wo get brown," said Rose.

" No, not at all. Sun-tan is not caused by the sun's
heat ; it is an eflPect of the chemical rays."

" A kind of photography, Pardy ? "

" Yes, more complete than you can fancy ; the sun-
light falls nowhere without leaving a record, only we
cannot recover it as we can the photograph of the
camera. In fa(!t, it is probable that every retl(!ction
from everything and onto everything leaves positive
records. It was Professor Draper, I think, who
played with this pretty idea, that, if we had the
means of development, we might thus win back pic-
tures of every event since the world was made."

" I like that" said Anne. " What would one desire
to see if we could recover these lost memorials?"

There was a little pause at this.

" Come, Ned."

" Oh, I 'd want to see old Cromwell when he was
looking at Charles, just lying there dead."

" But he never did see him then," said Jack. " You
would n't have wanted to, Ned, if you had been that
scoundrel."

" Yes, I should," cried Ned ; " I 'd have known then
if I was right."

Anne looked at him aside, with brief curiosity.
He often puzzled her.

" Cromwell a scoundrel ! " he murmured to himself.

'' And you, Jack ? "

"Oh, the cemetery hill at Gettysburg, just when
the rebel line broke ; but " — and his face flushed —
"just to have been there. Tliat would have been
better."

|i'

■ 1 s

!.fii
II, ''

'HI '

^'.■n

'■'!i'

I' '1

!li

■'■?

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

"And what would yoii like to see, Anne?" said
Lyndsay.

" Oh, a hundred things ! " and her eyes lit up. At
last she said, " Yes ; I think if it were only one thing,
I would say, St. Paul on Mars' Hill."

" I think I shall rest content with Anne's choice,"
said Mrs. Lyndsay. "But, ah me, there might be
nianj', many things."

" Dick, it is your turn," said Lyndsay.

"I — I — don't know. Yes, yes. The days of the
great lizards — and things," he added, comprehen-
sively; "and that beast with a brain in liis head and
one in his tail. And, father, may I see the insides of
that salmon ? He has a lot of what the men call sea-
lice on him."

".Certainly. He loses them very soon in fresh
water. It is a sign of a clcnn run lish. Yes, of
course. Do as you like, my boy."

" Mrs. Maybrook was here this n:orning," said Mrs.
Lyndsay. "I was away. You and Anne must see
her. Rose. She is really a personage. I, at least,
have never seen any one like her. She left word that
the little boy was sick at Joe Colkett's, — the upper
clearing, you know, Archie ; and could we do some-
thing to help them ? There is no doctor for fifty
miles. I thought, Rose, you might take some things,
and go over after lunch, and see what it is."

Now, Rose was salmon-bitten, but it was character-
istic that she said at once she would go. A glance at
the mother's face decided her. Anne, who understood
everybody with strange readiness, nodded to her
gently, and Rose had her rev/ard. It is pleasant to

![ !!l

WHEN ALT, THE WOODS ARE GREEN 43

be clearly read by those we love. Then tho chat went
on, gay or grave, but plenty of it, and with ami,lo
«auce of folly.

As the girl went out onto the porch, Lyndsay said
to his sister, " I was sorry for Rose. Her first day of
salmon-fishing. Sometimes my good Margaret is-
well, a little too positive about these confounded
duties. She might — "

"No, Archie. Rose understood her mother Of
course, she did not like it, but she was right, and was
perfectly sweet about it."

"I shall take her up myself, and wait for her," he
went on. " If we start early, she will be in time for
a late cast. Hang the black flies ! - get a smudge,
Tom," he called. " I suppose Margaret is right. EvImi
the simulation of goodness is valuable. Of course
Anne, as Marcus Aurelius said, 'Affect a virtue—'
No, confound it! he says, ^f you have not a vir-
tue, make believe to have it, and by and by you will
have it."

Anne smiled. " I think there is a statute of limita-
tions for some of us."

" Come into my room," he added. " I want to read
you my last chapter. It is on the value of habits.
You can sew if you like."

" Archie ! You never saw me sew in your life. It
is Margaret's resource, :.ot mine. I never could com-
prehend its interest for women. M. A. was a bit
of a prig in my opinion; but, a? to the commen-
tary, look out,— previous experience should have
warned you,— there will be two commentaries," and
she went in after him, laughing.

! '!

II "I

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

As he passed Rose, he said, '' By the way, and to
put your conscience at ease before you fish again,
here is a note-book of mine in which you may see that
while hunting is forbidden to the clergy, fishing is
allowed. The reasons are amusing. Ned or Dick
will help you, but the Latin is easy."

" Walton quotes it," added Lyndsay.

" No, only in part," said Anne.

" You are intolerable. Your literary conscience is
like Margaret's moral exactness. There is no living
with either of you."

"Don't believe him. Rose; but keep for me the
quotation."

She devoured books, and digested them also, with
the aid of a rather too habitual acidity of criticism ;
but what was in them she never forgot.

"Come, now, Archie."

Rose took the note-book and sat down. This was
what she read, from the Decretals of Lyons, 1671:
"Sed quare prohibetur venari, et non piscari? Quia
forte piscatio sine clamore, venatio non ; vel quia ma-
jor est delectatio in venatione ; dum enim quis et in
venatione nihil potest de divinis cogitare." *

" Ambrose speaks of it in like manner in his third
homily, — the old humbug ! " said Miss Rose, over
whose shoulder Dick had been looking.

" I guess they took a sly shot, now and then, at the
king's deer, Rosy Posy."

1 Until within two years, it was lawful to fish on Sunday in
New Yoi'k, but unlawful to shoot.

Iti'

■r*

CHAPTER IV

BOUT three o'clock, as Rose stood by
the canoe in a pretty hot sun, she
saw Ned and Dick making ready for
another trip to the brook.

"Pardy," she said, "do let Jack
go with them."
"It won't be half the fun without Jack," urged
Ned. Lyndsay hesitated. "Well, yes. Rose."

She was away up the steps in a moment, and found
Jack deep in an Arctic voyage.
" You are to gc. Jack," she cried.
" I don't want to."
" That 's a first-class fib."
" Well, I don't want to go."
" Come, Jack ; you hurt luo ; and I asked — "
" By George ! " he cried, " I '11 go."
" You must want to go."
" I do."

" Go and thank Pardy."

Jack stood a moment, and then Rose kissed him.
"Drat you women!" said the youngster, and
walked away and down to the canoes. He went
straight to his father.
" I am very much obliged to yon, sir."
" All right, old man. Off with you."

I i.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

•.111!

" By George, Dick, but M. A. is a gentleman," said
Jack, as the canoe left the beach. " He might have
rubbed it in, and he just did n't."

" How 's your nose, you small poet cuss?" said Dick.
" I cut my knuckles on those sharp teeth of yours.''

" That 's what they 're for. Ruby " ; and so they
were away, singing as they went :

''The king shall enjoy his own again," —

to the amusement of the two Indians.

" I should have sent the Gaspe men," Said Lyndsay
to Rose, as he stood following the canoe with his
eyes. *' If anything happens, they would think first
of the boys, and next of themselves. In Mr. Lo I
have less faith."

"But why?"

"Experience, prejudice, color — distrust. Once I
was on Lake Superior, Rose, in a boat in a storm.
Our two Indian guides simply lay down and wilted.
We could get no help from either. And a curious
thing happened that night. We landed on a beach at
the river of the Evil Manitou. When the Indians
learned that I meant to camp there, they tried to steal
a canoe and run away, explaining that to sleep there
would cause the death of some one of their people. I
could not stand this, because we needed the third
canoe. It ended by our keeping watch, revolver in
hand, all night. When we reached Duluth, an old
Indian — a Chippeway, of course — was waiting to tell
one of my guides that his sister had died that morning."

" What did he say to you, papa 1 "

" Only, ' Me telly you so.' "

WHEN Al.L THE WOODS ARE GREEN 47

**And did n't you feel very, very badly? You
know, dear M. A., you are quite a bit superstitious
yourself."

''As to the first question. No. I was sorry, but —
Get into the canoe —so — facing the bow. I sha'n't
see your face when you talk, and I can fib without
those nice eyes of yours making righteous comments."

''A tefe-a-tefe back to back might have its advan-
tages," she returned, laughing, " for a cmir-ii-coeur at
least, papa."

"■ I trust that is in the dim distance, my child."

'' How serious you are, Pardy!"

He was troubled at times lest this best of his dear
comrades should find another man whom she would
love more than she loved the father-friend.

"And," she went on, " would you have shot the In-
dian if lie liiid taken or tried to take the boat, Pardy ? "

" Oh, no ! The revolver was not loaded. Our An-
glo-Saxon fists would have answered, as we were four
to two."

" But are n't these Indians Catholics!"
" If you mean that religion puts an end to these
little or large superstitions, No. Kismet, the Fates,
our Angle ancestors' Wyrda— the goddess who de-
creed deaths in battle and spared the brave awhile —
she became God for the Christian Angles : then the
will of God, and now the law of God, and for some
the laws of nature. It is only a transmutation of
phrase. We remain fatalists, and change the label."
" But it seems to me," said Rose, " a long way from
Wyrda, who was rather indecisive, I remember, to

changeless law."

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AUE GREEN

" Rose, you are dreadful ! If ever I begin to talk
loosely, down comes Anne or you with your con-
founded rigidity of statement. Don't marry a fool,
Rose, or he and you will have a dreadful time."

'' No, papa, never ! Heaven forbid ! But is n't it
helpful at least to know — "

"You can't drag me any further into these deep

waters to-dav.

' To-day wo give to trifles,
And if to-morrow rifles
The hoiicy tliefts wo won,
At least the pleasant hours
Head down among the flowers,
Swinging jolly in the sun — '

nobody can quite take away. I forget the rest of it."
"I am happy enough, dear Marcus Aurelius, to
dare to be grave. I have a pocketful of moods at
your order.

* Eat, drink, and bo merry,
Dance, sing, and rejoice,
With claret and sherry.
Theorbo and voice.'

For we all shall be past it a hundred years hence."

"I don't know that, Rose. I like to think, with
Anne, that in a world to come

'The angel Laughter spreads her broadest wings.'

We may laugh at other things, but laugh wo shall."
" Dear Aunt Anne ! The angel of laughter ! I

think I can hear him,"

" Just to go back a moment, Rose. You can't talk

out these deeper things. I, at least, must use the pen

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

if I am at all able to discuss them. There never was
truth in text or brief sayings that for me could stand
alone. Even a proverb needs limbs of comment to
get abont usefully among mankind. Books of mere
maxims I detest. Don't ! I see you mean to reply.
Good-by to common sense to-day."

"Aunt Anne was talking last, night," said Rose,
" about the value of nonsense. I think it was apropos
of just the very worst conundrum you ever heard, —
you know what a lot of them the boys have. This
one I have made a solemn vow never to repeat. She
was wondering why the novelists never make people
talk refreshing nonsense the way all really reasonable
folks do sometimes."

"I wonder more. Rose, Avhy they so rarely get
really good talk into their conversations, talk such
as we do hear, gay and grave by turns. Of course
they say of their characters things clever enough."

"That is terribly true, — one tires of the endless
essays about their people. Why not let them say of
one another what is to be said. Aunt Anne says she
hates to have a critical providence forever hovering
about a story."

"A good deal of the personal talk in novels is
needed to carry on the tale. Still, there ought to be
room for doing this in a way to make the talk in
itself amusing at times, and not merely coldly de-
velopmental of character."

" Wait till I write niy novel," cried Rose. " Every
one in it shall be clever,— English clever. It hurts
my sense of the reality of the people in books to be
told they are able, or this and that, and have sense

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

of humor, and then not to find these qualities in
what they say."

"You may have too much of it," he returned.
" The mass of readers are unaccustomed to a selected
world where to want to amuse and interest, and to
be amused, is part, at least, of the social education.
Your book would lack readers, just as George Mere-
dith's books do, where, surely, the people talk enough,
both of brilliant wisdom and as shining wit."

" But they keep me in a state of mental tension ; I
don't like that."

" No. I said there could be too much in a book, in
a novel. These books keep one on a strain. That
may suit some people, some moods, but it is n't what
I read novels for. Now, Cranford is my ideal."

" I knew you would say Cranford, papa. But is n't
it a little too — too photographic? I met in the
Tyrol, papa, a lady who knew many of the people in
Cranford. Did you know it was called Knutsf ord ? "

" Ah, Canute's ford."

"Yes. She told me such an odd thing about
Knutsford. When a bride is on her way to the
church the bridesmaids scatter sand before her, and
this is because when Canute crossed the ford liv^ was
seated on the bank, and getting the sand out of his
shoe, — and just then a bride came over the stepping-
stones; the king cast the sand after her, and said,
' May your offspring be as many as the sands in my
shoe.' Now, is n't that a pretty story f"

" A I'erij pretty story. I shall write it on the blank
page of my Cranford."

" Hullo, Tom J are those bear-tracks ? "

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 51

They were close uow to a sandy beach.

" Yes, aud fresh, too."

"If Jack saw this he would go wild," said Rose.
"Aud the little marks?"

" Them 's cubs. They 've been rouu' here a sight."

As they went on, the hills became higher and more
steep. At their bases lay the wreckage of countless
years, the Avork of ice and heat and storms piled high
along the shores. It was covered with dense green-
ery of beech and birch and poplar. Out of this, in
darker masses, broad columns of tamarack, pine, and
spruce seemed to be climbing the long upper slopes
of the hills which, still higher, lifted gray granite
summits, free of growths.

" How fast do we go ? " said Rose.

"It is good poling on this stream to make three
miles an hour. On the St. Anne there is one ten-mile
stretch which takes all day. Watch the movement
of using the poles. See how graceful it is,— the
strong push, the change of hands, the recovery.
Ah! — " Suddenly the bowman let go his pole,
which Tom seized as it came to the stern.

" Now, that 's a good thing to see. Rose. He caught
it in the rocks, and let it go. If he held it, it would
break, or he go over, and possibly upset us, — no trifle
in these wild waters. It requires instant decision."

" I see. Are n't these the clearings ? "

"Yes."

And now, on the farther side, the hills fell away,
and the stream grew broad and less swift. A wide
alluvial space, dotted with elms, lay to the left, with
here and there the half -hidden smoke of a log-house.

WHEN ALL THK WOODS AUK OREEN

"Boyoud this is u hopeless wilderness, my dear;
and to-morrow, Sunday, we shall go up and look at it.
And you shall draw a little, if you are wicked enough,
and I will make some word sketches." They were
now poling along close to the farther shore.

" Who is that fishing across the river ? ''

" It must be the island camp men."

Rose set her opera-glass and looked. In a moment
she put it down, conscious that the man in the boat
was doing as to her precisely the thing she had done.
She had a queer feeling that she did not like it; why,
she would have been puzzled to say.

*' Who are they? Oh, yes, I remember; you spoke
of them before."

"One is Mr. Oliver EUett. I think he must bo
Oliver Ellett's son. We were at Harvard. The other
is a Mr. Carington."

" He 's an old hand up here. Fished hiere a heap
these years. Casts an awful nice line. Seed him yes-
terday. Shot a seal last week, they was a-tellin' mo."

" I should hate a man that could sh(jot a setd," said
Rose. " They look so human, and, then, they can be
taught to talk. He can't be a nice man."

"Them seals spiles the fishin'. Miss Rose. They
ain't got no business to spile the fishin'. As for them
seals a-talkin', that 's a pretty large story, miss;
whatever, I don't go to doubt you heerd 'em."

"But it is true."

"I 'd like to converse with one," said Tom, in his
most liberal voice. "He 'd git my opinion."

And now the canoe was ashore, and Rose and her
father set out through the woods, and by and by

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

r>3

came upon a nulo cleariiifif and a rough-looking log-
cabin, surrounded with fire-scarred and decaying
stumps. The huge wood-pile, as high as the eaves,
struck Rose.

"How that makes one think of the terrible cold
and the loneliness of winter here, — no books, no corn-
pan; what can they do ? "

" It recalls to me," said Lyudsay, " the curious use of
the word * stove ' in Labrador, where, even more than
here, it is important. You ask how many people there
are, say, at Mingan ? The reply is sure to be, ' Oh,
there are twenty-seven stoves.' But how many people ?
* T don't know; there are twenty-seven stovcM.'"

At the open door Lyndsay knocked, and in a
moment came through the gloom within a tail, sallow
woman. A soiled and much-mended brown gingham
gown hung down from broad but lean shoulders over
hips as lean and large. As she came to the door, she
hastily Inittoned her dress awry across the fleshless
meagerness of her figure.

" How do you do, Mrs. Colkett ? " said Lyndsay.

'* Now, ain't it Mr. Lyndsay ? I 'm that wore out I
did n't know you. Set down"; and she wiped a chair
and a rickety stool with the skirt of her gown. '* I
did n't know you, sir, till you came to speak. Was
you wantin' Joe ? "

''No; we came over because Dorothy Maybrook
left word your boy was sick. This is my daughter
Rose. We brought some lemons and other trifles.
The little man might like them."

As she turned, Rose took note of the unkempt hair,
the slight stoop of the woman's unusually tall figure,

f54

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

and tho slioclcsa, uncovered, and distoi't(!d feet. Not
loss tho dosoluto, oomfortloss cabin cau^lit her eye, —
the rude wooden furniture, and the bed, whence came
the Iioarse breathing of tho sick child. To her sur-
prise, Mrs. Colkett said :

"Dory 3Iaybrook 's always a-fussin' over other
folks' concerns, 'stead of niindin' her own p^ Irs."

Lyndsay, who was standing beside Rose, looked
up at the woman.

'' I think," he said, " Dorothy is incapable oi want-
ing to be other than kind."

" S'pose so. She might of let on she was goin'
a-beggin' "

'^Oh, ii was not that," cried Rose, bewildered by
the woman's mode of receiving a kindness.

" Dare say : maybe not. All tho same, me and
Joe ain't never asked no favors. Set down, miss."

'*Xo, t^puk you," returned Rose, and began to
empty her basket of fniii and other luxuries.

"We cn'jio oveiy' said Lyiulsay, "because my wife
tiioug]».t you might need help."

" It nin'l nu use. It was n't never no use. That
boy 's a-gom' like the rest."

" I trust not so bad as that."

" Yes ; he 's a-goin' like them others."

" You have lost other children ? " said Rose, gently,
looking up as she cleared the basket.

"Yes; two, and he 's the last. They had n't no
great timti while they was ,'ilive, and now they 're
lyiu' out in the wood, and no more mark over 'em
than if they was dead drit;,s. Vliere won't no one
care.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE (JUEEN 5D

"Yes, I shall (lare; I do fijirc, Mrs. Colkett. Oh,
is n't it hard to say why siu^h thiii«,'s do hiippcirr'

'* Happen ! " said the woman. " Dorothy, she says
Uod took them ehihlren. I 'd like to know why ^
Preachin' 's easy business. God! What do I know
about God, ex(!ept that ho 's done nothin' for mef
And I 'ni to be thankful, — what for?" As she spoke
a hoarse sound eame from the bed. " For that poor
little man a-eroakin' there, I suppose ! "

As Rose was about to reply, her father touched
lier arm, and, understandin<>' that argument was thus
hinted to be unwise, she said:

" Let me see the little fellow? "

" You nuiy, if you 've a mind. 'T ain't no good.
When it is n't any good, it is n't any good, and
that 's all there is to it."

Rose went up to the bed. A sickening odor filled the
close air. She saw beneath her a stout little boy of ten,
hot and dusky red with fever, his lips purple, two small
hands tightly locked, with the thumbs in the palms,
the head, soaked with the death-sweat, rolling rhyth-
micallv from side to side. The woman followed her.

" Has he had any one to see him ?" said Lyndsay.

"Yes. We had a doctor from down river. He
came twice. He was n't no use. He took 'most all
the money we had left."

" We shall be glad to help you."

" Much obliged, sir. It 's only to bury him now.
There 's one mercy anyways, — it don't cost much for
funerals up here. It 's just get a preacher and dig a
hole and my man to make a box. Thank you, all the
same.''

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

I I

Here was poverty so brutal in its results that even
the pretense of sentiment was absent. Rose was
troubled. Before her was death, and it was new to
her. She turned to her father. " Oh, can't some-
thing be done?"

He tried a moment with unprofessional awkward-
ness to find the pulse. There was none he could feel.
"What did the doctor say ? What is the matter with
the boy, Mrs. Colkett?"

" He left some medicine stuff ; but laws ! the child
could n't take it. The doctor he says it 's diphthery,
or something like that. I don't rightly know. It
don't matter none."

All this was said in a slow monotone, as if, Rose
thought, — almost as if the woman, the mother, had
been an uninterested spectator. After a pause she
added, in the same slow voice :

"If he 's goin' he '11 go, and that 's all there is of it."

At the word diphtheria, Lyndsay recoiled, pushing-
Rose back from the bed. "Harry!" he exclaimed.
" It was that ! Go out. Rose ! Go at once ! "

" Lord, is it ketchin' ? " said the woman, shrinkin;?
back from the bed. "That fool never said so. If
I 'm to git it, I guess the mischief 's done. If Joe he
gits it, Hiram '11 have to make the box."

" Come away. Rose."

The girl was divided between horror and pity. At
the door she turned.

" I ara not afraid. Let me stay, father, - 1 must
stay ! "

"No; it is useless, and might be worse than use-
less." As she obeyed him, a short, squat figure of a

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 57

man coming into the doorway darkened the dimly lit
room. He moved aside as Rose went ont into the
Sim Lyndsay went by him also, and the man, turn-
ing back, said, - It 's about all over, I guess. We We

end of troubles."

'' Co^^ie this way," returned Lyndsay. -And you,
Kose, wait by the fence."

He saw but too clearly that the stout, ruddy little
man had been taking whisky. Joe Colkett followed
him.

"Good Lord, my man, that child is dying,- will
be dead, I am sure, before night; and here you are in
liquor just when that poor woman most wants help "
I ain't that drunk I can't do chores. Fact is Mr
Lyndsay, I went down to ask Dory Maybrook jus' to
lend me a little money. That doctor he took most
all my wood wage." 1

"Well?"

" She would n't do it "

"Well?"

" She said she 'd come up and help, an' if my old
woman wanted any she might have it. That ain't no
way to treat a man."

"No," said Lyndsay, with such emphasis as satis-
hed his own conscience, and also the duller sense
of the lumberman. "No,- that is not the way to
treat a man. Listen to me, Joe : Don't drink any
more." ^

"I ain't any," said Joe.
"Really?"

1 Money earned by lumbering in the winter woods.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

I i

li'i

'' Not a drop. It was just a bit I had left."

" Come to me when it is all over, and I will pay the
doctor's bill, and you can help clear oif the brush
back of my cabin."

" Thank you, sir."

" You don't drink often, I think. Why should you
now ? "Was it trouble — about your child ? "

" He was n't my child."

" What ! " exclaimed Lyndsay, puzzled ; " how is
that ? "

*^ My wife was a widder, you see, and them Avas all
her first man's ; I never had no child. 'T ain't like it
Avas my own child. He was awful spiled, that boy.
I licked him two weeks this Sunday comin' for makin'
fire by the wood-pile. Gosh, what a row Susie did
make ! "

" My God ! " exclaimed Lyndsay.

The man understood him well enough.

"Oh, I don't go to say I did n't like him none.
Lord, I 'd done most anything to git that boy well.
I wanted that money to help put him undergi-ound.
It don't cost much burjdn' up here, but it ain't to be
done for nothin', and you 've got to look ahead.
There 's the minister 's got to be fetched, and —
and—"

Here the man sat down on a stump, and putting a
palm on each temple and an elbow on each knee,
looked silently down at his mother earth.

Respect for the moods of men is one of the deli-
cacies of the best manners. Lyndsay was still a
minute. Then he put a hand on Joe's shouldet*.

"How else can we help you?"

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 59

"It 's my woman I 'm a-thinkin' of." He spoke
without looking up. " This thing 's the last and the
wust,-it 's goin' to down her awful. And there ain't
nothin I can do,-nothin'!" Here he passed his
sleeve across his eyes, and then glanced at the unac-
eustonied moisture, and had a dulled remembrance
ot having cried long years before; he failed to recall
why or just when.

" You 're a-thinkin' I 'm a mean man to be a-drinkin'

and that child a-dyin' in yon ; and that woman ! That's

where it gits a man. I ain't been a bad man to her •

I vo took care of them children right along, Mr'

Lyndsay, and I never beat her none, and I don't mind

me I ever used no bad words to her, not when I was

wore out, and -and -had n't a shillin', and was

busted up with blaekleg.i I don't git it clear, sir-

1 dont cjire most none for that child, but she might

kdl me If It would git it well. I don't see nothiiAo

do but drink, and that 's the fact."

Lyndsay stood silent in thought. He had seen
enough of life not to wonder that drink could be dis
tmctly regarded as, under stress of circumstances, an
available resource. Ho had also seen men or women
cjT.able of a single affection, and of only one. What
there was to know of this man's relations to his wife
and her offspring had been uncovered with frank bru
tc.lity. He had said there was nothing for him except
to drink. ^

I' But if you love your wife, my man, you want to
help her, and if you drink you are useless,- and in
fact, you add to her troubles." '

1 The scurvy of the lumberman,- more rare nowadays.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GEEEN

Vi-

"It ain't that, sir. Fact is, she don't care a'most

none for

and there 's the truth. You

id n't

WOUi

think, sir, what a pretty woman she was. She took
me to get them children a home and feed. Dory, she
knows. I ain't given to tellin' it round, but you 're
different. Somehow it helps a man to say things
out."

Here was the strange hurt of a limited tenderness,
with all this rudeness of self-disclosure, and, too,
some of the stupid, careless immodesty of drink.

" I take it kindly," said Lyudsay, " that you have
told me the whole of your troubles. Come over and
see me. I left some tobacco on the table for you."

"Much obliged, sir," and, rising, Joe took Mr.
Lyndsay's offered hand. "I '11 come," he said, and
walked back toward the cabin, while Lyndsay, beck-
oning to Rose, turned into the ox-road which led to
the shore.

For a while they were silent. Then he said, " This
child is dying of a fever ; no word of the diphtheria
to your mother or even to Anne."

" One can escape mama easily, but Aunt Anne is a
relentless questioner."

" I will speak to her."

" That would be better, I think. How horrible it
all was ! And that woman ! Do you think she really
did not care ! "

" No, no, dear. Imagine a life of constant poverty,
utter want of means, — to-day's wages meaning to-
morrow's bread ; a cruel soil ; a mortgaged farm at
that ; then one child after another dying ; the help-
lessness of want of money ; the utter lack of all re-

r
k

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN (51

sources; the lonely, meager life. This woman has
the moral disease of one long, unchanging monotony
of despair."

"I see — I see — you know more, and that makes
you forgive more."

"Some one has said, Rose, that to be able to explain
all is to be able to forgive all, and that only One can
truly explain all."

"It seems to me, Pardy, that poverty has more
temptations in it than wealth, and more explanations
of sin, too. Is n't the man a brute, Pardy ? He had
been drinking, and to drink at such a time ! "

"No; he is coarse, but not a bad fellow. You or T
would have much we could turn to if trouble came
upon us. This man has nothing. It does not sur-
prise me that he drank. It is not his habit. But let
us drop it all now. I am sorry I took you." He was
not unwise enough to speak of the anguish of dread
which had possessed him as he stood by the bedside,
and now made haste to add, "And yet the lesson was
a good one. You won't want to fish, I fear?" He
had in some ways appreciative touch of his kind, and
knew the daughter well.

" No, no ; not to-day. Let us go home."
"As you please, dear"; and they slid away swiftly
down the gleaming water as the evening shadows
crept across the stream.

After awhile Rose said, looking up, "You must
have seen, oh, so many people die, Pardy."

"Yes; Death was for four years a constant com-
rade. I had always a firm belief I would not be
killed. Some men were always predicting their

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AHE CJKEEN

:'.

own (lojitlis; others carefully uvoided the question.
I know one very givllant fellow who was always a
gay comrade in camp, and almost abnormally merry
in battle unless the fight took place on a day of the
month which was an odd uumber. Then he was sure
to think he would be killed. Men in war mv. like
gamblers, and have queer notions as to luck. You
knew that child was dy:ng?"

"Yes."

" How did you know it ? "

" I cannot tell. What troubled me, Pardy, was —
I think what troubled me— was the loneliness of
death; that little fellow going away and away, all
bv himself."

" Yes, dear.

' Once, onee only, lovo imist drop tho hand of love ! ' "

'• But Avhat a horrible woman ! I can't help think-
ing that."

" Was she ? Perhaps ; I don't know." His charity
was older than hers.

''Did you notice. Rose, her sad fatalism: if the
child was to die, it would die?"

"Yes; it was a strange illustration of our talk."

CHAPTER V

K liave so far lieard little of Mrs.
Lymlsay; but, in fact, slie was
usually more felt than heard in the
every-day life of the household.
Archibald Lyndsay said, '' She had
but one defect, and that was not a
fault. She was so entirely good that she lacked all
human opi)ortunity for the exercise of repentance."

'' There is no credit to be had in this world, my
dear, for monotony of virtue," said Anne Lyndsay.
'' When you do some of your sweet, nice things, that
cost you no end of trouble, people merely say, ' Oh,
yes, Margaret Lyndsay ! but she likes to do that kind
of thing.' For my part I prefer that wise mixture
of vice and virtue which gives variety of flavor to
life, and now and then adds the unexpected."

This was said at breakfast on Sunday morning,
the day after Rose had seen the dying lad, who now
lay quiet in the dismal cabin where the mother sat
angrily brooding over her loss.

Lyndsay had spoken of some pleasant act of
thoughtful kindness on the part of his wife ; and as
Anne, iiughing, made her comment, Margaret had
shaken a menacing finger at her kindly critic, savin"-
quietly :

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" Oh, I think we aro very much alike, Anne " j at
which there was a general outbreak of mirth, for
these people were much given to laughter.

Lyndsay declared that he had observed the re-
semblance.

" And the boys inherit our goodness," added Anne,
demurely. "At least, it seemed to me I had evi-
dence of it pretty early to-day ; but then the hymn
says, ^ Let boys delight to bark and bite.' I disre-
j'lember the rest, as Peter, our cook, says." At this
Xed gave his aunt's gown a gentle pull, by way of
respectfully intimating that she was getting them
into difficulties.

" * Let ' is permissive," she went on. " I was not
really disturbed, Archie"; for her brother was now
curiously regarding a rather distinct scratch on Dick's
ruddy cheek.

" Raspberry thorns, Dicky 1. " he said, maliciously.

"No, sir."

"Sleep-cats," said Anne. "That was always our
nursery explanation."

"What then? Another row? I thought we had
had enough for a week."

" And on Sunday morning, Dick ! " said the mother.
" I would n't."

Anne looked up, amused at this latter declaration.

" Never mind, Margaret," said her husband. " What
was it about, boys ? "

"Oh, it was n't much of a row. It was only a
scrimmage," said Dic]r. "Ned said King James cut
off Raleigh's head because he would smoke tobacco.
Did you ever hear such nonsense?"

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AliE (HtEEN 05

"But Aunt Anne told nio King James wrote a
book against smoking,— did n't you, aunt?" urged
the snudler lad.

" And I said it was ridiculous," cried Dick.

" And Jack he up and said it was n't, because if he
was a king, and people did n't do as he wanted, he
would ciit off their heads, like that," said Ned, knock-
ing off the end of an egg, by way of illustration.

''And so we had a nielley," remarked Jack. ''It
was n't much, and that 's all there was of it. I don't
see why people make such a fuss."

"Suppose you let this suffice for the day, you
rascals," said Mr. Lyndsay.

"Yes, sir." ,

" And it was n't Raleigh who brought tobacco to
England, was it, Aunt Anne?" said Ned. "I told
Dick it was Ilnvvkins, and he would n't believe nie.
I saw it in — "

"Where?''

Ned hesitated. His habit of lying on his stomach
on the floor in the long winter afternoons, with some
monstrous quarto, was matter for unending chaff on
the part of the twins.

"Where was it, old Book Gobbler?" cried Dick.
"Where was it?"

" It was in Ilollinshead's CUironicles," returned the
lad, coloring.

"You are right," said Aunt Anne. "You would
do better to read a little more yourself, Jack, than to
laugh at Ned."

" What 's the use, if I am going to West Point? "
said Jack.

WIIExX ALl. THE WOUDS AKE (JUEEN

" You will iiud out, I taney, wlieu you j^'ct there,"
romiirked Kose. " I am told it is dreadful."

" Well, there 's time eiiou{4:li to think about it," rn-
turued Jaek, with his usual philosophieal ealm. "I
wish it was n't Sunday. Oh, dear ! " and he groaned
in anticipation of the dullness of the day.

" Jack ! ' exclaimed the mother. *' Oh, Jack ! "

"Well, you <%'iii't g'o to ehun^li, and there 's no fish-
ing; and, mother, you know you don't like us to rend
novels on Sunday, and I 've read voyages until I
know all there arc up here, — and I don't see what a
fellow is to do."

" T shall road the service before you all s(!atter."

'' W' ', that does n't take hmg."^

As a means of passing the linu', this device of her
sister-in-law enormously delighted Anne. " I confess
to a certain amount of syni])arhy with the unem-
ployed. It is a SabWath lockout."

Margaret turned on her with abruptness; but
Lyndsay said, quickly:

" My dear Anne, this is Margaret's business. Keep
out of other folks' small wa rs. Vou are as l)ad as Jack."

"That is true, Archie. I am a conversatiomd free
lance. I beg pardon, Margaret. I will never, never
do it again."

" Not until the next time," returned Mrs, Lyndsay,
with unusual ascerbity. " It is really of no nu)inent,"
she added, " but I like to manage the boys myself."

" You are right. I was wrong to meddle,"

" I propose," said Lymlsaj^, " that the two Gaspe
mer shall take you fellows up the Arrapedia. You
wiU find it hard work if they let you pole, and you

WHEN ALL TIIK WOODS AliE UKKEN

(17

(iiiii't, <li()Wii tliero if you try ; uiul the bhick fli<'s,
inosquitos, and luidgcH will iimk(^ you niiseniblc.
And, Jack, conic liciv, — nearer. This in your car:
at the second bend there is an old clearing", iind under
the oaves of the cabin — now, don't let it out — there
is a mighty nest of hornets. I recommend it to your
attention. I owe th«'m a grudg-e."

Jack's face flushed with joy.

" Thank you, sir."

i^lrs. Jjyndsay siud, '' What is it, Archie ? ''

"■ Oil, nothing ; a little secret between Jack the
(riant Killer and his })!i." Lyndsny had a pretty dis-
tinct notion that fighting hornets as a Sunday dis-
traction would not be altogether to his wife's taste.

'' Don't tell, Jack,"

'' No, sir."

" Honor bright! "

" All right, sir."

" Won't you tell us ? " asked Ned of his father.

'' No."

'* But I have an irresistible curiositv," said the bov.

" And I have an impeneti-able resolution to hold
niv tongue. You are to sail under sealed or<lers."
One of his delights was to offer problems to this
sturdy young intellect. '' Suppose, sir," — and he put
the old scholiast question, — " If the impenetrable
were to meet the irresistible, what would happen ? "

" That would be a row," said Jack.

Ned had a deep dislike to being beaten by these ab-
surd (luestions. His detestation of intellectual defeat
was as deep as his brother's disgust at physical dis-
comfiture. He hesitated, flushed, and replied:

WIIKN AM. TlIK WOODS AUK (JUIOEN

" Tt coiiM n't be at nil, i'iUluM', lu!causo it siiys in tlu>,
Bible tlmt tlu; vvoi'ld will be destroyed, and, if tliere
wan an impenetrable, that eoidd n't be at all, — I say it
could tCt be."

" Shade of CUnifneins ! " exclaimed Anne.

" But suppose."

" I eaii't." He had a sense of wrath at the «[uestion.
At last he said, " You might as we^^ ask a fellow
what would happen if the impossible met the incom-
prehensible."

" Glory ! what dictionary words ! " cried Dick.

''Pretty well, old feUow," said Lyndsay, huighiny-
as they rose.

'' Oh, I hate things likc^ that."

" Rose, Rose, put some lunch in a basket. We
shall nnike a day of it. We will take the skitt' and
Tom. Put my note-book and pencils in tlie b.isket,
and your sketch-book ; and don't forget m\ field-glass.
Won't you come, Margaret ? ''

''No; I am going to Mrs. Maybrook's this moaning,
and, Archie, I want Hiram to attend to something :it
the chiu'ch where Harry is. Don't trouble about uie."

" Anne, won't you come with us ? "

"No; I am not good for all day. I shall go and
have a talk with Mrs. Maybrook this afternoon. If I
lie down until then, I may manage it. Margaret says
it sweetens one for a week to see that woman. I
mean to try the recipe."

"I am getting very curious about her," said Rose;
"and there is so much to do, and I nnist catch a
salmon to-morrow."

" We kill salmon," said LAudsav.

WIIKX AIJi TIIK WUODH AWK (iUKHN

(l!)

" B«it y<m ciitch tlicm with w pole and a line."

"No; Ihcy catoli tlKiiUHolves; and we call it, ii rod,
miss, please."

''Yes, Mareiis Aui'diiis."

"At ten o'eloek, saiiee-boxj and j^-et your wits in
order."

" Ay, ay, sir ! " and she touelied her forehead and
went to He('ur(^ tlicii" lunoh.

Anne took a ])ook, as usual, and went out to lie
under thoporeh in a haninioek. The l)oats jyot away,
and still she lay <[uiet. Delicate of features, the
mouth and lar^'e jJi'ray eyes her only heauties; her
nose; tine, l)ut laru'i; for the rest of her face, and aipii-
liue; her forehead sc^uare, with a mass of l)rown hair
set too hi^h al)()\e its pallor for ^'ood h)oks, perhaps
justified the eoinnion notion that Anne Lyntlsay
never had been even pretty. Years of pain and en-
durance had lesseniMl, not increased, her natui'al irri-
tal)ility, and ^iven to her face an expression of singu-
lar force. It may be added that she was a trifle vain
of the small hands and feet which she, like all of her
['-'"I '^'> possessed.

.'i> she lay at more than usual ease, dreamily hapi)y
as he noti(H'd the sun, the shadows, and the far-
K-;' cliing: curves of the river, she saw a dugout,
,• hat in the North is called a pirogue,^ put out from
the farther bank. A wonum stood in the stern and
urged it across the swift current with notable
strength and dexterity. Presently it ran onto the
beach, and Dorothy Maybrook came up the steps, a
basket in her iiand.

1 Si>aiii8h, inriacjim.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

As to most things, all books, and people in general,
Anne Lyndsay had a highly vitalized curiosity ; but,
as to this woman, it was more eager than usual. She
was mildly skeptical as to the fact that the wife of a
small Quaker farmer, illy educated, and, of course,
without the tact which makes sympathy acceptable,
could have been what Margaret Lyndsay said this
woman had been to her in the last summer's trial.
Anne was apt to distrust Mrs. Lyndsay's unwonted
enthusiasms. Also, this invalid lady was very demo-
cratic in theor}', but by nature's decree an aristocrat,
whether she would or not. Thus, Anne Lvndsav
was now a little on her guard, and more curious than
she would have liked to have been thought.

But when, as Dorothy Maybrook advanced, a pair
of large gray eyes came into the horizon of another
pair almost as luminous, Anne, as she afterward ex-
plained, felt something akin to fascination. She made
up her mind as Mrs. Maybrook approached that her
facial expression was one of strange purity of repose.
The next moment Miss Anne cast a foot over the
hammock's edge, and made an effort to rise, in order
to greet the new-comer. But to get out of a ham-
mock with ease is not given to mortals to achieve
without much practice, and as all rapid movements
were sure to summon at once her unrelenting enemy,
pain, she fell back with a low exclamation, wrung
from her by pain so extreme that she was quite un-
prepared. Sudden anger stirred within her, because
she had so plainly betrayed her feelings to one who
had been described to her as full of sympathy and
almost incredibly competent to notice the peculiari-

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE aREEN

ties of men and things. If this woman should dare
to pity her, in words or with looks !

"Good morning. Mrs. Maybrook, I am sure. I
am Miss Lyndsay," said Miss Anne, in her most tran-
quil voice, and it was capable of many tones.

Said Dorothy to herself, " That woman is n't long
for this world." What she said aloud was :

" Yes, I 'm Dorothy Maybrook. I brought over
some wild strawberries for Mrs. Lyndsay. They 're
very early, but there 's a sort of little nest right
back of our clearing, and the sun gets in there con-
stant,— seems as if it could n't ever get out,— and it
hatches the berries two weeks before they 're done
blooming anywhere else."

" Thank you," said Anne, who was making a diffi-
cult effort to catch with the foot outside of the ham-
mock a slipper lost in the foiled attempt to rise.

Mrs. Maybrook set down the berries, and without
a word went on her knees, took the dainty slipper,
lifted the foot, bestowed a glance of swift curiosity
upon it as she put on the slipper, and gently replaced
the foot in the hammock.

"Sakes alive ! If I was a man, I 'd just say it 's
beautiful. Being a woman, I 'd like to know how
you walk on them?"

" Oh, I don't very much ; not nowadays," returned
Anne, smiling. " Thank you."

It was a neat little shot, although quite unconscious
of aim. Miss Anne tried to think she disliked both
the help and the outspoken admiration. 8he made a
feeble eflPort to generalize the compliment, and so to
get away from its personal application :

WHEN ALL THE WOODH AKE GREEN

h '

" It 's a family failiiiu", Mrs. Maybrook. Even our
iiieii have absurdly small liiiiids and feet. I should
have offered you a camp-ehair. Get one, please, out
of the house. I am ipiite ineapable of helping' any
one, — even myself." Mrs. Maybrook did as Anne
desired, and sat down.

"Mj' sister-in-law was g'oing to see you to-day.
Shall I eall lierf She muoL be in her room."

" Oh, there 's time enough. That 's the only thing
we have a plenty of up here. We ain't time-starved,
I can tell you." Anne began to be interested. Quaint-
ness of phrase was a thing so rare. For a few
minutes she had been struggling with one of her few
weaknesses. At last slu! gave way :

" Excuse me, but would you be ^:o kind as to put
the basket of strawberries in the house ? The sun
will spoil them."

" Oh, but the sun is good for them. They won't
take any hurt."

" But I shall. The fact is, when I was a girl I was
picking strawberries in the White Hills, and a snake —
oh, a rattlesnake — struck at me. I have been ever
since unal)le to endure the odor of strawberries. I
think it becomes worse as I grow more feeble. It is
ver}' absurd." She was absolutely pleading her
weakness to this simple woman, and had ceased for
the time to be self-critical.

Mrs. Maybrook rose, and without more words, after
carrying the basket to the cook's house, returned
around the cabin to her seat facing Miss Anne. The
smile she wore as she came back would usually have
been taken by Anne for vulgar comment on her own

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

display of what might, wiih reason, have been taken
for i)aro affectation. Now it struck Anne .is being like
her own liabit of smiling largo, or smiling small, as
she said, nt some humorous aspect of the passing hour.

'' What amuses you f " she (queried pleasantly.

" Oh, I was just a-thinking you might feel about
those berries like Mrs. Eve might of felt when she
was eomiiig on in years and one of her grandchildren
fetched her a nice, red a])i)le. Giiess he got warmed
for it. Sandals might have come handy in big
families, those days ! "

Anne looked up, laughing gaily, and noting by the
exception how rarely Mrs. May brook failed in her
grammar.

'' Delightful ! Now I feel historically justified. Are
there any snakes here ? •'

" Oh, no ; none to Imrt. But, bless me, I never can
hear about snakes without thinking of Sairy Kitchins."

"And what was that?" said Miss Lyndsay, enjoy-
ing talk with a mind as fresh and unconventional as
her guest's.

'* Oh, it ain't much. You see, I 've had asthma so
bad that Hii-am and me, since the children are gone,
we have traveled here and there, trying to find a
place Avhere I would n't have it."

" Have vou suffered much ? " said Anne.

"Yes, — (j[uite my share. But there are worse
things."

" That is so."

" Hiram and me get along most anywhere, yfe
Imvo a bit of money, — not overmuch. We are both
pretty handy, and once we tried it two years doi/]if

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

:!fi

South, at Marysville, iu Alabanio. That was a right
nice place for snakes."

" Gracious Heaveus ! You talk as if you liked
theui."

" Well, they 're handsome, and brave, and don't
want to hurt you ; and how many men can you say
that about ? "

" A fair defense," said Anne ; '' but what of Sairy
Kitchins f I love a story ; I am like a child."

''Well, I'^airy she had just come that spring. She
was the wife of one of them Methodist preachers that
don't be let to bide long anywhere, — the kind that
goes about the land seeking whom they may devour.
As I came along tlie road with her there was a six-
foot rattler lying right across in the sun. Down went
Sairy on her knees. ' Good lands ! ' said I, ' what 's
the good prayin' to that reptile? A whole camp-
meeting could n't convert him.' Well, we could n't
get by liim, and so I got a good, big stick of live oak,
and fetclied him a crack 0:1 the head, and one or two
more to make sure. Then I said, ' Come along, Sairy ;
he won't sin any more; if that fool of a woman, Eve,
had had any sense, and a live-oak stick handy, there
would n't have been no need of you and me going to
meeting this hot dav.'"

" I should think not," cried Anne, laughing. " And
what did Sairy say? I am quite on her side."

" Oh, she told her husband, and I got prayed over a
heap. It 's amazing how clear those preachers see the
sins of otlier people."

" I think it a delightful story. I shall tell the boys
to-night. I have n't laughed as much in a month."

WHEN AI.L THE WOOD;:} ARE GREEN

" Dear me ! tt must be ten o'clock," suK\ Ml-s. Atay-
brook, looking up at the sun, *' and I must .see Mrs.
Lyndsay, and go home to cook Tlirain's dinner. But
I would like to see the house. You know last year
they tented. When I was here yesterday no one was
about, and so I did not go in to look. I was dying to
see it."

Anne smiled. '' Help me a little."

The hand she met with hers was strong, well-mod-
eled, and — if tanned by sun, and showing signs of
toil in th(! broken nails — was, like the gown, scrupu-
lously clean. Dorothy wore no head-cover, and her
hair, which was fine and abundant, lay in fiat, old-
fashioned style on her temples, and was caught back
in an ample and perfectly neat coil. Agaiii, as Anne
rose, the look of repose on Dorothy's face, and also
the absence of lines of care, struck her no less than
the regularity of features. There was none of the
slouch of labor ; Dorothy sat erect, without t(niching
the back of the chair ; a woman of fifty or over, and
still keeping many of the gracious curves of feminine
maturitv.

But what interested Anne most in Mrs. Maybrook
as they moved about the room — which was hall,
dining-room, and sitt'ng-room — was her simple plea-
sure in tlie white curtains Mrs. Lyndsay had tied up
with gay ribbons, the cane seats, and the covers of
light Eastern stuffs, not very remarkable or costly,
but, as it seemed, pleasing to the visitor. Anne
thought she would have noticed the books, but of
these she made no mention, albeit the collection was
odd enough, because every one had brought what

7(5

VVIIKN ALL THE WOODS AUK (SKKKN

i-ir

Mi(\v liked, {iiul tluv ch^vcrly built 'oook-slirlvcs I'ioiTO
liiid iiiiidc were rull lo ovcrllo'.v.

N'c'i'v soon Mrs, Lyndsjiy appciU'cd, j^'iivo tJio visitor
;i more lliaii iisiiiilly Wiirui vvclconu', iii»d lit hist uskcd
about tho Colkc'Us and Ihc ciiild.

'• It died last ni^ylit," said Mrs. Maybrook. '' [ was
uj) llu'i'o pretty cai-ly to-day. Tlit>y 're au't'nl liard
I'olks to help any; it 's like scttinji^ up ten-j)ins, and
down tlu'v <>(), in a minute. Ilii-am says tliey have n't
any ' uilalonfi'ativeness.' Thai 's a ^'reat word with
Ilirnin."'

" Do lliey want help .' What is there we can do?"
said ^Irs. Lyndsay.

" I would n't know to tell you. Oh, dear, if I was
that man, T 'd drink, too."

*'No! No!"

"Yes, 1 'd driid< ! Ibi did, some, yesterday; l)ut
I judge he 's taken none sineo Mr. Lyndsay was
there. The I'aet is, Mrs. Lvndsav, Susan (\)lkett
eariHl more for t1ios(> children of hers than for her
tirst man or Colkett, or anybody else, except herself.
She 's just savau'C now, like a bear that has had its
<'ubs taken away. And the worst of it is, she has n't
i^ot tlie means of wisdom in her, and n«»ver had, or
else she 'd Iiave seen you can't live in a pii;'sty aiul
bi'inc: lip livo children. Oh ! You were asking if
they want anythinj^'?"

^'\\>s, Dorothy."

"Well, ^\v. Carinc^ton lie went over yesterday
afternoon. T <>'uess he took the short cut or he would
have met Mr. Lyndsay cominu' out. Mr. Carinji,'ton
must be a pretty nice man. There 's not many as

1^ II

WFfKN AlJi TIIK WOODS Al;K (IIJKKN

y<)uii,n- would j^ivo up S!itiii"<lii,y jiflcriKtoii lisliinj^r,
(^voii u bit of it, to ^o iind sec uhoiit u sick hral.
FislKn-incn 's j,'ciionilly rij^lit scllish. II(^ left tliciii
twx'iity (lolhirs. But lie liud tlio liioh-uj) senses to
j,nvo it to Susie. He 's a well set-up young- uian ; I
saw him poling- a pirogues airross. It takes a lot of
.judg-nMiiit in a man's legs to liaiullc! a dugout."

" I»ut you do it well, I faiK^y," said Aune.

*' Yes, but I 'm a woman."

"(Jood," said Miss Lyndsay, and went out, leaving
the otlun-s to tjilk alone.

Then Dorothy said, "What troubles that wom.in
tlu! most you could n't think, not if you lived as long
as Noah."

"And what is it?"

" It 's b(!eaus!) there won't be; any tombstone.
They '!•(! all buried iji the wood ))iu;k of the cabin.
Poor little kitt<'ns, just dead drownded in filth. She
liJid better have thought more foi* them wOien they
were alive."

'' I will speak to Mr. Lyndsay a)»out it."

"It would b(^ just that nuuih wasted."

"Money is well wasted sometinu's. You might
think of the box of ointnumt, Dorothy."

"It 's a long^ way between them two wastings."

" Perhaps. I don't know. W(! shall see."

" Well, I must go and cook Hiram's dinner, (lood-
by." And she went out and down to her dugout.

" What do you think of her, Anne ? " said Mrs. Lynd-
say, as the maiden lady came out of her own room.

" I think her most interesting, and altogether a
remarkable person."

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GKEEN

"A heart of ^old!" said Mrs. Lyiulsay. "You
uuunot iuiagiuc, Aiiiit', what that woman was to me
last sum 11101'."

"I can, — I think I can now." Mrs. Lyndsay went
back to some househokl occupation, and Anne, re-
turning to her hammock, lay thoughtfully watching
the retreating pirogue and its capable guide, and
smiling ever as was her habit.

Then slie spoke aloud :

"That l)eats' Marcus Aurelius. To have ^)st all
her children, to have had sickness, — poverty, and not
a wrinkle to record it all. That woman must have
the self-contentment of a first-chiss angi'l. Ah, me ! "
And she turned again to the " Life of John, Lord
Lawrence," and was soon smiling over it, for in her
heroic lives found glad and ready recognition.

CHAPTER VI

HE light Gaspe canoe sped away up
sti'caTri close to the shores, with
Archibald Lyiidsay and Rose. They
were contentedly (piiet for an hour
or more, and at last left behind them
the island eanip and its white tents,
and then the last of the clearings and the lower
alluvial meadow\s with their richly feathered elms.
As they went on, the hills were more abrupt ami
closer to the river, or precipitous past the poAver of
the hardiest pines to find more than here and there
a foothold.

And now Lyndsay langhod, and Rose, curious,
inquired why.

"I was thinking' of the boys"; and he told her
of the hornets' nest.

'' I don't think tin; dear mother will like it," said
Rose.

" Perhaps,— oh, assuredly not ; but what on earth
can one do with three young steam-engines ? "

"It 's very, very dreadful, papa, and do not tellj
but I w(mld like to bo present at the siege of the
hornets' nest. It must be awfully good fun."

"What was that you saidf"

"I said awfully good fun. And also I desire to

WHEN ALL THK WOODS AHK (JUEKN

j((!

add that tliis is inv day, and I shall say what I ploasc,
do what I please, talk slang and bad jjjraniniai' by the
yard if I want to."

"As you like, — I make but one condition: there is to
be none of tl\at wading into deep waters of which you
and Anne are so fond. I get enough of that at home,
in my work. This is to be a tree-and-water day. I
want to push on first up to the burnt lands. Some
twenty years ago the upper country was burned off,
so that, between the hills and the river are long
abrupt slopes with low underbrush and millions of
dead trees. The tops of the hills are also covered
with the same mighty stubble."

" But that cannot be beautiful."

'^ No and yes. I fished above there one year, and
for some days I found the desolation most oppressive.
Then, one evening, I saw something in these gray
dead trees, and ever since I have seen in them more
and ir.ore that is strange or even beautiful."

'' I think I have felt like that at times, — as if of a
sudden I had become another person, and saw with
strange eyes. Once we were looking at Ruysdael's
pictures ; it was at Amsterdam, and Aunt Anne said
how delightful it would be just in a moment to see
the world of things as a great master does, or the
world of meii as a poet may."

" What spirit made me his own I do not know, my
dear," said Lyndsay ; '*but, if he fled, he left me some
permanent property. There is a bit of St. Clair's
verse which puts it fairly."

''Anditis — Pardyr'

WHEN AI.L TIIH WOODS AUK (lUKKN

1?^

"I think I can rcpetit it, but 1 am never sure about
uiy quotations :

' ir from tho vantago of thy wiser lioart

I could look out oil uatviro through thiiio oycs,

I think that I shouM learn a novel ax't,
Ami joyful capture some divine surpriHc.

The tiny morrow of the opening rose,

With kindred conimont of thy genius viewed,

Might to love's wisdom eagerly disclose
Tho mystery of some new beatitude.'

Perhaps you will like iny dead trees at first sight."

" I ean hardly fauey that."

" Oh, you may. The afternoon is the time for the
water. The black flies are pretty thick, Kose, eh?"

'' They don't trouble nic/' she returned. " I can't
say why. They bite, and that is all."

*'I never could account for the exceptions," he said,
" Ned is tormented by them, and they hardly touch
Jack."

" How (nirious ! "

" Yes. Mv own foes are- the sand-flies, what are
called by the Indians ' no-see-ums,' and in Pennsyl-
vania puugies. I brought a little smudge-pot and a
small A-tent, just to give you shelter at need." Mean-
while the poles rang ceaselessly, and the talk went on.

" I think, Pardy, the landscape under the water is
almost as attractive as that above it. The stones
seem to be all colors, and, I suppose, all shapes, be-
cause they play such queer tricks with the water.
I never noticed until yesterday that when a wave

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(716) •72-4503

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

rolls over a large, smooth rock it takes perfectly the
form of a shell, — I think I mean a scallop-shell."

"That is so, Rose. There, over there, is an ex-
ample. I think it a very pretty idea, — one might be
ingeniously poetical about it, but one won't."

By and by the stream stretched out shallow and
broad, and the men took their paddles. Then they
turned a sharp angle oi the river and came among
the burnt lands. Here and there a few great trees
had strangely survived the fire, and towered high,
green cones among the ruin.

*' I can see no beauty in it," said Rose.

" I said it was strange, interesting, and had certain
beauties. Wait a little. Land us on the island,
Tom, — at the upper end. There will be more air.
There is a good bit of grass and a spring near by."

Pretty soon the tent was up, and the smudge-pot,
full of cedar bark, lighted. There was some wind,
however, and the flies were not annoying.

" But what am I to sketch ? "

" Let us sit in the opening of the tent. And now,
my pipe. Let us first consider. Rosy, the eccentrici-
ties of these burnt trees. I want a sketch of some
of them."

"Why are they not black? I see very few that
are charred."

"Ask Tom, — it will amuse you." She did so.

" Them trees, when there 's a fire, and there ain't
too many pines and firs, the fire it just eats up their
leaves and scorches their hides."

" Bark ? "

"Yes; and the winds and the frost and the sun.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AEE GREEN

tliey peels off the dead hides. After that them trees
lasts powerful long. But if the bark be on, they
rots."

"What I want just now, Rose, is to get you to
look at those few isolated skeletons of dead trees on
the point. There are many as odd in the wood-
tangle below, but these above you can more readily
sketch for me, because they stand by themselves.
We will come back to the rest by and by."

" Oh, my dear, dear M. A., what a fine master you
are ! I used to long for you, and that book we were
to write, on the 'Art of Seeing.' "

" Yes, I have taught myself to see. While you are
sketching I will lecture a little."

" And just what do you wish me to draw ? "

" Take your field-glass and look at the trees on the
point. Now, the one at the edge, — look at it ; I do
not want to tell you about it, I want you to see."

" Well," said Rose, talking as she sat in the tent-
shadow, the glass at her eyes, "I see a tall dead
tree, — a fir I No, a dead spruce, — probably a spruce,
I am not sure. It is gray, and has only two great
limbs left, and a tuft of dead twigs above — and —
the trunk is oddly twisted to the left."

"Now you are getting warm, as the children say.
Hey, Rose!"

" I see," she cried, with a real joy in her mind ;
and, taking her pencil, swiftly drew the desolate
dead thing, while Lyndsay looked on.

" Good ! " he said ; " very good. You have it pre-
cisely. I will make a word-sketch, and we will com-
pare work. I can't draw a straight line, as you know.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

I conceive of the other world, not entirely as a place
to develop our own qualities, but where there will be
a pleasant interchange of capacities. There, my dear,
I shall sing like Nilsson and paint like Velasquez."

"I think I could myself make some pleasant ex-
changes," said Rose. " Those stiff lines of the dead
branchless firs and pines, set against that dark
cloud, — they i-emind me of the lances in that great
picture by Velasquez at Madrid, — the Surrender of
Breda. I loved the two men in that picture. Reque-
sens is taking the keys of the town from Don John
of Nassau, and he is just saying, ' Might have hap-
pened to any fellow, — so sorry for you !!' You know,
papa?"

"No, I do not. But I recall Macbeth's etching
of the picture. Go on with your sketch. Mine will
be done in a few minutes."

Then he wrote in his note-book again, glancing
now and then at the tree.

" Listen, Rose. How is this? * Tree sketch: dead
tree; no bark; cool gray all over; stands alone on
point of land. Trunk twisted; only two limbs;
bunched end- twigs. Limbs raised like arms.' Now,
if — mind, if it says to you — I mean if it has for
you a distinct expression — I hate affectation here
and everywhere: but if this distorted thing really
expresses for you — something — label it!"

Rose was still a moment, and then said, "It is
rooted there, still, alone. It seems to be turning
back toward its fellows. It suggests to me utter
dreariness. What have you found to say about it,
Pardy?"

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

ice

jar,

ex-
lead
iarli
;reat
jr of
jque-
John

hap-
aiow,

celling
le "will

ancing

: dead

one on

limbs ;

Now,

Bias for

DTI here

really

'at is
turning
ae utter
ibout it,

" See, dear, I have written, as I often do at the end
of a word-sketch : * Loneliness, suffering ; isolated
anguish, if you like.'"

" I see. How very, very interesting ! It seems to
remember the fire, father." It was sometimes this,
and sometimes Pardy, or Marcus Aurelius, or any
queer pet-name of nursery origin.

" You begin to see what one may get out of a dead
tree?"

" Yes. There is another, below,— just below."

" Yes ; I sketched it last year. Here it is : ' Dead
tree; poplar; split by lightning; black and gray.
The lower half thrown out like a leg. Above, one
limb has fallen against the trunk ; top of tree tufted
and thrown back. Queer expression of jollity.' Sketch
it, dear.

" How ready you are ! " he said, over her shoulder.
" Look at the one farther away, — bent back with two
gi'eat limbs high in air. It is prayer, deprecation —
dread : I am not sure, — and again, before you draw
it, look across to the other side. This is my sketch.
* Late twilight ; a huge, gray rock in the water.
Deep cleft in it; out of this rises a dead pine. It
leans toward me. Two vast limbs extended right
and left. Top tufted as usual, and bent to one side.
All set against a bleak mass of boulders.'"

'* I see, even in this light ; but at dusk ! at dusk
it must be terrible, — a crucifixion ! "

" Yes, that is it. It recalls to me an odd thing.
A few years ago I was fishing as late as ten o'clock
at night on the Metapedia, and, looking up, saw on
the hill above me a cross pet against the blood-red,

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

newly rison moon. Next morning I perceived that it
wais only a telegrapli-polo with its cross-bar."

" What a theme for Heine ! " said Rose.

" Yes, indeed. Now sketch me this, and the other
trees. I want only jnst mere hints of form. There
are no end of strange things among dead trees. I
could not exhanst them in hours of description.
There was last year a fallen tree on an ishind near
our camp. I supi)ose the mass of stuff sent down by
freshets protected it below, and tlie ice and so on swept
away the branches which lay uppermost. At last the
wreckage was washed off. When I came on it at
evening it looked like one of those prehistoric lizards
Dicky delights in. There were many legs on each side
as it lay and — "

" Do let me see, Pardy. You drew it ! " and she
laughed. " I don't think it would go into the Salon.
There ought to be a place for embryo art like this."

" Like ' Rejected Addresses ' ? "

" Yes ; the real ones."

" Do you frame yours. Rose f "

" Oh, for shame ! "

"Who rose to that fly?"

" But you coldly planned it. It was base."

" Poor thing ! " lie laughed —

" The wail of the salmon
A mati tried to gammon.

Alas, poor Rose ! "

" Wait a bit. As Jack says, * That drawing is

. '"

unique

" I am quite proud of it. I wanted to give you the

WHKN ALL TJIE WOODS AliK OltEEN

losson. Now I will sirioko and talk and take miuo
ease, while you draw."

" 1 can talk and sketch, too."

" No doubt. On the Nipigon River there is a long
carry once burned over. After the fit'e must have
come a windfall. The whole blasted forest went down
before it. It lies to-day a grim tangle of gray or black
trunks, with huge agonized arms extended upward.
At dusk it is very striking. Years went by, and then
I saw the dead Confederates lying below Round Top
the day after the fight, with arms and legs in rigid
extension, — a most horrible memory. As I looked, it
recalled that wrecked forest."

" How dreadful, Pardy ! I think I could draw those
trees as you describe them. I will try to-morrow."

Meanwhile, as she sketched, he went on :

" The growth of power to see is a curiously interest-
ing thing. There is a disease or disorder called ' mind-
blindness,' about which the dostor was telling me a
few weeks ago. People who have it see things only
as a mirror sees, and cannot give them names ; but if
they touch or handle them, are able to say what they
are, or to tell their uses. Think, now, of a baby. It
merely sees things as a mirror sees. Later, it learns
the qualities of things seen, remembers them, learns
to group them, and so to say at last what the thing
is, or is for. Some people seem to stop in their educa-
tion a little way beyond their baby gains, and at
least never learn to get out of mere observation
any pleasure."

" But one may make many uses of this power to
see. Now, the poets — "

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" stop a moment. The poets get an absurd amount
of credit for being able to see as other men do not f
but, really, the pleasantest people for a woodland
walk are those naturalists who see far moi-e than the
poet, and combine with their science, or have with it,
the love of things for the mere beauty in them. I
never did walk with a poet in a wood. I think I
should see all he saw."

" But not the same way."

" I would dispute that, if you mean to say I get less
pleasure, Rose. And there is some nonsense in the
notion that poets are very close observers of nature.
They vary, of course. Take "Wordsworth, he was a
mere child in minute observation compared to Shak-
spere. Tennyson is better, too, — oh, by far; and any
clever naturalist sees far more than any one of them."

" And now, I know, Pardy, you are going to advise
me to read Ruskin, because that is the way you always
used to wind up our talks."

" I was, dear."

'' I must try him again. Aunt Anne says we grow
up to the stature of certain books as we get older, and
at last can look them in the eyes and say, ' We under-
stand one another.' As to what you say of Words-
wortu, I shall ask her what she thinks."

"We shall not differ," said Lyndsay. "I see you
have done your sketch. Let us have lunch. After-
ward, if there is time, we can take a look at these
trees when the evening shadows are falling. We
have by no means done with them."

Meanwhile Tom and his bowman had made the fire.
The salmon was deliciously broiled, for these wood-

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

the fire,
wood-

men are nearly all good cooks ; the potatoes roasted
in the hot ashes ; the bacon, broiled with the salmon,
in thin slices, brown and crisp. Rose thought there
could be no meal like this. It was set out on a flat
rock, with birch-bark for plates. The spring was a
little way back of them.

" Let us go for the water ourselves," said Lyndsay.

They walked down the island a hundred yards, and
there, in deep woods, found two rocks fallen together,
and under them a pretty little rise of water, bubbling
up out of the earth.

"That is really a spring," said Rose. ''One uses
words until one forgets to think of their meaning.
How cold it is!"

" Yes 38°, — and delicious." He twisted a bit of red
birch-bark into a cup, and put a split twig at each end
to keep it together. Then he filled it, and she drank,
throwing her hair back with one hand, and flashing
laughter over the brim of the cup from eyes the color
of which has never been rightly settled to this day.

" More lunch, Rose ? "

" A little jam and a biscuit."

Archibald Lyndsay lit a pipe and lay upon his back
on the meager grasses, with hands clasped behind his
head. His eyes wandered from the clouds overhead
to Rose, and thence to wood or stream.

"The coui-t has dined, M. A.," she said. "What
now?"

" I am afraid," he returned, " it is too late for you
to sketch in colors the trees, or even a bit of them.
I wanted to get your notion of the tints ; but look at
this — I am not quite sure I myself see colors at their

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GR13EN

true values. There is no standard in which to try
our sense of color. I am sure some men see a tint
bright, and some see it darker, and then some artists
are sensational in their statement of colors on canvas."

" I should like to try."

" We are a little too late ; but the sun is back of
us yet. That is essential. Now, keep in shadow,
and tell mo the color of those sun-lit myriads of dead
pine and fir and spruce and poplar."

" How they shine ! "

" Yes ; they are very hard, and polished by storm
and sun. They are about a hundred yards distant.
Near by they are silvery-gray. At their feet is a
mass of young birch and beech, and feathered ferns
below, along the margin."

"They are purple, — clear, distinct purple," said
Rose. " Of course, they are purple."

"Yes. Now look at the river." All between the
two observers and the trees was a swift flow of
hastening water, faintly fretted all over by the un-
derlying brown and gray and white stones of the
bottom, — a tremulous brown mirror.

"Oh, the beautiful things !" cried Rose. "Purple
reflections, — deeper purple than the trees. How they
wriggle ! "

" Put me the two purples on paper."

" There ! " she said, " that is as I see them."

" And I," he returned, — " for me they should be a
much deeper, purer tint. That is the difference be-
tween your color sense and mine."

• Is it true, Pardy, that there may be colors no man
has seen ? ''

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

"Yes."

" And sounds no man has heard ? "

"Yes."

" * Heard sounds are sweet, but sounds unheard are
sweeter.' "

"Your quotation sets one's imagination free to
rove. Think of extending the gamut of human
thought. I cannot imagine that; and, as to your
poet, he did not mean, I suppose, the sounds man
never heard are sweeter ; but then one has his free-
dom of interpreting the words of genius. They al-
ways build better than they know."

"Aunt Anne says that is so beautifully illustrated
by the view a man of science would take to-day of
St. Paul's words : * The eye cannot say to the hand,
I have no need of thee.' "

" The point is well taken, as we lawyers say. But
that must do for to-day. Come, Tom, you and Bill
can smoke your pipes in the middle of the skiff. Put
Miss Rose in the bow, J will take the stern."

" And am I to paddle ? What fun ! "

" Yes. In with you." And the boat fled away down
the swift waters, with here and there, where the bil-
lows rolled high over a deeply hidden rock, a wild
roller which swept them on as with the rush of a bird
through space, while Rose laughed out the joy of a
great delight, for of all modes of motion this is the
most satisfying.

"It is n't difficult," she said.

" No, and it is a noble exercise. Look ! Look, Rose !
See that hawk, — no, it is an eagle. Don't you envy
him ? What are those lines Anne loves to quote about

I n

,1 I

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

the hawk and the lark 1 They are called * True Cap-
tivity.' "

" I forget all but the last two lines. It contrasts
the two prisoners, and says of the lark :

'Ho has the heaven which ho Hinffs,
But my poor hawk has only wings.'"

" Thank you. There used to be an imprisoned hawk
in a cage at the lower clearing. The melancholy of
his great yellow eyes so troubled mo that I bought
him, and, to Churchman's amazement, opened his
cage. The poor old warrior walked out, looked
around him, and then walked back again into volun-
tary captivity."

" Like the man of the Bastille."

"Yes. I shut the cage and took it down to the
river. There I left it, open. Next day I saw him
perched above it on a dead tamarack, swinging in a
wild wind. The day after he was gone."

" I wonder if he regrets the cage and the certainty
of full diet."

" Ah ! liberty is very sweet. I sometimes wonder
whether, when this earthly cage is opened, we shall
linger about it like my hawk."

For a time they speed onward, silent, as the shadows
grew across the waters. Said Lyndsay, at length:
" One more thing to note : the sun is down, but see
how that huge array of gleaming, seried tree-trunks,
away up on the hilltops, takes the light we have lost."

Rose looked, and saw on the far summits that the
multitudinous tree-stems were of a lovely lem* u yel-

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AUE GREEN 93

low and below, where their lines crossed at the inter-
cepting angles of two slopes, of a pallid lilac

'a think we have learned to nse our eyes to-dav.
No need to paddle here. Take a rest. We are going
at the rate of five miles an hour."

In the gathering dusk they flitted past the cunn,-

fli-es on he island, and soon were at their cabin door.

«hall I ever have another day like tliis ? " snid

Rose, as she ran up the steps. - Thank you, Pardv "

•

HEN they entered the cabin, Dick
was diligently counting a beetle's
legs, — a process the animal seemed
to resent. Ned, at a window, was
staring at the falling shadows on
the farther hills, and Jack, at the
door, was deep in a gruesome book of adventures by
sea and land.

The boys rose as Lyndsay entered.
"Gracious!" exclaimed Rose, observing their swol-
len faces. " You have not gotten off without honora-
ble wounds." Jack's face was a testimonial of valor.
'^ You seem to have found it lively."
'' It was galumptious."
"What? "cried Rose.

" Oh, I was n't going to run. Those fellows, they
ran. I think they're — "
" What ? " broke in Dick.

"None of that," said Lyndsay. "I suppose the
hornets did not have a very pleasing time."
" They licked us," said Ned.
" That 's because — "

" Hush," said Lyndsay, laughing. " I presume
there are enough left for another time ? "

" Archie, how could you ? " said Mrs. Lyndsay. " I
shall be glad to get these boys home alive."

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

Dick
ietle's
setned
r^ was
m on.
at the
res by

Lv swol-
honora-
f valov.

ws, they

the

Isay.

" Oh, we are all right/' cried the twins ; and they
went gaily to supper, and before long to bed.

When Rose got up next day it was raining ; the sky
gray, and the waters inky black. She was reassured
at breakfast by her father, and told to get her water-
proof and high boots, and be ready for a salmon after
breakfast. Again Miss Anne was on hand, declaring
that she had not felt as well for a year, and they fell
to planning their day's amusements. The squirrels
tempted Jack and his gun. Dick and Ned were to
fish the upper pool, and Anne and the mother, as they
desired, were to be left to their own devices.

" But, Kose," said the latter, " you must see Mrs.
Maybrook."

"If we get any salmon, I might take her one, or
one of the men might carry it this afternoon. I am
very curious about this paragon. I don't believe
much in perfection, mama."

" I did not say she was that. Rose. Dorothy May-
brook is my friend."

*^ Is n't that putting it rather strongly, mama ? A
woman in her class of life can scarcely — "

" Nevertheless, she is my friend."

" That answers all questions," said Lyndsay.

" No," said Anne, "not until one knows your defini-
tion of friend. What is a friend ? "

" A fellow that will fight for you," said Jack.

" Then Sullivan or the * Tipton Slasher ' would be
the best friend," remarked Ned.

'^ A fellow you like," said Dick.

"How is it, Ned?" said Lyndsay. "What is a
friend ? "

■(

! i

;

Ei'

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" I don't know," replied Ned, coloring as usual. "I
would want a lot of them."

" There is something in that," said Anne. " I never
fouTid any one human being who, at all times and
under all stress of needs, was able to give me every-
thing I want of man or woman."

" I think with you, Anne," returned Lyndsay. " I
never could quite comprehend those all-satisfying
alliances one reads about, those friend-love affairs,
such as Shakspere had with Herbert, or whoever it
was. Certainly some men, and not always those who
have most to give, intellectually, at least, have, as was
said of a dead friend of mine, a genius for friendship.
Wherever he went, men became attached to him, —
they could hardly say why."

" How do you explain it ? " said Rose.

"He was quick of temper, cultivated, but not a
profound man, — unselfish. I think it must have
been chiefly because he took a large and unfailing
interest in other men's pursuits, and was not troubled
if they made no return in kind. He gave interest
and affection, being easily pleased, and exacted no
return. But it always came."

" I should have said he had a talent for friendship.
Genius is a large word," said Anne.

"Yes; it was only an unusual capacity, — not
genius."

" But what is genius ? " said Rose.

"You are getting out of my depth!" cried Mrs.
Lyndsay, laughing. "I shall want a life-preserver
pretty soon, Archie."

" I can only quote Marcus Aurelius," said Lyndsay.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

;ual. "I

" I never
imes and
ne every-

dsay. "I
satisfying
VG affairs,
vhoever it
those who
ive, as was
friendship,
to him,—

but not a
must have
unfailing
ot troubled
ve interest
exacted no

friendship.

Lacity,— not

r cried Mrs.
life-preserver

lid Lyndsay.

"He remarks — what is it he says about genius,
Anne?"

" No, no. "We want something fresh, Pardy."

"A fine way to clap an extinguisher on wisdom."

" But I want — I do want an answer."

" Shall we say that genius is crude creative power ?
How will that do r'

" That is better than usual, Aurelius," cried Anne.
'^ It needs talent to come to anything. It would be
easy to illustrate. There is Blake at one end, and —
well — Shakspere at the other."

" May we go f " said Jack, yawning fearfully.

" Yes, of course. What a sight you are ! "

" They must have been good shots."

" Oh, they did well," said Ned, " and it was worse
than bullets. They don't get inside your pantaloons
and skirmish around. I 'm very uncomfortable when
I sit down."

" How can one die better, etc. ! " cried Dick, and,
riotously laughing, they ran out of doors. Margaret
looked after them affectionately.

" Do you remember, Archie, how you used to have
an unending tale for those boys when they were little,
of Tommy Turnip, and how he ran away, and went
to Russia, and was made Count Turnipsky!"

"I do, indeed, my dear. It went on for years.
Come, Rose, I sha'n't rest until you have killed a
salmon. If it rains hard all day the water will rise,
and then good-by salmon until it begins to fall."

Is that so?"

" Yes. The salmon is a mysterious creature. We
know little about him; but we do know that with

[ I

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' 1

I :

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

rising water, or rapidly rising warmth of water, he
seems to lose curiosity as to flies. Come along."

' I think ray own curiosity collapses in hot weather,"
said Anne.

There was now a steady fall of rain, but, well pro-
tected, they reached the pool.

" How black the water is ! " said Rose. Tom sat
quiet without the least cover, and took the ducking
as if it were a matter of course. Now he adjusted a
rather large Jock Scott. Then Rose began to cast,
while Lyndsay sat behind her and smoked.

"Could n't I stand?" she said.

''Yes. You will cast better, and take care you
don't catch the handle of the reel in your wraps.
Give the back cast a little more time. Count one,
two, three quickly. You do very well. You will
soon get the trick of it."

"You riz him!" roared Tom, for there was a
mighty swash, and half a salmon came into view.

" Sit down. Wait a little."

" Will he — do you think he will rise again ?"

" If I knew, dear, it would sav e much needless cast-
ing. Will a young man propose twice, thrice ? Wlio
can say?"

" I fail, sir, to perceive the analogy."

" My dear Rose, the too logical mind is destructive
of the very foundations of social gaiety. Young
man rises to a fly; salmon rises to a fly."

" But no right-minded woman casts a fly over. Oh,
they just — you know."

" No, I don't. Both the fish and the man have the
right of choice ; but there is some responsibility as

iiii

water, lie

ilong."
weather,"

, well pro-
Tom sat
le ducking
adiusted a
;an to cast,
ed.

:e care you
your wraps.
' Count one,
I You will

there was a
te into view.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

ainl"

>cdless cast-
lirice? Wlio

n«

is destructive
liiety. Younfe

fly."

fly over. Oh,

man have the
sponsihility as

to the attractiveness of a Jock Scott, or a Durham
fanger. So, after all, the young man's anguish may
be the fault of the wicked milliner. As a question of
morals one likes to know."

" But will he — will he come back ?"

" Really, Rose, that was worthy of Sarah Siddons.
It might have been said of the most attractive of
my sex."

" Bother the men, papa ; I want my fish. What is
a man to a salmon ! '

" I recognize that assertion of personal ownership
as distinctively feminine."

" You are too bad. How it pours ! "

" Try him again. Cast out to right, and let the fly
come down, around the tail of the boat, with not too
much movement, just as if you were quite indifferent ;
an ordinary, every-day promenade, my dear. The
application is, you see, of skill acquired in one branch
of industry to the cultivation of another."

Of a sudden the reel ran out a little.

" Poor young man ! Sit down. Keep the tip up, so."

The fly had been tranquilly taken under water, this
time with no show of indecision. Rose obeyed the
advice, and for a moment sat expectant, the rod well
bent. The delay on the part of the salmon was so
great that she could not understand it.

" It must be fast on something. It does n't move,"

'' No, the young man is n't quite sure as to what is
the matter. He is reflecting. Are Cupid's arrows
barbed, my dear ? There ! "

" Oh ! " — for the reel ran out so fast as to make a
distinct musical note, and, in a moment, Rose saw

■ I

III

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i ^

100

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

the salmon iiaLli iiigli in the air near the farther bank.

" That cou't be my young man."

" Yes. Reel, reel quick."

Meanwhile it was up anchor and away, the instant
the fish struck. The men shared Rose's excitement,
and watched the quick movements of the fish with
admirable understanding of when to wait or to follow.
The rapid reeling in Rose found hard work.

" I do think you must take the rod," she said.

" No," he cried, laughing. " I prefer not to have
the r<.!sponsibility of other folks' flirtatic us. He won't
carrv on this way very long."

But again he was off, and this time not so far.
Then he leaped twic*. , with mighty splashings of the
water. Meanwhile Tom was carefully getting his
canoe out of the heavy current, and Rose found that
the salmon was slowly yielding to the steady strain
of the rod. They were now near the bank, and in an
eddy.

"Look sharp, Rose," said Mr. Lyndsay. "Give
him the butt."

"What?"'

"Yes. Keep the tip back and the butt forward.
As the fish yields reel in a little, dropping the tip.
That 's right. Now, you can lift him, as it were, by
throwing the butt forward again, so. Reel! reel!
Well handled."

" He 's a-comin'," said Tom. " He are a buster."

She could but just perceive her fish, — a dark, sha-
dowy thing, — a few feet away. Now he sees the man
with his gaff, and is off on a short run ; and again is
slowly reeled in.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

101

bauk.

instant
Ltemcnt,
Lsli witli
o follow.

Lid.

, to bavo

He won't

)t so far.
igs of the
etting lii^
found that
ady strain
. and in an

ly-

" Give

-t forward.

[ng the tip.
it were, by
ieel! reel!

buster."
[a dark, sha-
]ees the man

ind again is

" Something must break," said Rose.

"No, you can't pull more than two pounds, my
dear, do as you may. It seems to you a vast strain.
There, keep his head up-stream. Well done. Let
him drop back a little."

As he spoke, Tom made a quick movement and
gaffed his fish. In a moment it was in the boat, and
Rose sank back delighted.

" Here is the scale, Tom."

Tom held up the fish, with the scale-hook in the
gill-cover,

" Thir — ty — two — pounds, miss."

" Do let me see," she said, and examined her captive
with curiosity.

" A flue 5'oung man, by the neb of his lower jaw,"
said her father, " You don't like tha gaffing : I saw
that. Be assured that lingering hours of slow exhaus-
tion in the nets at the mouth of the river are far worse.
You could let the fish go; you could refrain from
fishing ; you need not eat salmon ; several ways are
open to the sensitive."

" I am very foolish, I dare say."

"There is some folly that is nearer heaven than
some wisdom, my child. If this folly is incapable of
reasoning defense, it is still not one to be ashamed of.
We may over-cultivate our sensibilities so as, at last,
to become Brahminical in our abhorrence of any de-
struction of life. The argument as to need for ani-
mal flesh is hardly a help. Men, in fact, nations, live
without it; and it is quite possible that we have in
time more or less manufactured both the appetite and
the need for this diet. Our nearest anatomical kins-

102

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

men, the monkeys, are all vegetarians, and as for any
necessity to kill salmon or deer, there is nowadays
none. Both are mere luxuries of the rich. Not a
soul on these rivers ever gets a salmon, unless he
poaches or we give it to him."

"Is n't that hard?"

" Yes and no. Throw it all open, and in five years
there would be no salmon. They would go as the
buffalo have gone."

" And still I am sorry for the people who cannot
fish; the eating is another matter."

" Their fishing, dear, would be the mere use of a
net. But there is another point of view. We leave
more money on these rivers, are of more real use to
these boatmen and farmers, than all the salmon they
might take could possibly be."

" How difficult all life seems ! There are so many
questions."

"Fish, my dear, in peace of soul. By Thor, you
have a grilse ! " he cried. For now she was fast to a
fish of some six pounds, which was in and out of
water every minute, and, being too small to gaff, was
beached by a quick run up a sandy shore of the well-
drenched fisherwomau. While Tom was weighing
the fish. Rose learned that a grilse was a young
salmon, and what a parr was, and a smolt, and a kelt,
and how a grilse was known by the forked tail and
the small scales.

" A good un to smoke," said Tom. " We split 'em,
miss, and salt 'em pretty well, and then hold 'em open
like with two sticks, and hangs 'em over a righi
smoky fire for a matter of four or five days. Some

t^m

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 103

makes a wigwam of bark and smokes 'em in that, but
it ain't needed unless you want 'em to keep long.
Them they sells is all dried stiff and hard. These
here, just dried gentle, why they 're as fine-flavored
as — as — angels, or a chicken porkenpine."

"A '^mokcd angel ! " laughed Rose. " I am horribly
wet, but I must kill another salmon." Her hope was
realized, and, after an hour of hard casting, a twenty-
pound fish was brought to gaflf in some twelve
minutes.

" Very good time. Rosy. I used to think no man
ought to be over a lialf-hour in killing the strongest
salmon. But the charm of the game lies in the amaz-
ing individuality of the fish. No one of them ever
does just what any other does. Once I was two
hours with a salmon, and you may have the like luck."

" I should perish of fatigue."

" What would you think of killing ninety-two and
six grilse in five days? I once killed forty-two
striped bass in twenty-four hours, but these are
bonanzas. Run the boat up and empty her," he
added to Tom. As they stood, the rain continued
falling more and more heavily through a perfectly
still atmosphere.

"Kind of falls," said Tom.

" Did it ever rain harder ? " said Rose.

"Yes, miss; there are a spot up nigh back of
Thunder Bay — that's to north of Lake Superior —
and there it do rain in July — solid."

"Solid?" saidLyndsay.

" I said solid. Folks moves out for a month, other-
wise they is drownded standin'."

< I

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104

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

"That is a trappei-'s tale, Rose. I have heard it
before."

"It is near enough here to being solid to enable
n»o to believe the rest. How the boughs leap every
now and then as they drop their loads of rain, and
how slate-blue and opaque the water is ! "

"Notice these great drops: each rebounds from
the surface in a little column, so as to seem like black
spikes in the water. See, too, how the circles they
make cross one another without breaking. Smoke
rings do that," and he blew successive circlets of his
pipe-smoke, as ho spoke, so that they passed across
one another, breaking and remaking their rolling

nngs.

"Why is that?" she said.

" I do not know. I hardly care to ask. I am in
the mood of mere acceptance. Oh, there is the sun,
Rose ! See how between the flnger-liko needles of
the pine the drops are held, and what splendid jew-
elry the sun is making. It needs a still hour for this.
You have seen a thing in its perfection quite rare."

" Must we go, Pardy ? It has done raining."

"Yes, we must go. I forgot to ask you to listen
to the different noises a heavy rain makes acv^^rding
as you stand under pine or spruce, or hear it patter
on the flat-lying, deciduous leaves, or hum on the
water. Come, you must take the twenty-pounder to
Dorothy Maybrook. If it is not too wet, she will
perhaps walk up to Colkett's with you. But don't
go into the cabin. You might take for those poor
people two or three cans of corned beef. Meats are
scarce luxuries with them. They will need no money

JEN

re heard it

1 to enable

leap every

>f rain, and

junds from
m. like black
circles they
ug. Smoke
relets of his
assed across
;heir rolling

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 106

just at present. Mr. Carington gave them some

help."
"Did he?"

" Yes. The child is to be buried to-morrow, I hear."
"Is Mr. Carington the young man who shot the

seal ? "

" I suppose so,— yes. Why do you ask ? "
"Oil, nothing. Idlest curiosity. Pure curiosity
unstained by the coarseness of a motive."
" I am answered," he said, laughing.
They were soon at home.

sk. I am in
•e is the sun,
:o needles of
splendid jew-
hour for this,
[^uite rare."
Lining."
you to listen
kes ac^v/rding
hear it patter
• hum on the
ity-pounder to
wet, she will
m. But don't
for those poor
ef. Meats are
aeed no money

f(^

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I '

I i

CHAPTER VIII

PTER Uoso and her father hud iimde
their brief toilets, they found the fam-
ily at luncheon.

"I was wet to th< skin, and
through it, I believe," said Rose.
"No, I sha'n't take cold, mania.
Nobody takes cold here. Tom must bo wet through
to his bones — absolutely water-logged."

" The boys were a-drip like water-rats," said Mrs.
Lyndsay. "I am sure some of you will have pneu-
monia."

"But I got an eighteeu-and-a-half-pound salmon,"
cried Jack.

" He 's had him in his lap for an hour, like a baby,"
said Dick.

" That is capable of olfactory demonstration," re-
marked Anne.

" He '11 get that salmon framed," (;ried Dick. '* Such
a fuss—"
" Did you get any, sir ? " asked his father.
"No."

"Are you sorry Jack did ? "

" No, I am not that mean," returned the boy, flush-
ing. " Ned he caught it, and he let Jack bring it in.
Jack wanted it so very bad."

106

WHEN ALL THE WOODB ARE GREEN

107

"Badly, Hir?"

" Badly."

"And it was Nod's flsh, after all."

As he spoke, Lyndsuy nodded j^ently, smiling at the
youngest son, and no more was said ; but the boys
understood well enough that neither the selfishness
nor the self-denial had gone unnoticed. This was
made more plain when Mr. Lyndsay said:

"I shall flsh the upper pool to-morrow morning —
or, rather, you may, Ned, for I have letters to write."

"And Jack and Dick ? " said Ned.

" Those other fellows may slay trout." Ho disliked
even the approach to tale-telling by his boys, and
when Mrs. Lyndsay made an oppeal, in her mild way,
he said, laughing:

" The laws of the Modes and Persians were never
changed. Let it rest there. i\Iy barbarians under-
stand me, I fancy."

There was a little silence, which Rose broke.

" What is that in the glass, Dick, on the window-
ledge?"

" What Pierre calls a lamprey. It is the very lowest
of vertebrates. It has only a cartilaginous skeleton."

" Must be an awful learned beast," said Ned.

" It holds on to the side of the salmon, Rosy."

"Just like a fellow outside of an omnibus," said
Dick.

" What a queer thing ! " and Rose got up to look at
it. " I wonder if the salmon likes it. A parasite ! "

" WTiich proves," laughed Anne, ' that even a para-
site is capable of attachment. The obligation is all on
one side."

108

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" Literally," said Lyndsay.

"Archie," you are worse than Mr. B.," said Anne.
" If you say anything clever, he begins to dissect it
for the benefit of all concerned. The application of
anatomy to humor is one of the lowest of social pur-
suits. I loatlie that man."

" You don't really loathe any one, aunty."

" If you do not," said Margaret, " it is a pity to say
that sort of thing."

"But I do loathe the man — I do; I do. I am honest.
He has every quality of what Dick tenderly calls a
G. I. P., except the probability of ultimate usefulness."

"Reasonably complete that," said Lyndsay, while
Jack gi'inned his appreciation.

" Ho is a clergyman^ Anne," remarked Margaret,
with emphasis.

"That onlv makes it worse. I have heard him
preach. Don't you think a man who has no humor
must be a bad man ? "

"Anne I"

"One moment, dear. Let me finish him. I was
going to say, Archie, that if a mule was to kick
that man just for fun, he would never know he
was kicked."

" That covers the ground. You should have edited
a newspaper, Anne. Such vituperative qualities are
wasted here."

" Indeed, I think so," said Mrs. Lyndsay, rising at
the end of her luncheon. '' It may amuse you, Archie,
but for the boys it is bad, dear, bad."

Upon this the twins, r cLanted to hear of wicked-
ness, became critically attentive to the matter, and for

d^m

aid Anne.
. dissect it
lication of
social pur-

ty."
pity to say

[ am honest,
ierly calls a
usefulness."
adsay, while

3d Margaret,

e heard him
las no humor

him. I was

was to kick

ver know he

Id have edited
qualities are

Jsay, rising at
L you, Archie,

ear of wicked-
latter, and for

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN lot)

a moment refrained from their diet. Anne, a little
vexed, smiled as her sister-in-law stood opposite, but
made no other reply.

" I dare say it amuses you, my dear Anne."

" It does."

"But should it, dear, and at the cost of tempta-
tion to others ? Go out, boys." The twins went forth
merry. "And — and, dear, don't you think — °i "

Between question and answer Lyudsay made swift
retreat, with an explanatory cigar-case in his hand.

" Yes, I think, Margaret " ; and then, the gray eyes
lighting up, " I think, Margaret, that you do not al-
ways think. If you did, you would criticize that
wicked Archie."

"Archie ! Archie I What do you mean ? "

" I admit your premise. Homicide applied to char-
acter is bad enough ; but don't you think that Archie
ought to give up killing salmon ? "

"What?"

" You see it teaches the boys to be cruel. It is the
sad beginning of murder. There is only a difference
of degree in i k Suppose, now, a man kills a monkey,
and then — you follow me, dear — and then — oh, do
come here, Rose — and then he gets a shot somewhere
in Africa at the missing link. You see where killing
sahnon lands you at last. Where shall we draw the
line?"

Rose laughed, despite her mother's face of puzzled
yet obstinate gravity.

" What do you mean, Anne ? '

Anne rarely argued seriously with this sister-in-law,
who, despite their differences, was very dear to her.

|l!

110

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

Her delight was, like the cuttle-fish, so to obseure the
whole atmosphere of a discussion with mistiness of
vague analogy a3 to enable her to retreat with honor.

" Good gracious ! " Margaret went on, fanning her-
self violentl^^ as she did in all weather, and amuse-
ingly indicating by her use of the fan her own moods,
"what did I say to bring out all this nonsense? I
think I — yes — what was it, Rose?"

Any one's irritation, of which she herself seemed to
be the cause, troubled the little lady, especially if
Anne were the person involved. Nevertheless, no ex-
perience sufficed quite to keep Mrs. Lyndsay out of
these risks when her motherly instincts were in action.

Rose smiled, as she replied :

"Dear little mother. Aunt Anne objects to your
criticism of her form of sport, and the naughty aunty
is raising a dust of words, in which she will scuttle
away." As she spoke she cast a loving arm around her
mother, and one on her aunt's thin shoulders. But
Margaret Lyndsay had the persistency of all instinctive
beings.

" I think it bad for the boys. I always shall think
it bad. Dick is now too fond of ridiculing seri(nis
things, and they think whatever you do is right, and
whatever you say they think delightful. As for
Ned—"

" Ned ! my Ned ! That boy is an angel. I won't
have a word — "

"As if I did not know it ! " said Margaret, with the
nearest approach to wrath of which she was capable.
" Really, Anne Lyndsay, may I not even praise my
own boys ? "

EEN

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

111

obscute the
mistiness of
i with honor,
fanning her-
, and amuse-
c own moods,
Qonsense ? I

self seemed to
especially if
theless, no ex-
>rndsay out of
wrere in action.

jjects to your
uiughty aunty
lie will scuttle
^rm around her
oulders. But
E all instinctive

xys shall think
LCuUng serious
o is right, and
itful. As for

,ngel. I won't

garet, with the

The was capable.

Wen praise my

"I think, my dear Margaret, you lack imagina-
tion," said Anne. Like a great algebraist, who is apt
to skip in his statements a long series of equations,
she was given to omitting the logical steps by which
her swift reason passed to a conclusion satisfactorily
true for her, but obscure enough to her hearers.

" I don't understand," said Mrs. Lyndsay.

" Nor I," echoed Rose.

" My dears," said Anne, smiling, " the prosperity of
life lies largely in the true use of imagination."

" You are incorrigible, Anne. But 1 know I am
right."

" Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, ai*e
ofttimes different," quoted Anne, rising, and not over
well pleased. "I think I shall go and lie down,"

"I think I would," said Mrs. Lyndsay, simply.
"You are not looking well to-day."

" I am well enough,'* said Miss Anne.

"All ready! — and the fish and Polycarp!" cried
Lyndsay.

Rose was soon m the canoe, and the men began
poling across the river. As they moved, she sat, re-
flecting upon the little scene she had witnessed It
troubled her that two people so dear to her should
not always understand each other. The mother had
already ceased to think of it, and the aunt's irritability
was a matter of minutes. Only Anne Lyndsay knew
how sternly a remarkable intellect had by degrees
dictated terms of reasonable life to a quick temper
and a tongue too perilously skilful. This endless
warfare was now rarely visible, but its difficulties
were terribly increased at times when weakness and

1,1

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112

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

paiii grew hard to endure and fought on the side of
her foes. There were, indeed, times during the weari-
ness of travel when Rose Lyndsay was startled by
what she saw; times when Anne was striving with
constantly increasing pain. Then it would end with
a laugh and a jest, Jind some quaint defense of pain
as a form of moral education, until Rose, despite her-
self, would be reassured, and she

Who would have given a ealiiih's gold
For consolation, was herself consoled.

These things troubled her as she crossed the stream.
Once ashore she ceased to think of them. Polvcarp,
with few words, slung the salmon on his back, and,
leaving Ambrose to pious meditations and the canoe,
indicated the ox-road to Rose, who went on in front.

After twenty minutes of swift walking, Rose came
out of the wood-path into a clearing of some fifty
acres antl at last to a cabin set in an inelosure. Here
were a few beds of the commoner flowers and a squared-
log house. The windows were open, the dean white
muslin curtains pulled back, and on the ledges tomato-
cans and a broken jug or two filled with that flower
which grows best for the poor, the red geranium. On
the south crid of the cabin a Japanese ivy, given by
Mrs. Lyndsay, had nuido a fair fight with the rigor of
a Canadian winter and was part way up to the gable.
Noticing the absence of dirt and of the litter of chips,
rags, egg-shells, and bits of paper, so common where
labor has all it can do to attend to the essential, Rose
tapped on the open door, and then, turning, saw Mrs.

!EN

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 1113

the side of
r the weari-
startled by
riving with
Id end with
mse of pain
despite her-

d the stream.
I. Polvcarp.
is back, and,
id the canoe,
) on in front.
p, Rose came
)f some fifty
osure. Here
,nd a sqnared-
e ck'an white
idfies tomato-
1 that flower
cranium. On
ivy, given by
1 the rigor of
to tlie gable,
itter of chips,
)mmon where
ssential, Rose
ing, saw Mrs.

Maybrook standing at the well. She came forward at
once to meet her visitor.

" Why, I guess you must be Margaret Lyndsay's
daughter."

Rose, a little taken aback by the familiar manner of
this identification, perhaps showed it to this shrewd
observer in something about her bearing as she said,
"A pleasant evening after the rain," and took the
proffered hand. " Yes, I am Rose Lyndsay."

" I 'm never quite rid of my Quaker fashion of nam-
ing folks without their handles. Seems to get you
nearer to people. Now, don't you think so ? Come in."

Rose, as her host stepped aside, entered the cabin. It
was bedroom, kitchen, and sitting-room all in one, like
most of these rude homes, but it was absolutely clean,
and just now, as the cooking was done out of doors,
was cool and airy. Mrs. Maybrook was in a much-
mended gown, and bore signs enough of contact v/ith
pots and pans. Still the great coils of hair were fairly
neat, and the gray eyes shone clear and smiling. She
made none of the apologies for her house*or its fur-
niture such as the poor are apt to make, nor yet for
herself or her dress.

"Come in and sit down. I 'm that glad to see
you. Oh, Polycarp, is that you? And your father
has sent me a salmon? My old man wiU like that.
Put it in the brook, Polycarp."

" But it is my fish," said Rose. " I killed it and I
wanted you to have it ; my father had nothing to do
with it. I am glad of a chance to thank you, Mrs.
Maybrook, for — for all you were to my mother —
all you did last summer when our dear Harry died."

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

And this fine young woman, in her tailor-made
London walking-gown, thereupon having got to the
end of words, and having had this thing in mind for
ten minutes, fell an easy victim to nature, so that her
eyes filled as she spoke. When this came about, Dor-
othy became as easy a prey to the despotism of sym-
pathetic emotion, and her tears, too, fell like ripe
apples on a windy November day. Also, upon this,
these two '' fools of nature " looked at each other
and smiled through their tears, which is a mysteriously
explanatory and apologetic habit among rightly made
women. After this they were in a way friends. The
elder woman took the hand of the younger and said :

*' When my last boy died, there was a woman I just
hated, and she came and she cried. It makes a heap
of matter who cries, — don't it, now ? "

" Oh, it does — it does," said Rose, with still a little
sob in her voice.

" I did n't want that woman to cry. But you don't
mind my crying, now, do you ? That was the sweetest
little fellow."

" Please don't," said Rose,

" No, no ; I won't, I know. Is n't it awful lucky
men can't cry ? That 's just the only way we can get

even with 'em.

How 's

mother ? And Miss Anne ?

Now, that is a woman. Never saw a woman like her
in all my born life. Ain't she got a way of saying
things? Oh, here 's Hiram. Hiram, this is Miss
Rose Lyndsay. I reckon " — M>'s. Maybrook reckoned,
calculated, or guessed with the entire indifference of
a woman who had lived south, north, and east —
"I reckon they knew what they was about when they

3EN

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

115

tailor-made
got to the
m mind for
so that her
about, Dor-
ism of sym-
2II like ripe
), upon this,
, each other
mysteriously
rightly made
i-iends. The
jer and said:
woman I just
makes a heap

;h still a little

But you don't
,s the sweetest

awful lucky
ay we can get
I Miss Anne?
onum like her
vay of saying

this is Miss
•ook reckoned,
udifference of
and east —
out when they

called you Rose. 'T ain't easy naming children. They
ain't all like flowers, that just grow up, according to
their kind. If you 'd have been called Becky, there
would n't have been no kind of reason in it."

" I trust not," laughed Rose.

" How do you do, miss i " said Hiram. He was tall,
a little b-^nt, clad in sober gray, and had a shock of
stiff, grizzly hair and a full gray beard. His eyes,
which were pale blue and meaningless, wandered as he
stood.

" Miss Rose has fetched a fish," said Dorothy. " You
might clean it, Hiram."

" I '11 do it," he said, stolidly, and turned to go like
a dull boy sent on an errand.

''And don't forget to fetch the cows in at sun-
down."

" I '11 do it," and he went out.

" He 's a bit touched in his head," said his wife.
" You see, when we were at Marysville the war kind
o' upset him. They wanted him to go into the rebel
army, and he was n't minded to do it. I got him a
place on a railroad, so he did n't have to ; but he was
awful worried, and took to thinking about it. and his
brothers that were in our army, — on the other side, —
and then he got off his head. He ain't been the same
man since, — and twice he ran away. But I fetched
him both times, and then the fevers took the children.
He ain't been the same man since. I 've got to p'int
him a good bit, — that 's what he calls it ; but if he 's
p'inted right, he goes sure. To my thinking, it is a
queer world. Miss Rose. I wish I was certria there
is a better."

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116

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" But there is," said Rose.

"Well, well. Maybe. Anyhow, I never felt no
call to doubt what I was to do in this one. Old
Kitchins used to pray over me. He was an awful
certain man about other folks' sins; never missed
fire. At last, one day, when he was a-consoling me,
and thinking he 'd just only got to I j a kind of cen-
turion for a woman's troubles, and say go and they 'd
go, I asked him if he 'd any knowledge of the gospel
of grinning, — and that ended him. Come out and
see my flowers."

Rose got up, laughing. "I want you to walk to
Colkett's with me. I told the men to go up the river,
so as to bring us back. You see, I made sure you
would go."

" Go ! — of course I '11 go," said Dorothy. " No, I
won't want a bonnet. I 've got one somewhere, under
the bed, I guess," and, so saying, they set off. It re-
quired little skill to draw from this frank and fearless
nature, as they walked, the history of a wandering
life, of the children dead, of the half-witted husband,
of her own long-continued asthma, now gone, as she
hoped. It was told with eui'ious vivacity, — with some
sense of the humorous quality of complete disaster,
and when she spoke of her dead it was with brief
gravity, which seemed to deny sympathy or hasten
away from it. As they moved along and her com-
panion talked, Rose glanced with curiosity at the
Quaker-born woman, who had lost nearly every trace
of her origin. She walked well, and there was a cer-
tain distinctiveness, if not distinction, in her erect car-

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AUE GREEN

117

er felt no
one. Old
1 an awful
;^er missed
isoling me,
ind of cen-
and they 'd
the gospel
[le out and

to walk to
ip the river,
le sure you

hy. "No, I
sphere, under
t ofE. It re-
and fearless
a, wandering
;ed husband,
gone, as she
—with some
lete disaster,
IS with brief
hy or hasten
md her com-
,osity at the
y every trace
ire was a cer-
her erect car-

riage and refinement of feature, still visible after years
of toil and troubles.

At last, after a pause. Rose spoke for herself.

"It seems to me wonderful that you, who have
gone through so much, could have stood it as you
seem to liave done." She herself was at the opening
age of doubts and questions. At times the discon-
tentment of a life without the definite auns of a man's
career distressed her. Yet she had surely all that one
could ask of existence; and here was this poverty-
haunted woman supremely cheerful under circum-
stances such as would have ruined all capacity for
happiness in most of her sex. Rose went on, half
surprised at her own frankness:

"I have everything in the world, and sometimes I
am not happy. I ought to be ashamed."

" Well, Miss Rose, I did use to bother, but I gave it
up. As long as you 're here, you 're here, i 'm like
a pig Hiram used to have out "West. He was a very
enterprising pig, and was always a-trying to get into
the pea-patch and out of his own field. One day I
was watching that pig, — I used to think that pig could
laugh, — well, he spied an angle of a great big, dead
cottonwood-tree Hiram had set to stop the gap in a
fence. You see, the two ends of it were in the field,
and it was hollow right through trunk and limb, and
the point of it stuck out into my pea-patch. So, Mr.
Pig, in he goes, and after much scratching he got
through the trunk, and then through the big branch,
and then out he came, and there he was in the same
field again. Well, he tried it three times and then he

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS AlfE GREEN

gave it up ; looked like he 'd have liked to scratch his
head ; and after that he was the contentedest pig you
ever saw. And when sticking-tirae came, at Christinas,
he did n't squeal any morsel louder than the rest. I
guess I 'm a good deal like that pig. I 've quit trying
to get out of my field, and so I just stay here and grin,
and take what comes."

" Thank you," said Rose, smiling. " That is a de-
lightful parable, Mrs. Maybrook." And with it Rose
ceased awhile to hear what her companion said, and
took stern measures with herself, because of the
thoughts this woman's life and words had brought
to her.

Dorothy was at times, when her audience suited
her, a person who talked herself out in liberal amount,
finding in self -utterance one of her few and most dis-
tinct pleasures. Yet she was never so full of herself
as entirely to cease to think of others. She saw in a
few minutes that Rose had lost hold of the talk, and
was at intervals saying, " Yes, yes," in an absent way,
so as to keep up a decent appearance of being still in-
terested in her companion's words. Dorothy had by
no means fine manners, but she had the automatically
active instincts of a woman to whom tact was a natural
gift. She too became silent, and they walked on for a
time without more exchange of words.

Rose, like some young women of her age, was at
times the easy prey of moods of absence, which
carried her far enough from the hour or its com-
pany. She had preached herself a severe sermon,
and now came back to the outer world again as they
passed a marshy spot where, of a sudden, the whole-

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 119

-atch his
pig you
iristmas,
I rest. I
it trying
and grin,

t is a de-
ll it Rose
said, and
,e of the
1 brought

ace suited
al amount,
I most dis-
of herself
e saw in a
Q talk, and
bsent way,
ing still in-
thy had by
tomatically
IS a natural
:ed on for a

age, was at
nee, which
3r its com-
jre sermon,
-ain as they
, the whole-

some wood odors rose around her, that deligl ^ful
commingling of the scent of moldering trunks, res-
inous weepings of the pine, and the sweetness of
the breath of the young spruces. Nature said, in
her most tender tones, "Come back to me out of
your tangle of self-discussion, and I will give you
rest." It was a delicately responsive organization to
which this mute appeal was made, and the flue instru-
ment answered to the call with no more conscious-
ness of the gentle influence than has the swaying
pine stirred to healthful exercise by the northland
breeze.

" Don't you like the wood-smells ? " she said.

" Me ? I guess I do. That 's queer about Susan
Colkett; asked her one day if she did n't love the
spruce-smells, and she just said they had n't none."

" That was odd. I could never like that woman,
but I am very, very sorry for her."

" Like her ! Miss Rose, I saw her once killing
chickens, — I never can do that, — and the woman was
laughing all the while. I don't love her, but —
There 's the house; you wait here in the woods;
I '11 get her out, and then you can talk. Sit down on
this log. I '11 fetch her."

" But are you not afraid, Mrs. Maybrook 1 "

"I? No; I 'm old and tough, and it would n't
matter much — except for Hiram. There 'd be no-
body to p'int him," and she laughed.

Then Rose took up her sermon again, and Dorothy
walked to the back of the crumbling cabin, through
the vileness of the cow-shed, which was connected
with the house to save wintry exposures in curing for

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120 WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GEELN

the (iattlo, now reduced in miuiber to one luuk, milk-
le88 cow.

Two decrepit chickens fled us she (!arao by, and n
long-legged, Ingh-roofed pig lifted his snout above
his empty trough and grunted a famine-born ap-
peal. Her feet were noisel(!ss in the slough of muck
through which she picked her way with a grimace of
disgust. At the open back door she paused, hear-
ing high voices within. About to enter, slio halted
abruptly, and a look of intense attention came upon
her face. The speakers were liidden, but in tlie dim-
ness at the far end of the room, she saw the half
of the bed, — one broken leg of it tied up to a splint
of wood, — and above, the white sheet upon the
figure of tlie dead cliild. She stayed motionless a
moment, at first merely shocked at the rudcs noises
in the chamber of death, but, when about to knock,
stopped si "t again at the hearing of her own name.

" Dory Maybrook 's a fool ; don't tell me about
her ! "

" Well, I won't. Ain't I goiu' to have no more of
that money ? " It was Joe Colkett who spoke.

" You took five dollars last night," said the woman.
Her voice, strident and high-pitched, sent a shiver of
discomfort through Dorothy. ''Did n't think no
man would be mean enough to steal from under a
dead child's pillow ! "

"I might ov took it all, — I 'm that miserable.
Don't go to say I 'm drunk. I 'm not. What did
you do with the rest of it, anyway?"

"I got Bill Churchman's wife to buy me a white
gown down the river, to put on my child, and a white

,uk, milk-
by, and u
)iit above
i-btn'u ap-
i of iiiiick
xrinuK'O of
ised, liear-
8ho halted
came upon
ill the dim-
,w the half
I to a splint
\ipon the
lotionless a
iMide noises
it to knoek,
r own name.
I me about

no more of
poke.

the woman.

t a shiver of

I't think no

om under a

it miserable.
What did

\f me a whiiic
I, and a white

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 121

sheet, and then there 's the money to fetch tlie
preacher. I could n't get no sheet until I paid your
reckonin' for whisky. There ain't much left."

" I 'm dreadful sorry," said tiie man.

'' Oil, don't go a-whinin' round me ! Just let me
alone I I was a fool to have took a man like jaii,
that ain't got no sense and no work in him!"

"I would n't ov sayed that, Susie."

"No ? "Well, I say it. What did that lawyer man
tell you about the mortgage? When has we got to
go?"

"Oh, 1)0 says we may bide till next winter; but
he 's to have the cow and the pig."

" And you said you 'd give 'em up ? "

"Yes. What could I ov done? Susie, don't you
set there a-eiyin'. T can git a lumber job, and we '11
look about, and Mr. Lyndsay he '11 give us a bit of
money."

"No, he won't. Dory Maybrook she '11 tell him
Mr. Carington gave you some money, and Dory she '11
teU him, too, it 's no use helpin' a drunken brute."

"I said I would n't drink no more, and I won't.
You might believe me, Susie. Ain't I alius loved
you, and slaved for you and them dead chihh'en, and
not mine neither ? I 'm not a bad man, if I do take
a drop now and again."

" If you was a worse man, I 'd ov liked you better.
A great strong man like you, and all these rich
folks round here."

" Wliat ! " he exclaimed.

Dorothy started. She would have liked to see
those two faces.

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122

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" Tf you was to care for me a little, Susie, I 'd do
most anything you wanted."

"Ain't that Carington comin' up in September,
and did n't he ask you to go into the woods after
caribou with him ? There ain't no better hunter than
you in these parts." As she spoke, her voice became
low and softer, so that the listener scarcely heard it.
" Them city folks carries a lot of money about with
'em, and watches and things. We 've got to get
away, and we 've got to live, Joe Colkett, — to live, I
say ! "

" Do you want me to steal the man's money ? "

" Oh, stealin' gits found out. Ain't we been robbed ?
Who stole our house and all my man's earnin's ? "

" What is it you want, Susie ? " He spoke timidly.

"I want a man as is a man, and ain't afeard, —
you ain't him ! "

" Did n't I say I 'd do 'most anything for you?"

"'Most anything!"

"Well, anything." Then there was a moment of
utter silence. " You would n't go to want me to do
nothin' wrong."

"Well, you are a fool! Ain't folks lost in them
woods sometimes, and never found ? "

" I can't do it," said the man, hoarsely. " I said I
could n't, and I can't. I — I can't," and he was heard
moving to and fro in the agitated indecision of a
great temptation. ^)orothy began to fear that she
would come into view.

" I can't," he repeated.

"But he will," murmured Dorothy, falling back
noiselessly. Then, stepping through a break in the

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 123

e, I 'd do

:;pteraber,
ods after
inter than
3e became
( heard it.
ibout with
;ot to get
-to live, I

jn robbed ?

lill'S?"

ke timidly.
t afeard, —

r you?"

moment of
t me to do

)st in them

" I said I
was heard
cision of a
ir that she

tiling back
reak in the

rotten boards of the shed, she bent low among the
alders and fled. When away in the woods, she walked
untU she came again to Rose. "They 're in," she
said. " Mind, we 've just come. Don't let on I left
you — hush — not now. There 's a reason. I can't
explain now. Come."

Rose, rather bewildered, followed her. A few paces
from the closed door she stood still, while Dorothy,
going on, called gently, " Susie Colkett," and knocked
as she spoke. ")

" Oh, it 's you ! " said the mistress of the house, as
she came forward to the doorway.

" Yes ; Miss Lyndsay came up with me. Dear me !
I 'm that tired ! "

Mrs. Colkett, from her grim height of leanness,
looked sharply at the speaker. " That ain't common
with you." Then she came out and went up to Rose.
" Won't you come in ? " she said. " It ain't much of a
liouse, but poor folks has got to put up with what
they can git." The stooping carriage, the high, red
cheek-bones, and the large, yellow teeth struck the
young woman unpleasantly. That the mother said
nothing of the dead child within, seemed strange.

"I — I could n't now, — not now," said Rose, gently.
''I wanted to say we were all so — so very sorry for
you. It 's only just a year last week that my own little
brother died, you know,"

"And, Susie, it was the same thing, oh, just the
same," said Dorothy, softly.

" My father would like to know if there is anything
you want; anything — really anything wc can do?"

" No," she said. At one moment she was filled with

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124

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

eager greed to get all that was to be had out of these
fine people ; at the next she was shaken by a storm of
auger at the contrast between these deaths. She had
a crude remembrance of the decencies and order of the
funeral of Harry Lyndsay, and then of Joe coming in
with the rough coffin, of the place back in the woods
where her two children lay in unmarked graves. On
such recollections the mere brutalness of love of her
offspring dwelt with savagery of comment. She had
seen the small stone which had been set over the little
Lyndsay, in the late spring, just before the family had
come upon the river. These things had been in her
mind for days, and now it was hard to conceal her
feelings She would have liked to take an ax and
break the modest memorial of their dead. She said,
merely, " No, no ! " to Rose, and then, shortly, ** Joe
and me are nnich obliged, miss."

'* You will let us know if we can help you ? " Her
visible emotion Rose, very naturally, misinterpreted.
Dorothy stood by, grave, silent, and watchful.

" Where 's your man ? " she said, as Rose bade good-
by and turned away. Joe, stunned, half afraid of his
masterful temptress, had remained in the cabin. " Oh,
Susie," added Dorothy, m lower tones, "I hope he
has n't been drinking m; ilu '"

"What 'a that y<mr buHiiess?" returned the other
woman. " Guess I can take care of my man."

"I am not so sure of thatj but I did n't mean to
offend you."

" Then you had n't ought to have meddled."

" All right," said Dorothy; "good -by"; and, turn-
ing, she left Mrs. Colkett and rejoined Rose.

rilM.

WHEN ALL. THE WOODS ARE GREEN 125

" What a woman ! " she said, and then for a time
neither spoke.

When they were well on their way to the shore,
Rose said : " I am troubled, Mrs. Maybrook, that I so
dislike any one as unfortunate as that woman. But I
don't like her. I never, never want to go there again,
and I am sorry for her, too. Oh, I am as sorry as I
can be ; but — "

Dorothy simply said, " I do not wonder." And then,
v/ith a laugh, " The fact is. Miss Rose, that Colkett
woman 's bad; and, for my part, I 'm a right lop-
sided Christian. I can't put on mourning for rattle-
snakes just the same as for doves. It 's a kind of
comfort to find you are n't much better than I am."

"I,— indeed not!"

Meanwhile Dorothy was debating in her mind how
much she should tell her companion. A side glance
at the fresh young maiden face decided her. " I said
along back I would explain what kept me so long. I
cannot. They were talking about me. It was n't very
pleasant. I overheard something disagreeable. I
reckon I '11 come over and see about it with Mr. Lynd-
say. Do you chance to know Mr. Carington that fishes
up to Island Camp ? "

"No." Rose felt that whatever was withheld con-
corned — must concern — this gentleman. " But I am
immensely curious," she said.

"Are you ? " cried Dorothy, laughing. " I am going
to keep my mouth shut for twenty-four hours, and
that 's real, rity-dity penance, I can tell you ! Did you
never see Mr. Carington ? Why, he 's right up river,
just two or three miles."

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126

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" No, — or yes, with my glass a momeut, ever so far
away. What is he like ? "

" Oh, there 's two."

"Nottwius?"

" No. There 's a Mr. EUett. He 's a man walks
about and — well, he walks about."

Rose laughed. She felt the description to be some-
what indistinct, and said so.

" Kind of man says ' Oh ! ' when you talk to him.
Awful neat man, — wears glasses V

" And the other ? "

"He 's a well-set-up man. Stands up strong on
his hind legs."

''His what?"

" His hind legs. He 's pretty smart with a boat,
and a gun, too. He 's got a way of putting his head
back, and sort of looking you over, as if he was tak-
ing stock of you. It 's not as if he was stuck up or
saucy. It 's just a way your father has, too. Miss
Rose."

" Indeed ! " Miss Lyndsay was not quite sure she
desired any one to resemble her father. ''Here we
are at the landing."

" You won't mind if I ask you, Miss Rose, not to
say — there was — anything — anything wrong?"

" No, of course not, if you wish it ; but I do want
to know," and then they went away homeward, down
the highway of the waters. In fact, as to this matter
of which she was not to speak, Rose was vastly curi-
ous, and lay long awake that night, smiling at times
over the description of the dwellers at the Island
Camp.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 127

Dorothy slipped away up the ox-road, from the
river-bank opposite the Cliff Camp, and went with
slow and unusually thoughtful steps through the
wood. At the gate of their clearing she found
Hiram, as usual, waiting for her like a patient dog
for the master.

" You 've been a long time," he said.

" Yes,— I could not help it. Are the cows milked ? "

"No. I kind of forgot."

"Better go and milk them now," she said; "and
don't forget to feed the hogs, and put the bars up,—
one, two, three things," and she smUedj "mind, three
things."

"Oh, now I 'm p'inted right. I '11 go. The bars,
you said ? "

"Yes, the bars." And he wert away, saying,
"One, two, three, one, two, three. I might forget
them bars ! " And meanwhile the wife moved home-
ward, still deep in thought.

li >^

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CHAPTER IX

T breakfast next day, Rose came in
late.

" What, overslept yourself ? " said
her father, as she went the round of
the table with her morning kisses.
" Yes ; I could n't get to sleep."
" And what kept you awake ? " said Miss Anne, who
still, to the surprise of all, appeared almost daily at the
morning meal. " A penny for your thoughts."

"I was guessing a riddle; but I took it into my
sleep unanswered."

"A good many riddles have been answered in sleep,"
said Miss Anne. " Was yours ? "
" No. Oh, no. Master Ned ; I shall not tell it."
"That 's the hardest riddle ever was," cried the
boy. " I have to guess wha. lie riddle is, and then
what the answer is."
" You will never, never know."
"May we ask twenty questions about it?" said
Dick. "Animal, vegetable, or mineral?"

" I should be puzzled. To what kingdom do morals
belong?"

" Why, who ever heard of mineral or vegetable
morals ? "

"The last might admit of illustration," said Miss

128

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

129

Anne; and she began to consider within herself the
people she knew who had what she called vegetable
morals.

" Is there a man in your riddle ? " cried Jack.

" A Boss-town man," said Dick, with a grin.

" Pinch him, Jack," said Rose.

" Oh ! " cried Dick, responsive to the promptly ap-
plied punishment, and making a wry face. " You
would be awfully good at a Jersey courtship. Rose,
especially if you got Jack to help."

"A good friend at a pinch," said Jack. And so
these foolish people rattled on, and by and by Mrs.
Lyndsay said:

" Rose, you have not told us anything about Mrs.
Maybrook and those poor Colketts. I did not ask
you last night, you were so sleepy."

" Don't ask me now," said Rose. " I never saw such
a horrible creature as that woman."

" But her child is dead ! " said Mrs, Lyndsay, with
gentle inconsequence.

" I think her altogether hateful," insisted Rose.

"Altogether hateful?" cried Anre. "I like these
complete natures. It must simplify things in life so
satisfactorily. Amiability would become so useless an
effort. To be altogether and hopelessly aside from the
possibilities of affection or respect might save a deal of
moral exertion.''

" I don't think I understand," said Mrs. Lyndsay ;
'" or, if I do, I am very sure that it is n't a nice thing
to say. Would n't it be as simple and better to be
altogether lovable ? ''

" No, no,'' cried Anne ; " you have tried that, and

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130

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AUE (I KEEN

does it really pay. dear?' Margaret was a trifle
uncertain as to the compliment, and Anne, mu<4i de-
lighted at her game of what she called mental cat's-
cradle, was about to go on, when Pierre came in.

'"Ah, here is the nuiil," said Lyndsay, and emptied
out the bag on a side-table.

" I have been yearning for a newspaper," said
Anne.

" Not I," cried her brother, as he walked around the
table distributing the letters. ''Ah,'' he said, " my
friend North. Ho was to have joined us with his wife
next week, Anne ; but ChiN'borne is dead. You will
all be sorry to hear tliat. North says — it is, as usual,
interesting. Shall I read it? ''

'' Oh, certainly, Archie, — all of it. I am very sorry.
It will be a great loss to Dr. North."

" And to our too snmll world of letters," added
Lyndsay.

" He says, * We — that is, Vincent and I — had spent
two hours with our old f" 'end in that great book-clad
room we all know. We came away talking of his
vast knowledge of medieval men and things. 1 had
chanced to say I wondered how a gentleman in the
fifteenth century spent a day, and he had at once told
it all in curious detail — as to hours, dress, diet, and
occupations. I left Vincent and went back for a book
I had meant to borrow. When I entered, Clayborne
was seated as usual with a little book in his hand.
As he did not stir, I went up to him. The book was
kept open by his palm. I stooped over him and saw
that the book was Fulke Greville's on Democracy.
He was dead. He had noiselessly gone out, without

WHEN ALL TILE WOODS AKE UltEEN 1^1

a trifle
uuch de-
tal cat's-
e in.

emptied

or," said

L'ouud the
said, " my
h his wife
You will
1, as usual,

rery sorry.
rs," added

- had spent
book-clad
ing of his
, 1 had
nan in the
t once told
s, diet, and
for a book
Clayborne
his hand.
e book was
im and saw
democracy,
ut, without

stir of a finger. He must have been receiving ideas,
dealing with them, and then — ' See, Margaret, this
is his symbol of death. 'I supp()S(s dear Lyndsay,
you will think it strange that I sat still a half-hour
beside my dead friend. I never felt the other world
so close; it seemed within touch. At last — as the
great frame began to stiffen — the book fell. I took
it, marked the place, and put it in my pocket.'

" The rest," said Lyndsay, " is of less interest."

"A happy exit," said Anne.

'' I cannot think that," returned Margaret. '' I should
want to know that I was dyin;,."

" One rarely does," said her husband. " You get
muddled, and say and do foolish and ill-bred things.
I sympathize with a friend of mine who gave orders
that he was to be left to die alone."

*' How horrible ! How unnatural ! "

"No, no," cried Anne; "it is you who are *un-na-
tured.' But imagine dying with such a dull book in
hand ! I was wondering what book I should want
to have last seen on earth."

" I can think of but one, Anne."

" Oh, that is not one book. Why call it a book ? It
is the books of many men. Besides, — and this is ter-
rible, Margaret, — I should like it to have been some
very earthsome book, — I had to coin an adjective, —
and I should like it to be like Ned's friend — several."

Margaret was critically silent. All this was in a
way unpleasant to her, as the unusual is always to
some people.

" I do not think," said Lyndsay, " I know with what
thoughts I should like to go hand in hand out of life.

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WHEN ALIi TIIK WOODH AKH (JHKKN

llo wiiM II (liio, iri'itublo old fellow. Tho crituis wou't
bother him now."

"Who can tell ! There nmy be arehiiu{^elic critics,
for all we know,'' returned Anne. ** Howev«n', perhaps
one won't uiind it. You know what Ilafiz Hiiys:
•Happy are the dead, for they shall inherit the king-
dom of indifference.' "

".\nno! Anne!'' excdaimed Mrs. Lyndsay.

** Between papa's Aurelius and Aunt Anne's Persian
poets," said Rose, in haste to intervene, '* the fairy-land
of bewilderment is never far awav."

'' I have the wi(^ked worldliness, brother, to want to
know how Mr. Clayborno left his money. Was n't ho
rich?"

" Yes. Wait a moment. lie divided it, North says,
between him — that is North, dear ; I am glad of that ;
it will bo in wise hands — and, really, that (pieer crea-
ture, St. Clair ; but he was clever enough to pnt his
share in trust."

*' I am very glad. That too delightful man ! " ex-
claimed Rose. *' Do you remember, Aunt Anne, the
morning we spent with him at the Louvre ? It was
like walking about with some Greek sculptor. He
seemed to be awav in Athens while he talked."

"It was certainly interesting," said her aunt. "A
trifle naturalistic at times, I thouglit."

" Was he ? I don't know. We used to wonder,
mama, if he ever really cared for Alice Leigh. After
that morning I made up my mind he never did. He
spent ten minutes comparing her head and neck to
that of the Diana."

" What a feminine test ! " said Lyndsay. " If a man

WTIKN ALL TIIK WOODS AUK OKKKN

nil}

W(!ro to tell you that you IooUimI lik(( tlio V(!uus of
Molos, KoHO, would you siiy, ' No, sir; you can't euro
for irie. It is inipoKsiblo. I shall always,' etc., etc.
— the usual formula?"

" You arc too bad, Pardy ! My convictions are un-
shaken. Mr. St. Clair told mo ; ho did not tell her.
If h(5 had told her, I know ho would have said it in
that soft, convinced way. She would have likcid it."

" I see," said Lyndsay ; " it becomes clearer."

" Why do men sneer at him 1 I think him — well,
I think him indescribablv attractive. The word 'fas-
cinatinjif' would answer. And I am sorry for poor
Mrs. North; oh, I am! Fascinating^ — yes, that u
what I should call him, and oddly unconventional.''

" I think you younj^ folks are too apt to use that
word 'fascinating,'" said her mother. "I have no
liking for these men who can fascinate, and can't
hold fast to the affections of any one."

At this Anne burst into inextinguishable laughter,
and, withone hand pressed on the aching side which
was so apt to che(!k her wilder mirth, she held out
the other to the astonished Mrs. Lyndsay, exclaiming:

" A forfeit — a pun from Margaret. Five cents —
ten cents ; a forfeit ! "

"And what did I say?"

" Oh ! " cried Rose. — " the dear mama ! She said —
she said a man who could fascinate and not hold on
to one. Oh, mama, how could you ? "

" But I did n't. I never meant such a thing."

"Yes! yes!" they cried; and, laughing, got up
from table amidst continued protests from the inno-
cent punster.

ill]

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t34

VVIIKN Alili TIII'J VVOODH AUK (lUKEN

kosc followcMl her futher on to tho ponsli.

*' Mrs. Mayln'ook will ho over at ton. Sim wants to
8t!C you. I told Imi' you would not lish to-day."

"What is it she wants f"

" I do not know. Somothinf^ serious, I fancy."

" No new trouble for her, I hope. By the way, old
i*olycai*p's bowman is siek to-day and cannitt f^o with
you. Anne, for a wonder, wishes to go on tho water.
Ned shall take Pierre. Not to disappoint you, 1 sent
Poly(tarp early up to the clearings to i^vt a bowman.
Ho will be back shortly. Good luck to you ! " And
he went in to his letters, while Rose arranged her
ftshin^-bask(^t, put in it a cou])le of books, and sat
down to look over tho bright assortment of feathered
lures in her liei-'s fly-book. Now and then she
glanced up iver, but no boat api)eared.

Meanwhile Mrs. Maybrook came, atul went. Rose
heard her father say to her, jis she went out :

" No ; it must not be left in doubt." He was of
opinion that it might moan little ; but it might, on tho
other hand, mean much. Many are tempted, and few
fall. The idea of crime on this quiet river seemed
almost absurd to him. He added, *' I shall mention
it, you may feel sure of that, Mrs. Maybrook. A Lady
Macbeth in business up here is queer enough."

" I certainly do think he ought to be told," said Dor-
othy.

These bits of talk much puzzled Rose. As to Dor-
othy, she lingered a while to chat with Anne, who sat
with her hands in her lap in that entire idleness which
more than any other thing on earth exasperated Mar-
garet Lyndsay. Below, on the beach, Ned was prepar-

WIIKN ALL THE WOODS AUE OKKEN i:J5

ants to

•v "

vny, old
^o with
water,
ii, 1 sent
)owman.
! " And
if^ed her
and silt
'eatherod
then she
ed.
it. Rose

•
•

was of
ht, on the
, and few
r seemed

1 mention
A Lady

h."
said Dor-

^s to Dor-
, who sat
aess which
rated Mar-
ias prepar-

inf?, a little troubled heeause the other hoys were not
to go with him, while tlusy, (iiiit(! reeoiuiih-d to the de-
cree of parental fate, were gaily liunu^liiiig their (;anoe,
and singing, as they poled iip-stn^uin :

"I would not K''^> "'y •>oiiiiy Itoso,
My bonny lt(tH(t-ii-LyntlHuyn,
For all tlio woaltli tlio occun known,
Or tlio walo of tlio lands of LyndHayr."

Then Rose wav(!<l her handkerehief, and, nni(!h dis-
appointed, again took Inn* field-glass and still saw no
canoe. At last Mrs. Lyndsay (iame out, and they sat
in the pleasant sunshine, the moth(;r sewing with even
<M>nstan(n', whi(!h as seriously annoyed Anne as her
own absen(!e of all manual emphiy did the little
mother.

Very socm Anne became engaged in h<u* usual
amus(anent of recklessly tangling some one in the
toils of statements, arguments, and opinions in which
she luirself had no serious helic^f ; since, I should add,
this })right, humorous, and strangely learned creature
was, under all, a woman of strong views and deliber-
ately won religious beliefs.

When Rose, distracted from her regrets at the loss
of the forenoon fishing, began to hear the talk, Anne
had just said :

" I don't see how the world could go on at all with-
out fibs."

Upon which Mrs. Lyndsay, despite years of acquain-
tance with her sister-in-law, pricked her finger and
dropped her thimble, and took to her fan.

"Yon see, there is no commandment against it,
Margaret."

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136

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

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" But, Anne, ' Thou shalt not bear false witness,' "
said Mrs. Lyndsay.

" But suppose I tell a harmless fib about myself, or
praise some one I should like to — to slap?"

"It 's all false witness, I reckon," said Dorothy.
" If I ain't my own neighbor, I 'd like to know who
is?"

Anne smiled. That this fly was not easily meshed
in her sophistical web only excited the spider.

"It would be a horrid addition to one's responsi-
bilities to be one's own neighbor. I should move
away. After all, Margaret, is n't the chief use of
habitual truthfulness to enable one at need to lie
with useful probability of being believed '? "

By this time Mrs. Lyndsay wa3 nearly past the pos-
sibilitv of remonstrance. She let fall the work she
had resumed, and, rocking steadily, began to fan
herself with delibf'rate slowness. A little she sr
pected this baited snare ; but not to seize it was be-
yond her power of self-control.

" I am thankful my boys are not here. You will
say it is a jest. Whether it is a jest or not, it is
equally the kind of thing which shonla not be said —
ever," and here she shut tlic fan with decision, as if
that also closed the argument.

" I was thinking I 'm rather on Miss Anne's side,"
said Dorothy. " There 's a heap of righteousness in
some lies. Now, if I had n't been a dreadful truth-
speaking woman a good many years, my Hiram
would n't believe me now; and the fact is I just stuff
that man full of lies nowadays. I just chuck them
around like you feed chickens. I tell him he looks

/ 1

1 '.._

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 137

aess,' "

?elf , or

n'othy.
w who

meshed

ssponsi-

i move

use of

1 to lie

the pos-

ork she

to fan

she sr

was be-

iTou will
Lot, it is
e said —
on, as if

'i* side,"
Lsness in
il truth-
Hiram
ust stuff
ck them
he looks

better every day, and how he is getting stronger.
Miss Anne, I should n't wonder a bit if the Lord
loved a right cheerful liar."

" Good gi'acious ! " said Margaret Lyndsay. " Doro-
thy, how can a good woman like you say such
things 1 "

" I can. And he 's a-failing before my very eyes,"
she added, upon which she became silent. A tear or
two dropped down her cheeks. " Now, would n't you
lie, Mrs. Lyndsay, if you was me ? "

Anne looked up with interest as to what the an-
swer might be.

" I might ; I would," said Margaret. " I am afraid
I should." Then she put a sympathetic hand on her
friend's knee, while Anne looked grave, and Rose
watched Dorothy, with instant pity in her heart.

But this was not Dorothy's common way.

" My lands ! I 've been making a fool of myself ! "
She had the aversion of the strong to the alms of
sympathy. As she spoke she rose. " Come over and
see me when you feel right good, Miss Anne. I do
love a talk — and my roses! I 've got a lot of them
to blooming this year, and if that is n't enough to
make a woman happy, what is?"

W ith this she said good-by and went down to the
beach. Anne watched with envy, in which was no
un kindliness, the vigor with which the dugout shot
forth from the siiore. " A fine nature, that. It does
one good to talk to her. Example is a strange medi-
cine. It is hard to analyze its value. Because she
endures with patience, I may. Yes; my helps are
larger."

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

As Mrs. Maybrook walked up to her house she
thought over, as was the habit of her lonely life, the
talk she had had with Mr. Lyndsay and its occasion.
In her younger days of wandering, Hiram and she
had lived long amidst rough people in the West,
among miners and loose ruffians of all degrees of
wickedness. Thus the idea of crime was not so un-
familiar as to strike her as it did Lyndsay. She had
seen men shot, and had been where murder and
plunder wore common. She had overheard a half-
evolved scheme of villainy, one to be easily thwarted ;
nor, knowiug, as she did, Colkett and his wife, did it
greatly amaze her. Still, it was rare to hear of crime
on the river. She had found more or less explanation
of this wickedness in what she remembered of the
Colketts, and had said in explanation to Mr. Lyndsay :

"She was a right fine-looking woman when she
married Joe Colkett; but she never was less than
bad. She 's about the only one I ever came across
that would give her man — that is, her first man —
drink, and buy it for him, too, till she poisoned him.
When the children came, and two were idiots, like
drunkards' brats are, as every one knows, she put it
all on her first man — Fairlamb was his name. At
last she was left with them, and nothing to do but
get another man. She 'd have married 'most any one
to keep those children. That 's the only good pbout
her ; but the funny thing is the way that stump of a
fellow does love her. He does, though ! "

" A queer story ! " said Lyndsay.

Now, as she walked homeward, she said to herself,
"But who on earth was that Lady Macbeth Mr.

rtlM

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

139

Lyndsay talked about ? It must be a book. I forgot
to ask. Think I 'd like to read it. I '11 ask Miss
Anne. The way a woman p'ints a man is the thing.
Guess I Ve always p'inted Hiram straight, thank the
Lord! I wonder if he 's seen about mending that
scythe?"

Meanwhile, by noon, came lazily back Polycarp
and the canoe, without a bowman. Lyndsay was
vexed. There had been no one at the clearings 'who
could be had. Pierre, when he came in, must go
down with the mail. Said Lyndsay:

"Go back at once. Stop at the Island Camp.
There seems to be a lot of men about there. I saw
four canoes on the shore. The lumbermen are driv-
ing on that reach. Some one said a photographer
was camped there. He can't want both of his
men. Don't ask the gentlemen for a man ; I don't
know fchem. Now, mind what I say. Find some-
body; I '11 pay him a dollar for his half-day, but
don't come back without a bowman."

" It 's a great thing the way you p'int a man, papa,"
said Rose. " Mrs. Maybrook has the trick of it."

" He '11 find some one now. You had better fish
the rock stretch, a mile above the Island Camp. The
Indian knows, and no one has cast a fly there yet.
Be careful not to get on Mr. Carington's water.
Watch Polycarp, or he '11 let you fish down to the
bay. They arc all born poachers, these fellows."

Polycarp said "Yes," and no more, and poled
doggedly away up the river, not over well pleased.
At the camp he beached his canoe. The photog-
rapher had gone. The lumbermen could none of

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140

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

I )

iff

,! (

them get leave ; and the Indian, pleased at the pros-
pect of a lazy half-day with his pipe, was on his way
back to his canoe, when the tent-fly of the larger
canvas home was parted, and he heard:

" Halloa ! Want anything ? "

" Want man for bow to pole down at Clifif Camp.
Mr. Lyndsay he goin' a-fishiu', and my man sick —
hurt leg. No much good."

" Well, ask the lumbermen."

"No make any use." At this appeared a second
man, also, like the first, in knickerbockers. He wore
a glass on one eye, and looked Polycarp over curi-
ously. Then he went back, and lay down with a
novel and a pipe.

"Hold on!" said Carington. "Take one of our
men; Mr. EUett is n'c going to fish to-day." Then
his face lit up with a quick look of merriment.
" What fun ! I '11 go myself ! "

"You would n't do that? I would n't do that!"
said a voice from the tent. Now, opposition was to
this young man like fuel to fl'e.

"Why not?" he said.

" Might be awkward."

" Oh, you be hanged ! Look here, my man, what 's
yoar name ? "

" Polycarp."

" Well, you antique saint, I mean to go down with
you and pole for your Mr. — what 'a his name?
oh, Lyndsay, is it? I can pole. Don't be afraid.
Here 's a dollar if you don't let on, — tell, I mean."

The Indian grinned.

"This is a spree, Polyglot — Poly-carp — Poly-sal-

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 141

raon, or whatever your multitudinous fishy name is.
Do you know what a spree is ? "

" Plenty heap whisky," said the Indian.

" Well, there are varieties. Can you hold your
tongue ? "

"Yes — can hold tongue."

"You can fib a bit?"

" Heap much."

" Then remember I am one of the men up here, no
matter who."

" Weil, of all the absurd things ! " said the mentor
within the tent.

" By St. Botolph, as they say in Boston, I need a
little absurdity to make a decent average after a fort-
night with you, you confounded old conventional
et ccetemr And, talking or laughing, he presently
emerged in pretty well soiled velveteens, a dingy
jacket, slouched felt hat, and his trousers stuffed in
his long boots.

"Are you really going ? " said EUett.

"I am. Come along, Polycarp. I fancy I 'm
dressed in character. What fun ! He will want to
pay me," and he whistled as he pushed the bow out
into the stream and sat down to paddle.

Meanwhile Mr. Oliver Ellett considered his vanish-
ing friend from afar with mingled feelings of dismay
and admiration. " That is a very remarkable man.
I could n't possibly have done that. I think there
are several brief insanities besides anger." Then, as
if surprised at his own cleverness, he added, " I wish
Carington had heard that. Confound it ! " and he
smote an army of unseen midges who had taken ad-

4
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H ' '

;;

1 i^l 1

1 VI .

' t

1 *■''

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i
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142

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

vantage of his abstraction to prey on the ruddy
cheeks, which, with a sHght tendency to stoutness
of girth, gave him a look of youthfulness he much
detested.

" What was it Fred said last night about remorse
and midges? Confound it, I forget. Blank the
things! Get a smudge, Steve, — two smudges!"
And he retired again to the tent and his novel.

He had been drowsily considering the fates of a
despairing young woman for a half-hour or more,
when he was axyare of an unfamiliar voice outside of
the tent. Stcvo, the guide, an honest, good-tempered
Gaspe man, was heard to say :

"Mr. Carington — he went away a bit back. I
did n't see him, sir. I was getting cedar bark for
smudi>es."

" Where did he go ? "

"Michello, where is Mr. Carington? Where did
he go?"

" The bowman, fully prepared, replied at once :

" I don't rightly know."

At this Mr. Ellett bounded from his mattress, and
a^jpeared without. The voice he heard first was im-
mistakably that of a man of his own world.

" Begpard(m,"he said; ''I was dozing. I am Mr.
Oliver Ellett. Won't you come in ?"

" No, thank you. I have but a few minutes. I am
Mr. Lyndsay, from the Cliff Camp. I came to see Mr.
Carington. Is he here ? "

" No. He has gone off somewhere."

" On the river ? "

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 143

did

Mr.

" I don't think he is Ashing. Perhaps, if you were
to come in and wait a little, he might turn up."

But this Lyndsay declined. He had run up with
Pierre's canoe, and must return to get rid of some yet
unanswered letters and be in time to fish the lower
pool.

At last, after a little chat about the salmon, he
said: '^Are you not Oliver EUett's son, of Boston?
I think it must be so: the resemblance is strong.
We were classmates at Harvard."

" Yes," said Ellett ; '' he was ray father."

"He was stroke-oar in my boat. If you are as
good a fellow — oh, if you are half as good a fellow
— we shall be glad to see yf)u and your friend at the
Cliff Camp."

"It will give us great pleasure; and what shall I
say to Carington ? "

" That can wait. By the way, I sent that Indian of
mine to the lumbermen to get a bowman for half a
day. I trust he did not troul)le you. I gave him
strict orders. I saw he had been successful. We
passed him as I came up."

" Yes, he got some one," said Ellett. " It was not one
of our men." And so, with further talk of flies and
fish, he carefully conducted Mr. Lyndsay to his canoe,
and was relieved to hear him tell Pierre to land him
on the far shore.

" One feels the need to use one's legs here. Meet
me at the timber brow," he said to Pierre. " I shall
walk fast. Good-by, Mr. Ellett, and come soon to

•" i:

111

see us.

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144

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

Ellett stooxl a inoinont, and tlien went back to his
tent. " I wonder whom he is to pole for ? It is n't
Mr. Lyndsay. Christopher Cohimbus ! What a lot
of mischief you are responsible for ! No wonder Fred
says you have pretty near as much sin to your count
as that fair explorer who discovered the new world of
wickedness. By George ! If it should be the woman !
He stared at her, Sunday, through his glass as they
went bj', until I told him it was n't decent. He said
it did bring her pretty close. Well, I never heard of
falling in love through a telescope. Now, that was n't
a bad idea at all." He had no high estimate of him-
self, and was occasionally overcome at his own clever-
ness. " This beats my novel all to bits. More smudge,
Michelle ! "

Meanwhile the canoe ran down-stream, Fred Car-
ington in the bow, and Polycarp, with his change-
less, coppery visage, astern.

As the Indian had by no means hurried himself,
the morning was past and luncheon long over when
Rose saw the canoe returning. Lyndsay had not
come back. At all events, she would have the after-
noon fishing.

( IP

I I

if. J

bo his
is n't
a lot
[• Fred
count
)rld of
oman !
s they
[e said
»ard of
was n't
)f him-
clever-
mudge,

ed Car-
change-

himself,
er when
lad not
le after-

CHAPTER X

HEN Mr. Lyndsay reached home,
Rose liad gone, and he had no chance
to take a look at the new bowman :
he hoped he was competent. The
man in the bow especially has to
judge with decision as to the watery
way before him, to avoid shallows, to look out for rocks,
and instantly to obey every order from the stern.

When Polycarp's birch, for the Indians always use
the bark canoe, ran close to the beach, the bowman
stepped out, as the way is, into the water and drew
the bark to the shore. Polycarp, silent as a monk of
La Trappe, went up the steps. The boys were absent.
Miss Anne was off with big- voiced Tom, and Mr.
Lyndsay had not returned. Carington began to be
curious. *' Great Scott ! " he exclaimed, for here was
a young woman coming gaily down the steps. She
wore a boy's cap and carried a basket. Behind her
came Polycarp with her rods.

It is the business of the bowman to use his eyes and
not his tongue. The former were now discreetly busy.
I scarcely ever knew a talkative bowman. Talk is the
privilege of the man at the stern, who rarely hesitates
to advise as to the handling of a fish, or to converse
with easy freedom.

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140

WHEN Ahh TIIK WOODS ARE GREEN

.'U\

" I scarcely bargained for this," said Fred to himself.
" It 's high comedy, rather. 1 am in for it. Hero
goes ! " And he drew the side of the bin^h close to
the shore, readjusted a stone or two of those placed
for landing and then steadied the canoe. Miss Lynd-
say put a hand on his shoulder, stepped lightly in, and
sat down. As usujd in this watery travel the low seat
for the fisherman is set to face in the direction in
which the boat moves, so as to give the view ahead.
When about to fish the canoe is run ashore, — beached,
they say, — and the scat is turned so as to look to the
stern.

" We are to fish the upper — the rock pool, Polycarp ;
above the Island Camp — a mile or so, I believe."

" Mo know."

"And you are to bo careful not to go beyond a certain
dead pine, or to get onto the water of tlie Island Camp.
We don't know those people, and I wish to be careful.'

" Me know. Last drop best. Have to cast a little
over. No help it."

" No, not a foot ! These are a couple of Boston
gentlemen, and very likely to be disagreeable as to
boundaries." Rose was thinking aloud.

Thereupon the bowman was tempted — " I did hear
tell they was awful nice men."

" Indeed!" said Rose, not fancying this reply.

"There won't nobody know,'' muttered Polycarp,
with a chuckle.

"You bad old poacher," she returned, laughing.
" Here is some tobacco for you ; you may smoke, but
I can't have you chewing. As to poaching, I hope it
won't be necessary."

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE UKEEN

l'i7

)lycarp,

As sho spoko, the poloR olinkod as one on the rocks
and pebbles, and, keepinj? close to shore, they jjfradu-
ally forged up-stream, Rose lying back at lazy ease,
and hardly hearing the rare words of order or warn-
ing from stern to bow. By and by, being, as T have
said, an observant young person, she fell to noticing
the symmetry and strong lines of her bowman's
figure, and then the thick, brown half-curl of hair
under the felt hat. The action, as it repeated itself
over and over, struck her fanev. She took at last
to analyzing the movement, which beautifully brings
out th(* curves of the tense muscles. She saw that
poling on the right side begins with the left hand
above, the right below ; and that, in the recover and
forward lift for a new hold on the bottom, the right
liaiid is shifted above the left, and the polo is carried
forward through the relaxed gi*ip of the left hand,
and the push begins again. At last she took out her
sketch-book, and j)retty soon caught a neat likeness
of the man in the last moment of the forward shove,
when the balancing power of the man in these un-
steady vessels is the most severely tried. Her un-
conscious model, now warming to the work, had
half forgotten the awkwardness of the position in
the pleasure of this manly use of well-trained mus-
cles. A little later and he saw Ellott, as they sat
down to take their paddles to cross the quieter
water before the camp, in order to win the farther
shore. *' Confound his impudence ! " said Carington
to himself, as he became aware of his friend coolly
inspecting them with a field-glass from a bank on the
margin.

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS AUE OKEEN

: 1

III!

''Who is that man?" said Misss Lyndsay, turiiiiig
toward Pt)lycjirp.

" Not know name."

"Aren't there two p^entlemen fishing this reach?
How much water have they ? "

An Indian usually answers the last question, taking
no notice of tlu; first. " They got Mr. George — his
water. From bogan up to big tree."

"Bogan? What is that?"

"Just bogan," said Polycarp. His descriptive
powers, as well as his English, were limited. The
word which puzzled her is probably an old English
term. Still unsatisfied, Rose addressed the tall bow-
man. " What is your name, bowman ?"

" Frederick, ma'am."

" But your whole name ? "

" Fairfield." In fact, it was his middle name.

" T* hat is a bogan, Fairfield ? "

" A kind of a little bay like." He was about to say
a cul-de-sac, but stayed his tongue in time.

"And what is that yellow stuff all along the shore ?
It looks like sulphur."

" It 's the pollen of the alders."

" Pollen I " said Rose.

" Yes ; that 's what the gentlemen calls it. Drops
off them bushes, ma'am. Pulleu or pollen — I don't
rightly mind."

" Wliore is our ])ool, Polycaip ? "

" 'Most to it no'^ "

" Oh, there are the burnt lands," said Rose. "What
a dreadfully sad-looking place ! " This was a mere
personal reflection, unaddressed ; but the bowman

WFIKN ALL TFIK WOODS AUK GREEN

140

t'What
mere
)wman

was now in the spirit of liis part, and made a shy
(uist for a rise of interest in his human freight.

" It 's right mournsome-like."

The fish rose. " What a beautiful word ! Mourn-
some ! Fearsome is another good word uj) here.''

" Had n't wo best anchor ? " said Cariiigton. " I
say, Polyearp, how is it i I don't know this upper
water."

Rose took a look at the back of this ourly head.
The voice had not the intonations of (Jasp^^ l)ut rang
out clear over the noise of the rapids. Also the " a'si "
were broad, and there was a decided south-land note
in it, with which Rose was too unfamiliar to cause sus-
picion. Polyearp silently turned the canoe, and in
a moment beached it. Rose stood ; the chair was
shifted, and now in a few moments they were at the
top of the pool, a swift flow of dark water all around
them.

"Anchor — drop," said Polyearp, as they swung to
the current. '' Keepee hold short."

The stream was a hundred yards wide. The hills
rose high to right, and already a favoring shadow
was on the pool. Rose had lost much time by reason
of this trouble about the bowman. It was well on
toward evening. A fish leaped below and then an-
other. It was of a truth most beautiful, and the man
in the bow, who was now behind Rose, was longing
to say as much, but Rose was intent on other mat-
ters. A moderate-sized Jock Scott was adjusted, and
she began to cast, — still awkwardly enough.

" I must stand," said Rose. Then she cast better,
but still in vain. An hour went by. Two people

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150

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

were beginning to consider it a, little dull. At last
once more Polycarp said, " Drop ! " Rose laid her
rod on the thwarts, as they slid down some thirty
feet, the fly and leader hanging in the water, and the
butt beliind her. Of a sudden there was a mad
splash, the reel ran out, and the bowman, catching
the butt, raised the rod, and, leaning over her, put it
in her hands. " Take cai'e ! " he said, " he 's off,"
and away he went across the water.

" How splendid ! " cried Rose, as she lowered the
tip, when the fish made a mif^hty leap, eighty feet
aAvay, and his silvery arched form fell amidst foam
onto the dark waves.

" Look out ! More jump ! " cried the Indian ; and
again the reel clicked busily.

" Reel ! Reel ! " said the bowman. " Well done,
miss ! Reel ! Logs coming, Polycarp ! " It was true.
A half-dozen dark logs were coming down on them.

" Darn logs ! " said the Indian, much excited. " You
hold hard now. Tip up ! "

" Yes. Tip up ! tip up ! " cried Carin^ton. " There,
can you hold him ? If you can't, he will get the line
among the logs." They were now out of the current
in a side eddy. " So — so ! Hold there, Polycarp ! If
he waits a half • liiinute before he runs, we shall have
him. Good! He 's coming! Now lift him, miss!
Well done ! Reel ! Reel ! These running fish don't
last."

"See belly, — much dead. Yah," said the Indian;
and the gaff was in, and, amidst laughter and wild
splashing, which covered her with water, a fine salmon
was in the boat.

l^D'^

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

151

lan ;
wild
mon

"Admirably done, miss ! " said Carington. " That
was well handled." Then he added, " Them fresh-run
fish is tough uns."

Rose began, even amid her tire and excitement, to
be a little puzzled. However, they went back to the
same d. op, and the casting went on as before. A half-
hour passed. It was now long after six o'clock.

" See him rise, ma'am ? " said Polycarp, " Best fish —
heap late, heap best fish."

She cast again, and this time saw the swirl in the
water and a glance of white.

" Much hungry ! "

After a little while the fly was changed, and then
again, until at last the first fly was tried anew.

" No good ! He no come ! "

" Hold on a moment," said Carington. " Try this " ;
and he took from his head his soft felt hat and threw
it over to Polycarp. " There 's a fly in the band : try
that. It is a white miller."

" No good ! " said Polycarp ; but he put it on. The
next moment Rose saw a fish dart sideways through
the water, and with open mouth take the fly. Then
the anchor was up, and the fish away for a wild run
down-stream, the reel whizzing, pausing, and whizzing
again. For a half-hour of running and reeling this
went on. At length the fish hung out steadily in the
strong water, his head to the current, while Rose with
all her power held him.

" These runs down-stream are rare," said Carington;
" How strong he is ! "

For an hour the sky had been overcast, and the
river-bed in the nest of hills was fast growing dim.

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152

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

"Are you tired? " said the bowman. " Shall I take
the rod ? It might spell you."

'* Oh, no ! Thank you ! No."

" Grive him a little line — so, slowly; but be careful.
Drop the tip a little. It may tempt him to run again.
No ! How he holds on ! Might I suggest, Miss Lynd-
say," — he had quite forgotten his part in the excite-
ment of the contest, — "may I suggest that we drop
below him ? "

This was tried. The fish came duly down-stream.
The canoe was again brought to the bank, and again
there was the salmon out in the heavy water. Each
motion of his tail revealed itself by a single " click,
click " of the reel. It was now dusk.

" It is that limp rod : it has no power," said Caring-
ton, and, reaching over, he caught a few small stones
from the bank, and threw them at the point where at
the end of a perilously tense line the fish still held his
place.

" No much good ! "

At last she got in a little line. The salmon was
now not over twenty feet from her rod-tip ; but she
could no longer see, and it was near to eight o'clock,
and, by reason of the coming storm, far more dark
than usual at that hour.

"I shall be eaten by the sand-flies," said Rose.
" How they bite ! " It was now too dark to see line
or rod-tip.

" Hold her, Polycarp," said the bowman. " I will
make a smudge." And in a moment a thick smoke
was whirling from the beach, and cact around her by
the rising wind. Then, of a sudden, the smudge,

•M

WHEN ALT THE WOODS AEE GREEN

153

I will
loke
Irby
Uge,

blown into ruddy flame, sent a long flare of light
across the water. In an instant the line came home.

" He is gone ! " cried Rose, in accents of despair.

" No ! no ! " cried Carington, from the beach : " reel ! "

The fish, caught by the light, had rushed wildly to-
ward it, and run his nose onto the shore. The bow-
man, catching first a handful of gravel, stlzed it by
the tail, and threw it high up onto the shore, the
rod-tip snapping as Rose threw it back of her.

" Did any one ever see the like ? " said Carington.

*'Me see — twice — two time," said the Indian, as
he took the spring balance from the fishing-basket.

** Oh, this is fishing ! " cried Rose. " It must be
quite two hours ! I know what papa will say. He
wiU say, ' Bad fishing ! ' "

"But I assure you," said Carington, from the
darkened shore, eight or ten feet away, '' I can assure
you no one could have handled that fish better ! "

At this Rose was struck silent, and now she wanted
to get a good look at this eccentric bowman.

" No see," said Polycarp; "'bout twenty-nine pound;
got match ? "

" Ah ! " she exclaimed, for now in an instant there
fell a fury of driving rain, which struck her on the
face and hands like spent shot.

" Let me help you," said Carington. " Here. How
dark it is ! Take my hand. This spruce will hold
off the rain a while." Rose leaped out in haste.

" It won't last," added the bowman.

"But what does my fish weigh? Could n't you
strike a match and see? I want to know."

" Certainly, ma'am ! " he said, urgently sensible of

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WHKN ALL THE W()0!)S AUK (J KEEN

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the need to {jjet hiwk into chariietci'. " Best ^ot it
weijifhod soon. TIkmii ftsh drops \V(Uf;;lit ii lot." So
sayinjj:, ho to«)k ont a silver niateh-box, and, takin«^
three niat<'hes tojjfether, struek them on his coi'duroys,
and hastily covered them with the cavern every
smoker knows how to make with his hands. The
wind put them out at onc(!.

'' No good ! " said Polycarp.

" But I must know what my fish weighs," urged
this persistent young woman.

" Of course, ma'am ! " said the much-amused Car-
iiigton.

It had become suddenly still darktrr. Above them
tlu; storm roared, as it tossed the jdumes of the un-
seen tree-tops, and the spru(!0 was no longer a cover.
Miss Lyndsay squirmed, and gav(^ a little laugh, as
more and more insolent drops crawled down her back.

*' Do hurry," she said, '' my good man."

Meanwhile, Cariugton again lit a match, this time
in the shelter of his hat, and kindled the resinous
tij)s of a pine-branch he had torn away.

" Thirty-one pounds and over — say thirty-two."
As he spoke he held up the fiercely blazing branch,
so that its red-and-orange light flared over the water,
and, seen in a million drops, cast for a moment dan-
cing shadows througli the dense woodlands back of
them. In this wild light th(; Indian's visage stood
out like some antique bronze, and she saw for the
first time clearly a smiling brown face, clean shaven
except for a slight mustache. The bowman threw
the branch on the water, where it sparkled a mo-

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 155

"*wr>»^.

irew
rao-

mont, and said, (ilicerfully, "Will the canoe live iu
this wind, Polycarp?"

" Not know I Bi{^ much blow ! "

" (^)iifound it!" said the bowman. "I think wo
had bettor wait a bit, ma'am. Kind of rains like
them clouds was buckets turned upside down. It
«^an't last. Are you }^(!ttin' wet, ma'am U "

" No, I am wet," said Rose;. " Mama will Vx'i so un-
easy. Could n't we go ? We must go I How long
will it last 1 "

Polycarp was silent, and the deluge went on pat-
tering on the maples, humming softly or. the water
when the wind ceased, and the intervals of quiet let
into the (uir the myriad noises of the falling drops.
Rose s(t her soul to be patient. She was now too
cold for comfort, and vc^ry hopelessly soaked. But
it was like her to say, '' It h nobody's fault, and,
after all, it is groat fun." Then Carington, liking
the courage and good sense of the woman, forgot
himself again.

" Don't you think it is a little difficult sometimes
to say just where amusemiiiit ends, and — the other
thing begins ? "

"What other thing!" said Rose, too wet and shiv-
ering to be acutely criti(ml.

"Oh— discomfort!"

" But I think one may be botli amused and un-
comfortable."

"Guess that 's so, miss," said the actor. "It is
holding up a little. The clouds are breaking. By
George! we have a moon — a bit of one!"

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156

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

"Go now," said the sternman, as he tilted the
canoe to rid it of water.

'' Can we risk it f Are you sure ? " said Rose.

Cariugton smiled. He was about to add, gaily,
" Miss Lyudsay's carriage stops the way." He did say.
'* All right, ma'am. It rains a mawsel, but the wind 's
nigh done. We 'd have risked it alone. All ready ? "

In a moment they were away, in the power of tlu^
great river's night inarch to the sea. Never had
Rose felt as full a sense of this vast energy of resist-
less water. Again, as once before, she realized the
feeling of being walled in by darkness. Then there
came the fierce rush through white water, and things
like gray hands tossed up to right and left.

" Look sharp for salmon pillow," said the Indian.

'^ Yes, yes ! " cried Carington, intent on the stream
before him, silent, a little anxious. " Left ! left ! " he
cried. And Rose saw close by, as they fled on, a huge
lift of waves, and then again tliey were away in a
more quiet current, and the moon was out and the
torn clouds were racing across its steady silver.

" Here 's a paddle, ma'am," said the bowman. " Try
to use it ; it will keep you warm."

"Thanks," slie returned. "What a good idea,
Fairfield!" And now in a few moments she was
more and more comfortable, and in proportion in-
clined to talk and reflect. She concluded that the
bowman must have been thrown much with gentle-
men iii the fishing-season. She wondered if, on the
whole, it was good for a man in his position to see
the easy comfort of camps, the free use of money,
and then to fall back into the hardships and ex-

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 157

idea,
was
an in-
Eit the

entle-
311 the

to see
Qoney,

id ex-

posures of the winter himbering. The man puzzled
her n, little as she tried to reconcile him as he at
times had appeared with what she knew r\ust be
his common existence.

"Is lumbering hard work, Fairfield?" She was
now seated so as again to face his back.

" The woods, ma'am, is it, or the drive f " He was
safe here. No man knew better this wood-life.

"Oh!— both."

"The spring drive is pretty stiff work; beats a
circus, ma'am, jumpin' from log to log in quick
water. Ever see a circus '? " he added, with ingenu-
ous innocence.

" Of course, often."

" I 'd like to see a circus. I did hear toll of one
once. There 's the lights. Best let them know " —
and he smote the waters with the flat of his paddle.
" Guess they '11 hear that."

The next moment they ran on to the beach, where
Mr. Lyndsay was standing. He had been somewhat
anxious, but had laughed at the women's fears.

" All right. Rosy ? " he said. " Go up at once and
change your clothes. You must be wet through."

" I am all right, papa, and two such salmon ; one
took nearlj-^ two hours ! "

" Up with you."

"Yes, Pardy. Don't forget to pay the man. He
has been most capable and very thoughtful. I should
like to keep him always."

" What fun ! " thought the bowman,

" Need n't mind, sir. I can come down for it 'most
any time."

Hi ..

158 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GliEEN

; If

" I have no change, Rose," said her father. " How
much is it 1 Oh, a dolhir, I thiuk I said. Come down
to-morrow, and ask the cook now to give you some
tol)a(!Co."

"Thank you, sir, I does n't smoke — at present," he
added to himself.

" Stop, papa ! " cried Rose. " It is absurd to bring
this poor fellow all the way back for a dollar. I have
my portemonnaio." So saying, she searched it in the
dark.

" Have you got it ? Hiu'ry, Rose. You will take
cold. Bother the child. How persistent you are ! "

Her fingers encountered only a bundle of notes of
amounts not to be known in the gloom, and then, in
a pocket apart, a little gold dollar — a luck-penny,
kept for its rarity. She hesitated, but, being chilly
and In haste, said, " Here is a dollar, ray man. It is
one of our old-fashioned gold dollars; but it is all
right. I am very much obliged to you. If I want
you again, can you come?"

" Maybe, ma'am. Depends on the lumber-boss."

"Well, goodnight."

" Good night, ma'am."

" Do come. Rose."

'' That 's an odd sort of a man, Pardy," said the
young woman, while the canoe sped away, and the
odd sort of a man said :

" Set me ashore at the ox-path ; no, at the brow
above. I '11 walk up. I am soaked. I shall take
Colkett's d.igout and cross at my camp. Here 's an-
other dollar, you old saint, and if ever you tell, I will
scalp you ! "

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AUE OEEEN 159
'• All right, Mr. Caiiiigtou."

in^, carttully put it away m a safe pocket.

■III

I'l

CHAPTER XT

HE tmnsmutation of the oinotions or
tlio passions into out; another is
anionj"; the mysteries of the sphere
of morals. In sonui natures, ev(!n
the most saiered fjfrief, the outeome
of a chihl's death, I have seen eai»a-
blo of ehange into anj^er at a world in vvhieh such
thingfs are possible.

Susan had loved her sturdy little hoy with unrea-
soniuiif ardor, and indulged liini to the utmost limit
their seant nuNins allowed. Jlv had been like her
in face, and this pleased her. lie had, too, her nuis-
euline vigor, and seemed more bono of her bone than
the two idiots who had gone early to the grave.

She sat just within the doorway, roc^king. The
ehair ereaked at each strong impulse of her foot. An
oblong of sunshine lay at her feet, and in it a faded
crape bonnet, last relic of a day when prosperity could
afford to grief a uniform. It had turned up in her
vain search after a decent gai'ment for the dead. As
she continued to rock with violence, the loose planks
of the floor moving-, a toy ark, the gift of Dorothy to
the boy, fell from a shelf. Noah and liis maimed
beasts tumbled out, and lay on their sides in the sun.
She took no note of the scattered menagerie.

160

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WHEN AliFi Till-: WOODS AUK (MtKKN

101

TIk! room was in no worse tliiin its usual disar-
ray, with no sijjfii of that torribh; pnKUsiou which W(! as-
sociate* with the (Icath-chanibcr. At hist she; roso
(juickly, uiul, pushing the toys and bonnet aside with
an inipaticfut foot, hift tlie rocking-chair in motion,
and trod lieavily up and down tlie roon«, opening
and shutting her liands as she walked]. SIk; fed lier
rage with <'ach h)ok she (!ast on lier dead boy.

A far gentler woman one(* said to me that there
was for her in her child's death the brutality of in-
sult. Some sii(;h feeling was now at work with
►Susan Colkett.

In her young«ir life she had lived on a farm in
upper (Canada, a tall, pretty, slim girl, quick of
tongue, unruly, and with an undeveloped and sensual
liking for luxury and ease. Then she married a man
well enough off to have given her a comfortable life.
A certain incapacity to see conse([uenees, with that
form of fearlessness which is without fear until the
results of action or inaction are too evident, led her
to be careless of debts. Then her husband drank,
and grew weary of her tornadoes of unreasoning
anger; the idiot children came, and she began to
think of what even yet she might realize for herself
if he were dead. Making no effort to stop him, she
let him go his way, seeing without one restraining
word the growth of a deadly habit. Dorothy had
said that she helped his downward course even more
actively. His death left her penniless, but free. Men
were unwilling, however, to face her wild temper, and
when, at last, her looks were fast fading, to help the

only things in the world she cared for, she took the
u

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III

stout littl(^ iMim wlio hiul for licr Irom his youth an
uiK^hangin^ iiffootion. Mist'ortuut; taujjht lici* no
jfood lessons. Even now slie luited work, loved ease,
and laeked imagination to picture conscupiencies.
Amidst the animal distress iier <'hild's death oeeii-
sioned, she was still eapable of ontertjiininji; the
thought of erimo; in faet, her loss contributed a
new impulse in the storn» of fury it evoked. Thoy
wen; close to the end of their resources. There is
in Paris a Place St. Opportune. Who this saint was,
I know not. His biography might bo of interest.
There is probably a fallen angel of the same name;
who makes the paths of virtue slippery. Crime had
been near to this woman for yenrs, and ever nearei"
since disaster had been a steady (!ompanion. She
had lacked opportunity, and that alone. Nov was
this the only time she had cast teniptation in the
way of her simple-minded husband.

At last, as, striding to and fro, she went by the
doorway, she saw Dorothy, and with her n thin man
in shining, niuch-worn, black alpaca clothing.

She knew at once that he was the preacher who
had been l)rought up from Mackenzie to bury her
child.

Upon this she turned back into the room, and
stood a moment by the two chairs on which lay the
pine box which Joe had made. The little fellow
within it had been hardly changed by his brief ill-
ness. He was fair to see; white, and strongly mod-
eled; and now he was beautiful with the double
refinements of youth and death. She touched his
cheek as if to test the reality of death, and then

VVirKN ALL THK WOODS AUK OUEEN

lOl!

kissed liini, uiid, liiyiiij,' ovcf him tliu rudo cover,
tuniod iiwjiy.

At the door she met Dorothy and the minister.
J)()rothy said, " (iood morning-, Susan."

^' You 'vo been a heap ot time eomin'."

Dorothy, ^jflaniiinj^' at Mrs. ('olkctt, did not cuter,
but stepiHul to one sichs and, leaning against the h)g
wall, waited. The little man in the worn alpaca suit
was stopped as he turned to go in by the gaunt form
of his hostess.

*' There aiu't no need to go iu or to preach," she
said.

Upon this Dorothy plnckcnl at his coat-skirt, and,
mucdi end)arrassed, he fell back, saying, " That 's as
friends please."

Then Joe came from the cow-shed and went in ))ast
his wife. As he went l)y, he nodded cheerfully to
Dorothy and to the preacher. " 'Most ready ; won't
be long."

Mrs. Colkett stood looking across the clearing.
The preacher, uneasily moving to and fro, at last ap-
proached her again. '" My sister," he said, " the hand
of the Lord has been heavy on this household of his
people." From her great height Susan Colkett cast
her eyes down on the wan little person below her.
''It is fit," he went on, " that while — "

" Look here," said Susan ; " you 've come to bury
that child, and that 's all vou 're here for. Just set
down and wait " ; and so saying, she brought out two
crippled chairs.

Dorothy said, " No, I will stand."

The preacher sat down without a word, and found

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WHEN ALL TlIK WOODS ARE GREKN

! If'!

oeciipatiou in kQepiiij:^ liis pluco, as the chair-legs
bored unequally into the soft soil. At last, greatly
troubled, he h)oked toward Dorothy for eonsohition,
and, receiving none, at last fell on his knees in deep
despair. "Oh, Lord!" he cried, ''move the heart of
this woman that she may receive the message of thy
grace ! " and on this Dory too knelt in the sunshine,
while Susan turned and went into the house.

Then there arose within the rude noise of loud
hammering, and, utterly confused, the unhappy
preacher looked up, and saw that he was alone
with Dorothy.

"What manner of people are these!" he said, as
they both arose. "I must speak to her," and he
moved towju'd the door,

"I would n't," said Dorothy, touching his coat.
"Not now. Another time."

He said no more, and the pair stayed without,
waiting with no further words, while the hammering
went on. At last it ceased. Joe came out, wringing
a finger. " I kind of mashed it," he said, in an ex-
planatory voice. "Susie 's ready." He went back,
and soon came out again with the white box held in
front of him on his two outstretched arms.

The mother followed, looking straight before her
— a strange, high-colored, set i'ace, the tightly shut
jaw making hard lines in the lower cheek-curves.
The meager preacher came after with a book in his
hand, and Dorothv followed.

In the woods Joe stumbled once, and a moment
after set down his strange burden and wrung his
hurt finger. Then he went on again into the deeper

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AUE GUEEN

165

iis

lis
ler

vvoodlaud, luul ubout two Imiulrod yards froiu the
liouso .st(>[)i)(!d Hiid sot the box on a lijvol .stiiinp.
Bol'oro thoiii were two ('-i'mn})lod mounds of (iarth,
and beyond a sinall open j^rave, not over-deep.

The clerj^ynian <!anie t'orwai'd.

"I mij^lit put it in?" said Joo, interroj^atively.

" Yes," said Dorothy. " Let ine hel[)." And, tiikinf»'
the eoffin at each end, they let it down, for the jj^rave
was shallow.

" Them roots is in the way ; th(y bothered me
when I was a-di^^^in'/' said Joe.

" Husli ! " exehiimed Dorothy. " Hush ! "

As they stood up, the minister went on to read liis
simple burial service. Susan Colk(;tt paid, or seemed
to pay, intiMise fittention. At last he ceased, and all
stood still a moment in the deep wood-shadows, for
the twilii2,"ht was n(;ar at hand. There was a little stir
as Dorothy took from \icv handkerchief a handful of
roses and hit tlu^m fall into the open ^'rave. Susan
looked at her a moment, and then, turninj^ to the
prea(;her, said, coldly :

" Is that all of it 1 I don't want nom^ left out."

u Yos."

'' Don't ri(!h peoi)le have no more said than that ? "

"No; that is all," he rejuied, much astonished.
" Would n't you like; me to talk to you at tlie house ! "

'' No, I would n't. My num he '11 pay you." And
slie walked away. The minister wiped his brow, and
sat down on a stump, while Dorothy waited, and Joe
calmly boj?an to fill up the little grave.

He paused once to ji^ive the minister the cost of his

journey, and then went on.
11*

I' I

ii ft I
VI ,, nil

■I 5
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166

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AEE GREEN

i i

' ') pi

" Come," said Mrs. Maybrook. '' No ; don't go in,"
she added, as they passed the cabin. " Let her alone."

" The Lord has made my errand hard," he said.

" No ; he has n't took a hand in the matter at all,"
she said. " It 's the devil ! Come ! " And they dis-
appeared in the darkening wood-spaces.

Before Joe had quite done, he was aware of his
wife again standing beside him.

'' What 's wrong ? " he said. " Best wait in the
house. I '11 come. And don't bother none for the
supper. I '11 cook it."

" Could n't you set a board over the boy ? " she said.

'' Yes."

'' They 're just buried like dead dogs ! "

'* I '11 git souiothin'."

'' What 's the use, anyhow ? If you were any good
of a man, there 'd be a decent white stone like them
Lyudsays has set."

• Oil, I '11 find somethin', Susie ! I '11 think about
it." He was anxious to get through with it all, and
somewhere deep in his mind was moved by her want.

" It ain't no use thinking," she said, '' when you 've
got no money." And so, at laFC, she went away once
more to the wretchedness they called home, leaving
him to complete his task.

It was now dusk. He sat down on a log, and wiped
his brow with his sleeve. There was a little tobacco
left in his pouch. He lit a pipe, and sat awhile in
dull rumination, like some slow ox, recalling her
words. At last he took the pipe out of his mouth,
and stood up, as one set on the clear track of an idea.
A difficulty occurred to him.

WHEN ALT: THE WOODS ARE GREEN

167

ill
ler

" I '11 do it. No one won't know. There don't no-
body come here." A moment later a new obstacle
arose is his mind, and he resumed his pipe and his
seat.

" That '11 do," he said. " I '11 get Dory to help.
She won't think for to suspect none." And so, much
cheered by the prospect of pleasing his wife, he went
away to the cow-shed.

His had been a poor, loveless life. An orphan boy,
he had never possessed ability or power to win affec-
tion or respect for anything except his muscles. Yet
a canine capacity to love without question was in him,
and the tall, gaunt woman who alone had put out a
hand of apparent trust to him had all of his simple
attachment.

Now he extinguished his pipe, knocked it on a tree
to shake out the live ashes, put it in his pocket de-
cisively, and wont back to the house.

Ho had a sonsc^ of satisfaction in the notion that he
would surprise his wife with fulfilment of hor de-
sires : also he folt surprise, and as much elation as he
was capable of, at his own skill in seeing his way
through tliis enterprise. Wliat she, the poor hurt
mother, wanted was now in single possession of a
mind little able to transact mental business with more
than one importunate creditor at a time.

To take what is not your own is common enough.
The higher criminal mind disposes of the matter with
some sophistry as to the right to have a share in the
unjust excess of another's property. The utterly im-
moral nature gives it no thought, save how to act
with safety. The lowest type of man is untroubled

A r

1G8

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

as to the ethics of thieving, and as little as to per-
sonal results. Tlie idea that another might suffer in
proportion to what his own wife would gain never
passed the threshold of this poor fellow's conscious-
ness. What he was about to do seemed to him easy
and safe. He was certain that Susie would like it,
and would think him more of a man. And that
was all.

If I

CHAPTER XII

"i:~r

R. LYNDSAY, as we now know,

Ms ciiine bark without having seen Mr.
f (^arington. His purpose was, how-
■ ^" ever, uncihauged. Yet, as there was
no ini mediate need to act, and no
present danger, he concluded to
wait, (piite sure that the two gentlemen on whom he
had called must, when they returned his courtesy,
giv(! him an easy chance to say to Carington what he
had heard. Thus having decided what to do, and
that delay involved no possibility of mischief, he put
it all aside tor the time.

Meanwhile, the Island Camp was the scene of
amusing debate. The next morning, as they lay on
their tent mattresses and smoked that most blissful
first love of the day, the after-breakfast pipe, Ellett
took up the talk of the night before.

" I told you that you would get in a scrape.''

''It was n't that. 'My lands!' as Mrs. MayV)rook
says, what a noble adventure! If I only could do it
again ! No, I don't repent. Far from it ; I would
like to do it again. It was just too altogether de-
licious, as the girls say."

" But you will have to call. Mr. Lyndsay has been
to see you, and go to see him you must, if I have to
carry you ! "

169

170

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

( 1

,i' '

" But I can't and I won't ! I. am a bad boy. Just
now it is all a beautiful and adventurous dream. I
don't want to see that woman again — ever. It would
spoil the romance of it. Go yourself. You can drop
down in mid-morning. No one will be in. Leave my
card on the table."

" What stuff, Fred ! You can't get out of it. Mr.
Lyndsay wants to see you. He called on you, not
on me."

" But I don't want to see him. Imagine my having
to explain and apologize, and fetch the whole thing
down to th(! dreary level of prose. I am ill; I am
dead; I shall go liome — anything!"

He was at his high level of reckless enjoyment of a
deliglitful indiscretion, and a part of his delight lay
in the distress it occasioned his soberly conventional
friend. He was himself, in truth, a graver man than
Ellett, but took into his work as a successful engineer
the same gaiety which ran riot in his holiday hours.
It had its value with the men who did work under his
eyes, and helped him and them over some hard places.
At )ieed he l)ecame instantly a cool, watchfid, cau-
ti(ms man, with the bearing and i'(*serve of middle
life. To those who saw him oidy in his utter aban-
donment of glee, readv as a bov for auv merrv enter-
prise, and by no means disliking it the more if it
brought i)hysi('al risks, it was hardly conceivable that
he should be, l)ack of all this, a man of strong opin-
ions, politi(*al and religious, of definite views, and of
an almost fantastic sense of honor.

" Can't you be decently (piiet a moment, and think
a little?"'

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 171

Ilk

" Don't waut to," returned Carington. " Git away
v/id ye ! You arc like Eve : you want to introduce a
knowledge of good and evil into this Eden of mine.
Go, fish and let me alone. I want to dream it over :
that scene in the wood, the rain, the wild orange,
light for a minute, that copper-head saint. It was
really great, Oliver! Beats the Bowery Theater!
And, oh! — I forgot to tell you. She told her pa I
was such a good howman ! — so thoughtful ! and
could n't she have me always ? Always, Oliver ! The
bliss of that ! "

" I don't see how you can see anything amusing in
it, Fred. It is n't as if this was some common New
York girl, with a boarding-school civilization. Now
that 's a rati. or neat phrase, *a boarding-s(!liool
civilization.' "

'' Is it ? What else ? ''

" Nothing. I only meant to say these Lyndsays
are gentlefolk, and won't be very well pleased."'

"You old idiot! Do j^ou suppose I don't know
that? Put vour brains to work. Here am I at tlu;
end of the first volume of a lovely romance; situa-
tion entirely novel. I wish to stop there ; the
second and third volumes are sure to fall oft' dis-
mally. The problem is, how not to go on ; or, if I
must, how to drop fnnn poetry to prose."

" I should think you must have dropped pretty
distinctly when Mr. Lyndsay paid you; I suppose
he did."'

" Si)', I was paid in gold of the Bank of Spain — in
coin no h)nger curi'ent — by the, woman herself."

" Would you kiiiuiy interpret ? "

!■ I.

I |i

172

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

ill'.

I'll

" I will " ; and lie told the seonc on the bt'iich.

"Let nie see tluit i^old dolhir."

" Sec it I Not I. No pntt'ane eyes shall — "

" Stnflf and nonsense ! Slie will very likely want it
back. Probably it was a liu^k-penny."

" Very like. I shall keep it for luck. You are an
iconoclast of dreams. Let 's j?o and kill fisli. I have
been trying to divide my enchanted mood with you.
It has been a dismal failure. The fact is, I know as
well as you — and a blank si<;lit better — that this is
a lady, that thesis are nice; people, and tliat I am in a
scrape, lint to-day they may all go to the deuce and
the bow-wows. ' Let the great world spin forever,
down the ringing grooves of change.' Ho must have
meant a railwav. I never thought of that before.
Don't bother. I '11 go and call some day. Come,
let 's kill salmon." And they went to their canoes.

While this dreadful thing was agitating Mr. Ellett's
mind, it was also receiving due consideration at the
breakfast-table of the Clilf Camp.

Rose Lyndsay, des[)ite remonsti'aiice, had been H'ut
at once to bed on her return, and supplied with hot
tea and more substantial diet, and oi'dered to go to
.sleep. Next to being wicked through and through,
to be wet through and through was, to Mrs. Lynd-
say's mind, one of the most serious of lumuin catas-
trophes. Slu^ was gently positive, and so Rose lay
very w^ide-awake, and considered at ease the events
(►f a most agreeable day, until, thinking with a little
regret of her luck-penny, she fell asleep, only to wake
up with the sunlight streaming in as her mother

WHEN ALFi THE WOODS ARE GREEN

173

opened the curtains, and to hear the pervasive voices
of the boys sinj^inji^ under her window :

Up iu tho morniu' 's iiae for me !

[its
tie

lier

" Overslept yourself, Rose ! "

*' Are you dry yet ? "

*' That salmon is only thirty pounds. You awful
fraud ! "

" All right, dear, to-day ? " were the salutations of
the noisy table, as she distributed her morning kisses,
and at last sat down.

" One at a time," she replied. " Fair play, boys.
First, I am nearly dry. Second, salmon always loses
weigiit."

*' I have noticed that,'' laughed her father. " Tell
us all about it, my dear." And upon this she related
the adventures of the previous day.

" I must have my luck-penny," she added. " I was
a goose to give it away, but I was so cold and wet,
and I was in such a hurry. I hated to send the man
away without a cent."

" It is odd that he took it," said Anne.

" Yes," returned her brother. " These fellows are
sharp enough about their pay and about money ; and
he could n't have known what he was taking. These
coins circulate no longer, even in tlie States. He
never said a word, but merely put it in his pocket.
What sort of a fellow is he, Rose ? "

" It is so hard to describe people."

"It is impossible," said Aune, " even on a passport."

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174

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" Not quite. Tall, and curly hair — very curly hair."

y That 's satisfactory, Rose," remarked Jack.

'' I had not douo. Oh, what I thought strange was
the man's manner. Now and then he spoke as if he
was *^^alking to an equal, and really he has a voice
quite full of pleasant tones. The next minute he
talked like Thunder Tom, or worse."

"I must ask Carington about him. By the way,
I was right as to Ellett. He is a son of my old com-
panion. I fancy they will bo here to-day or to-mor-
row. If this present Oliver is like his father, he will
be solid, stolid, — a rock of good sense."

*' I don't want him, Marcus Aurelius, nor the other.
Foi" a first-class B. 0. I prefer my young man of the
gold dollar. But I must have it again. I am not at
all sure now that honesty is the best policy. When
you see Mr. Carington, Pardy, do ask about the man.
He seemed quite above his class. Ned, I cannot wait
for 3'ou to finish your interminable meal."

''I think he just chews for exercise," said Dick.
*' Might arrange, if the meat was tough enough, to
keep his appetite up all the time. Would n't that be
fine, Ned?"

"I don't think any of my boys require artificial
aid," said Mrs. Lyndsay. "Dugald Dalgetty was a
trifler to you."

"I have n't got to the fish yet, and it 's my own
salmon," said the boy, helping himself.

"We want to have Rose to-day," said Dick, be-
tween mouthfuls. "I want her to go up to the
brook. There 's a marsh there, and Drosera — oh,
lots! It 's far north for it, too."

WniON ALL TIFK WOODS ARE GHEEN

17:

til

'• \Vliat is Droserji, Dicky f "

'' Fly-tmp ; and thero are some [)uri)le onjhids."

*' For tills onco I will comproinise," said Anne.
" I want to see Archie kill a salmon. If you will as-
sure me of Rose to-morrow afternoon, you may have
her to-day."

" And I am to take care of myself," said her bro-
ther. ^' I never hear of compromises without think-
ing of Dr. North's illustration. I must have told
you, ^Margaret."

" If you ever did, I have forgotten."

Stories were pretty often retold in this household,
and it was tlie way to consider them as guests to be
made welcome, no matter how often they came.

Lyndsay smiled. " Two Germans, who were North's
patients, built houses together and adjoining. Then
each of them bought paint enough to paint both
houses; one chose green and one a fine bri(;k-red.
This ended in a (piarrel. Dr. North advised them to
consult their priest, and this they did. He said,
' Sliust you nuike a gompromise, and migs de baints.'
So this was done, and neither got what he wanted.
This is of the essence of all compromise."

" But I shall get what I want," said Anne.

"And we, too!" cried the boys. "We will take
Rose and lunch and Big Tom, and Pierre and you
can have the Indian, father."

"And his lame bowman, if he be well enough,''
added Lyndsay. " Thanks."

" And I shall take my rifle," said Dick.

" No, unless you go alone," said Lyndsay.

" All right ; we '11 fish for trout, Rose," cried Jack.

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176

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

I.'

" Red Head can hunt beasts in the swamp, and Ned
shall sit ou a stump and make poetry."

" Be sure not to be late again, Rose. I was a good
deal troubled last night."

" Yes, Pardy 5 but my watch has stopped. It got
wet through, last night, poor thing ! I fear it is ut-
terly ruined. It was not worth much."

" Never mind, dear," said Anne. " I will give you
one when we get home." To give was Anne's great joy.

" For a drowned watch intemperance is the cure,"
said Lyndsay : " total immersion in alcohol or whisky
is the sole remedy. I never carry one here; it re-
minds me too much of the minor oppressions of
civilization."

"And, after all," said Anne, " punctuality is a quite
modern virtue."

"Yes. I think a Quaker in the reign of Anne
has the terrible responsibility of the invention of
the minute hand. In another century we shall say,
* You are late six seconds ; is this the way you keep
engagements ? ' "

" It makes one shivr.. io think of it ; and, by the
way. Jack, I promised you a watch at Christmas. Be
sure to remind me."

" I 'd rather have something else. Aunt Anne."

"Whv, Jack?"

" Oh, I know lots of fellows carry watches. They
have an awful time."

"The watches?"

" No J those boys. If you have a watch, you have
to wind it up, and the fellows ask what time it is ;
and if you play, it gets smashed ; and if you have a

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

177

fight, you have to get another fellow to hold it, and
he forgets — "

" Gracious ! The simplicity of the mind of youth !
You would prefer — a new bat ! "

" Yes, indeed, and a good foot-bali "

" I am a female Kriss Kringle, — presents to order."

" Thank you. Aunt Anne. And I say, Rosy Posy,
get lunch ready. Oh, quit eating and come along,
Dick ! "

Upon this Dick secured a biscuit and followed him,
while Anne and the rest went out onto the porch.

" I trust, Margaret, those young men will not re-
gale you and me with their society at lunch. "What
a wholesome thing it would be to have a man-
smudge! I get no time to read. But you said
Dorothy would be over to lunch. That is better.
What fun it would be if the stolid, solid Boston man
should turn up. I could enjoy the combination, I
think." Then she walked to the cliff-edge, smiling,
for there was a battle imminent between the boys.

" I mean to paddle," said Jack.

"No, I '11 pole."

" Not with me in the canoe," said Rose.

" I 'm to paddle," cried Dick.

'' May I sit by you ? " said Ned.

" You sha'n't, if I can't pole," cried Dick. " You
always want Rose."

" You 're hard to please, boys."

" I 'm not ; I 'm soft to please," said Ned.

" Get in ! " And so, with some coaxing from Rose,
the peacemaker, they got away.

"And I should like a boy-smudge, Anne," said

1^ ':]

v^-

178 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

Lyndsay, who had quietly watched the proceedings
on the shore.

"They are delightful."

"You have no responsibility for them, my dear
sister. You know what Marcus Aurelius says: 'Ir-
responsibility arises from an unphilosophical indif-
ference to — to — '"

"Consequences," cried Anne, laughing. "You
worry too much over the boys, Archie. I mean it.
You take them too seriously. Permit me to say you
are too consequentitious"

" What a word ! Did you make it ? I can't help
worrying. I am always thinking of what their fu-
ture will be. One should give some thought to the
morrow, and other people's morrows are the real
difficulty."

" See Marcus Aurelius, chapter third," said Anne,
maliciously. " ' To-morrow is only a stranger ; when
he is to-day consider how thou shalt entertain him.' "

"That is not my way, Anne." And he left her,
saying, "Jack is the one I fear for most."

" I least," said Anne to herself. " I shall not be
here to see, whatever, as Tom says." Then she sat
down to her book about the Council of Trent, and by
and by varied it with a little tough work on Caed-
mon's Anglo-Saxon riddles, smiling as she read, — a
good, half-dozen kind of smiles, of which she alone
had the secret.

By and by came Margaret Lyndsay and sat down,
her knitting-needles clicking, until Anne's unlucky
nervousness, kept in hand with difficulty, was viciously
alive. At last Mrs. Lyndsay laid aside her work with

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

170

a certain deliberation, for those who knew her best a
signal of serious moment. She said, "You won't
mind, dear, if I say something I have had on my
mind?"

"I? Oh, no! What is it?"

" I sometimes think, dear, that the endless triviali-
ties into which you and Archibald lead those boys are
not, dear, a good thing. I have spoken to Archibald
about it, and he quite agrees with me. I sometimes
think Archibald agrees with mo too easily. I would
rather he argued the matter ; but he is so apt to say,
' Certainly, Margaret ! ' and then to go and smoke.
I do wish you would consider it seriously. And you
are so capable of wiser and more instructive talk.
You won't mind what I say, dear?"

" My dear Margaret," replied Anne, with some irri-
tation, "shall we converse about the Council of Trent?
Also the enigmas of Caedmon are instructive; the
manners and customs of the Angles are stated there
in a manner to combine interest with amusement, in-
struction with perplexity."

"Why do you answer me in that way? You al-
ways do. Anne, you are too bad ! You know well
enough what I mean."

" Yes, I know," she said, a little wearily. " I think
you are hardly just. You see only one side of things.
At all events, the whole logic of the situation is this :
When you have a headache, you go to bed and dose
yourself, and put stuff on your temples ; when T am
in pain from head to foot, — I was at breakfast, — I
go merry mad and say things. You will have to
stand it, unless I go away."

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180

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GKEEN

" Oh, Anne I How can you hurt me so? Go away?"

"I spoke hastily: I don't mean that. But some-
times, Margaret, you so completely fail to compre-
hend me that I feel I had better be away. You can
never change me."

" But you — you could change yourself."

"Could I, indeed? And trust me, Margaret, I
shall go on as gay, as inconsequent, as merry ; but
if I can teach, if anything in m}'^ life teaches these
boys to laugh when they might cry, I shall not have
lived in vain. I am sure we are all grave enough at
times. When I go wild, and say absurd things, pity
me. A jest is my smelling-salts ; a joke is my medi-
cine. Believe me — oh, it is true: the custom of
laughter is good."

"But this constant amusement at everything —
yes, everything!"

" There is quite enough that is serious, even now,
in these young lives. The laugh of a fool is as the
crackling of thorns, and heats no water in the pot ; but
the grin of the wise boils the kettle of wisdom. There ! "

The illustration was unhappy.

" I think, dear, you might put Scripture to wisei*
use than to twist it into a defense of this perpetual
levity. It seems strange to me that you cannot see
these things as I see them."

^ " Better to give me up as a hopeless case. I shall
laugh till I die, and if afterward the supply gives out
I shall feel glad that I neglected no reasonable chance
on earth."

" There is a time for all things, Anne, and some-
times — "

WHKN ALL THE WOODS ABE OBEEN „1

This was' the ZS^ Ct "^l" ""''^■"
was mentally victor b"t„t '^'''^^'^'^ion^ Anne
r Hn, sure thlt wHI be b^f r^'^ '^H^.'^^- " Yes,
»way with a smile that w.^ not .Tit! V"°' ^*"*
her room she stood a mome^ anH f? ?'""'"*• ^»
I think that is good Cneh Th t""?'"°-^-M!
from the gentlef" and sofeil ^^^"^ '^''^"'' "■"
with set teeth and very '"ale "^ "" "'^ ''^'''

t.5)

12*

CHAPTER XIII

and good temper,
the wise man said :

EANWHILE the overladen canoe
went away up the river. "And
now, boys," said Rose, "this is my
day, and there must be no quan-els.
We are pretty well packed in one
canoe, and I will have only sunshine
And do sit still. Remember what

Three irishmen of Timbuetoo,
They went to sea in a birch canoe.
They kicked up such a hullabaloo
That they never got back to Timbuetoo.

Remember that, boys."

" Oh I " said Ned. " I know a better one —

There was a young man of Siam,
As occasionally murmured a damn !
Monotonous virtue
Is certain to hurt you ;
So he swallowed a taciturn clam."

'' "What nonsense ! " cried Rose.
"That 's good about monotonous virtue," said
Jack. "A whole day and no row!"
" Not one," said Rose.

182

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

183

"Why, Rose, if a fellow don't fight somebody,
what 's to become of him?"

"I guess we are n't any less brave than the Ro-
mans," remarked Ned, sententiously. " If you gemini
had a hornets' nest to fight every day, you would let
me alone. I hate to fight."

" Oh I There 's a nice fat fib."

"I do. I had to eat dinner standing up for two
days after that scrimmage."

" Yes, little peaceful man ! " said Jack. " Tell us a
story. Rose. It 's an hour to the brook."

" Very well. Once on a time there was a princess.
She was terribly rich, and as pretty — "

"As you," said Ned.

"No interruptions, sir! She was very beautiful,
and very, very hard to satisfy. A great many lovers
came to ask her to marry them. None of them
pleased her, but so many came that to save trouble
she wrote a big ' No ! ' on her visiting cards, and
gave every man one as he came in, and this saved a
great deal of trouble. When there were no more
lovers left in the world but only three, she began to
be afraid she would never get married at all. So she
tore up her cards, and was polite to these three.
Their names were Hurdy-Gurdy and Trombone and
Mandolin. At length her father said she must make
up her mind. At first she thought she would draw
lots, but by and by she resolved to marry the most
courageous of the three."

" Oh ! " exclaimed Jack, " I like that."

" One day they were all four walking by the river,
and, as if by accident, she fell in. *0h, dear!' she

184

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

eried, ' I shall drown.' Then Hurdy-Gurdy sat down
and began to whittle a shingle ; but Trombone
jumped in, and, as she Hopped about a great deal, he
was like to drown himself. Then in jumped Mando-
lin, and pulled them both out by the hair.

"Then all three spread themselves in the sun, to
dry. And the princess said, ' Now, which is the most
courageous V

"Trombone cried, *I! Because I dashed hi to
save you, without hesitation.'

" * But,' said Mandolin, ' you did not save her. I
pulled you both out.'

" ' I was first,' said Trombone.

" ' Certainly ! ' said the princess, which her name
was Henrietta, and she was so called because she was
fond of algebra, and preferred even an improper frac-
tion to the most virtuous of men. Said she, * What
good was your courage, if it only served to drown us
both ? You are neither of you as brave as me.' "

" Oh ! " cried Ned.

"They always speak bad pvammar in fairy-land,
because it is romantic, and btoause then the young
princesses can be sure that the princes are thinking
more of them than of the mere choice of words."

" Guess Jack would have a fine chance ! " said Ned.

" Don't interrupt me. Where was I ? Oh !

" * You are neither of you as brave as me, because
I have to marry one of you, and that is an act of
courage of which a man is incapable. Also, I can't
swim, but I fell in so as to see which of you is the
bravest. I fell in ! Trombone jumpel in ! Mandolin
leaped in ! '

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

185

" ' But I saved you!' said Mandolin.

" * A mere question of brute skill,' urged Trombone.
* It is braver to jump in when you can't swim than
when you can.'

*' * It is very puzzling,' cried Henrietta. * The per-
sonal equation — '"

" I know what that is," cried Ned.

" Shut up, old wisdom ! Go ahead, Rosy Posy."

" ' It is a question in the rule of three. As Trom-
bone is to Mandolin, so is mo to the answer.'

" ' That leaves me out,' said Hurdy-Gurdy.

" * You stayed out ! ' cried Mandolin, with scorn.

*"I don't see my way,' said the princess. 'Let
Mandolin bo B, and Hurdy-Gurdy C, and I am — '

" ' B, C puts them both out of the question,' said
Trombone. ' They are dead.' "

"Sancho Panza!" cried Ned. "What fine non-
sense ! "

" Do keep quiet," said Jack.

" * And me — I — oh, bother ! ' said Henrietta. ' It
comes out even.'

"'But,' said Hurdy-Gurdy, 'it is heart-rending
what I suffered. I alone had the courage not to jump
in. I had the courage of my opinion, which was that
I should be drowned, and so break your heart. I
really could n't. There are three hundred and twenty-
one kinds of courage.'

" Gracious! How numerically interesting!' said
Henrietta. * Dry yourselves, and I will reflect.'

" So she left the three seated on the bank, in the
sun, and went away. But once a year she sent her
maid to see if they were dry, and to say she was

180

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

working it out. The second year Hurdy-Gurdy went
awuy, because he was a person who had a good deal
of decision of character,

'* There ! " cried Rose, laughing. " It 's a little too
old for you."

" Well, of all the stuff! " said Dick.

" I call it bully," said Jack.

" And whom did she marry ? " cried Ned. " Never
any one ? "

" Never ! Like Rose Lyndsay. I am going to live
with you all my life at home, and never, never marry."

Upon this the t .vins intimated their satisfaction by
pulling Ned's back hair. He howled loudly.

" Seems to answer the bell," said Jack.

" Oh, stop that — it hurts ! "

" Look out there ! " cried the sternman. " You '11
upset the birch. There are too many of you, any-
ways."

Again Rose called them to order, and they were
silent a while. In the mean time she sat gazing up
the changing watei'way. This home-coming, this
abrupt transition, this privilege of abandonment to
every light, innocent folly, even to enjoying the mad
fun of three clever boys, made for her an immense
change, and one which she felt to be both whole-
some and pleasant. In Europe she had come fully
to understand the sacrifice Anne had made in order
to be with her, and at last to see but too clearly that
Anne Lyndsay was failing. To none was this so
clear as to the sufferer; to none less clear than to
her brother. As to Margaret, she was by nature
conservative. The word hardly describes what I

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

187

mean. She had an inherent belief in the unchang(>-
ableness of things and people.. The death of Harry
had been the first calamity in a prosperous life. She
had so long seen Anne Lyndsay to her mind full of
levity that she found it impossible to accept the idea
that for this woman, who lowered her crest to no ad-
verso hour, the time could not be very far away
when she would cease to smile at pain.

Miss Anne, of her own will, cut short by three
months their intended length of stay abroad. She
had seen how heavy was the burden of responsibility
which this fatal descent placed upon Rose. In fact,
to be alone with a woman like Anne was good only
if the younger person had intervals of other com
panionship. Anno made a too strong call up'ou the
apprehending intell'^ct to be as a constancy good for a
growing girl, and her matchless cynicism in talk, which
found no representation in her acts, was tempting as
an example and easily capaWo of misapprehension.

This long stay with Anne had been "or Rose a
severe test of character and even of physical power.
Without altogether realizing the true cause of her
rebound into unusual joyousness, she distinctly felt
the relief of her new surroundings.

" There is the brook. Rose," said Ned. " "We '11
fish, and build a big fire, and cook our own fish."

They were now above tli^ clearings, and on the far
side of the river.

" Wliat canoe is that up the stream, near the far
shore ? ''' she asked

8 Mr. Oaring on's. He ' took a bit of water
It. L ndsay's unper pool. U ain't much good."

•ii

188

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GKEEN

" You are sure it is Mr. Carington ? "

" I don't rightly know. It 's too far."

After this they wont ashore on a broad beach,
through which a quick run of brown water from the
swamps inland found its way out to the main river.

Rose took a book and sat down, while the boys
cast for trout at the mouth of the brook. After a
while the twins tired of this and set to work to build
a fire on the higher rise of the shore, while Tom
cleaned the fish they had captured. By and by came
Ned and sat down with his sister. Now and then he
called her attention to a salmon, or, at intervals,
asked Rose questions not always easy of answer. At
last he said, " There is a spring back in the woods, —
comes out of the hollow of a big, old balm of Gilead.
I found it."

" Oh, we must go and see it aiter lunch. I know
few things I like better than a spring, — and out of
a tree."

" Yes ; must n't it be comfortable for the old tree?"

" Rather," she said, and fell silent.

It was now quiet and warm — no leaf astir — a
noonday dreaminess on wood and water. " That
canoe 's dropping down," Ned said. " Is it Mr. Ellett
or Mr. Carington, Rose ? He does n't get any fish."

" I don't know. I was half asleep. How nice to be
where all the noises are sounds one likes ! "

" Do you hear the rapids. Rose ? I thought yester-
day they were exactly like children laughing — I mean
their noise."

"I said that very thing to Pardy, the night we
came up."

WHEN A.. XHK WOO.« ^«, „„^^,, ,,„

cheorful." ^ ™'' '" ■> way, it did souiid

"I don't tiiink tho
noises, Rosy... '"^ ^'"' ^'"'Vs mates peasant

around the curve ^^ '^ '^''"^^' *« ^ard them

-^:ia^rcjrhf:;^^

Th7 : « appose/' said Rose. "Ask n« .

The rock was some ei^ht fJi,; ^^P^*

«'nooth, except toward hi 1 ^''' ""^^"^^d and
'-«ken and spIinteT^d ''''"■^^^^^' ^^-<^ ^^ was

"Where are the men? Thof f? •

"'They are in the wood If ' J' f *"" ^^^•^^^•"
to «ie fire." ""'* ^***^' ^'^^^^^ bark. I ^Ji ,ee

"By Jove!" he oria^ « i i
"f-ok sharp, Rose""!:"" ."""""^I to his feet.
ielped her to rise Sh. i i f '""^ ''"'' » '">nd, he
this thing had happe^td 1 1."';"*"' ^'"''y &
small bear cub, T ittt'd n rt"'-"P^^<' »
sprawling over he roZ^T ' "* '""" ^.-uin,
beach, between hin. aTthetS "'it"" "'" "' *-«
'>'gger than a well-n-roa-,, i -^ , " ""^ "ot much
•"nd leg in a„ insta^ I j waf ^^ """^ " "^ one
of his capture, the eintnl T""^ '"''' 'he fun

Ned spoke, JaisaVtSrubTed"*! """""'''y- ^«
of the wood, and, a mom7ntt^ wT'''^""''"''^""*
the bushes. Ned dr^^^"^ Is ^L l'''^ -"""^

gs«u nis sister toward the

' *^

190

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

water, as the bear, fiercely growling, began to move
toward them. As for Jack, he was away around the
boulder, and in an instant upon top, the young bear
giving him a smart nip, as he stood on the summit,
flushed, resolute, and laughing.

" Fling it down ! " cried Ned, with good sense.
But Jack was otherwise minded, hardly taking in
the peril for Rose and Ned. Dick had dashed into
the wood, calling wildly to the men.

" Let it go ! " cried Rose. Then there was a loud
cry from the river :

" Drop it, you fool ! "

" Not I ! " cried Jack. '^ Run, Rose ; he '11 go for
me. Run ! run ! "

As he spoke, the savage bruin reared herself up in
a vain effort to climb the smooth stone. Jack, on
the boulder, laughed, as he balanced himself with dif-
ficulty, owing to the struggles of the cub. Seeing
that to climb was impossible, the bear proceeded to
make a flank movement, which would hav^e enabled
her to follow Jack up the back of the rock. The boy
was in no way alarmed. But now he saw that Rose
was in the path of the bear, and that Ned, white as
death, was standing between Rose and the enraged
mother, a canoe-pole in one hand, and the other mo-
tioning back at Rose, as he called to her to " Run !
run ! "

Just as Jack, appalled at these unlooked-for con-
sequences, was about to part with his precious cap-
tive, a voice rang out again from the river : " Run !
run ! Quick ! "

Ned cast a glance behind him, and, catching Rose's

^"'^-'iy on n earner otrooiT^ """ *^"' ^«W
beside her. I„,te„t]y a" We rT "'fj'""^'' dowf
behind them. As fhey jl T T"™'" «>« ri^er
"Ping»0farifle.ball abov'T- '"' ''""<' 'be shrill
dead ou her side, clean sh' h "' ","'' *^ l*^" roUed
Jack leaped tromZ h„ '■""^'' ""^ ''ead.

eame o„t i„ haste ".!'"' ' ""'" "'"' ^'*
Carington sprang into the 'rr'" *''' ''^'«"'-

cantionsly b„t swiftly „„«, T '"'" ""'' ''<»''™eed
7"^ dead. Next he tl'rneTLlr J'"* '^'^ "^"'t
less on the beaeh. As the l! ^V'^" % motion-
with scare or e.citemenf i[^^°' ''"'^^' ^«» ^^
knelt, lifted the girl a"d t '"''"' "''"»■'<' bi„, he
blood leaping i„ fittk'^t f™?', " ?'" ""■''»<' »'
b- head against his knee f'd^ f' T"''' ^^ '''
wound, saying: ^ P"* " ^nger on the

Gret me water Tf ;«
I* might have been worL"" " '"^- «"«'' I-^d I
;; Is she dead? "said Ned.'
He ;"ft 1 ■'':' "^ '"y-'»' ^be."

f fery, as he gave dfre!tfort„ T°™ ""^ ™' <"' «'e
from Ned's hLdkerS"";^^^^"™ "^ T^ " P^
t-ed tightly around her head I ?'' '"'* "'^n

-- tbe bleeding. MeSe^rre^^-^^ ^

)', .;

192

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

recognizing the competence of the improvised sur-
geon.

** That will do," he said, looking at her as he knelt,
and letting her head rest on a cushion from the canoe.
" I think she has only fainted."

" Oh ! " cried Jack, " I was afraid — Be still, you
beast ! " to the writhing cub. Carington gave him a
look, and again considered the fair, young face be-
neath his gaze, the blood on neck and dress, and the
red splashes on his own attire.

"That is better," he exclaimed, for Rose opened
her eyes, looked about, confused for a moment ; then
rallied her faculties, and said, feebly :

"What is it? Where am I? What has happened!"

" It is all right. You fell down."

" Oh, Fairfield ! Is that you ? Where is Ned ? "

" I 'm here."

"And Jack?"

" Oh, I 'm all right ! And the bear 's dead.''

" The bear ? Yes, I know now. Dead ? "

" Mr. Carington shot him," said Ned.

" Mr. Carington ? Wliere is he?" cried Rose, sitting
up, and still a little dazed.

"Keep quiet, boys," said the young man. "Back
a little. Take that cub away, sir. Can you stand,
'liss Lyndsay ? Here, take a little brandy from my
flask. The explanations can wait. Why, you are
quite strong. Now, then. Don't look at the bear;
come." And he supported her to the canoe, talking
as he went, to keep her from questioning.

" Now, then," — turning to Jack, — " you must wait
here, sir. You cm go in Tom's boat with Miss Lynd-

i*rt*M

193

^. y^arjtijs iqo

say"-tIiistoJVed ^'j^-,,
"You are better T« -^f' "I">»st-"

^'-t her eyes andtw leT ?'' ""* '""^^^^ f^'
past excitement. ^' ■*' *"<' «™ tingling wit™

L^Zy;"^ "'"'- --ytOin. by and by, Miss
" Thanks ' " «1ia »v,

b«a.-: «Po„.. „,, ^ ^P'^ h?r:/'r'"« "' ">«

down with his tm,breson7 '"'^- ^"^^ sat
had been sharply snubbeTanTr '^""^ """t •■'
;« 'he track of Rose's i^lt %Vh' ™""' «"■» «~y
•ngton cried ont : "^^ ''« Passed her, Car-

''Are you aU right f..

"S, thank you I"
"Well, don't talk" A„j i.- .
^t ^e hin.se. takingtrhi^^J^f" J- b^t

i '1

,al j

104

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" By George ! My little comedy came near to a
tragic ending. How Ellett will rate me! What a
mess!" And he considered a moment his bloody
knickerbockers and stained stockings.

" Your face is all over blood," said Michelle. " Best
wash, sir. Might scare 'em worse than a bear."

" That is so." Ceasing to paddle, he took the boat
sponge, and made a hasty toilet.

" Am I clean, Michelle ? "

"Well — pretty fair, sir. You are right well
painted. It was awful lucky you took a mind to try
for a shot at that other sea) "

" Yes. Shove her along ! " He took the paddle
again, and fell to thinking, until they came to the
beach. There was no one in sight. He ran up the
steps, noticing that there was one canoe on the shore.
Then he paused, and, returning, called Tom.

" Go up and tell Mr. Lyndsay I want to see him."

Presently Mr. Lyndsay came down the steps.

" Mr. Carington ! " And he stayed a moment, sur-
prised at the appearance of the blood-stained man.
" What is it ? " he said. " x\nything wrong ? "

" Miss Lyndsay has had a slight accident. She 1j
all right now. I came on ahead to tell you. It is
really — really not serious. They were scared by a
bear on the beach. I was lucky enough to kill it,
but, in trying to escape, your daughter fell and
sh'uck her head, and — oh, it bled a bit. Oh, here is
the canoe."

Rose, freshened by the air and motion, got up,
laughing, and ran to her father.

" Rose, my dear ! Rose ! " he cried.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ABE flBEEN I85
appearance to still perplex her "'^

-jrra:;:r^-^^^^^^^^^

^^e™. the hear, a„a the^rt'l-'at^-T-rthe-
seeing Rose safely ti bed. ' '"" ^^'''" '"

CHAPTER XIV

RCHIBALD LYNDSAY went down
to the beach again, where Caring-
ton, not very happy, sat waiting on
the stern of his canoe. He rose as
his host came near.
" This way," said Lyndsay. " And
now" — as they walked to and fro on the upper
shingles — "may I ask you to let me understand it
all?"

Carington quietly related the scene on the shore,
omitting nothing. When he had ended, Lyndsay
said:

" I have probably to thank you for a life which is
very dear to me. I have no words in which to say
what I feel. We are very deep in your debt."
" Oh, any one would — "

"No — I understand. You are a little like myself,
I fancy. To have too much obliged another has its
embarrassments. I won't ask you now to let my wife
say her own thankfulness ; but come and breakfast
to-morrow, and bring Mr. EUett."
" With pleasure."

"By the way — and you will pardon me — what was
all that about Fairfield and a bowman ? "
" Simply, Mr. Lyndsay, that I am still, in mv holi-

M^*

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

10'

(lay times, a bit of a foolish boy, aud when Polycarp
carae up for a man and could get none, I supposed
it was for you, and just as a frolic induced him to let
me play bowman. I had, of course, not the remotest
idea that it was for Miss Lynds y. May I ask you to
accept for her my most humble apologies?"

"I see," said Lyndsay, laughing. " It has its amus-
ing side."

''Yes, but — Well, it ceased to be amusing when
I realized the annoyance it might bring to Miss
Lyndsay."

" I dare say you will be able to make your peace,"
said his host, as Carington took his hand. At the
boat, to which he walked with the elder man, he
paused :

" May I say a word to that boy of yours ? "

"To Ned? Yes, certainly." He called, "Ned!
Halloa! Come here!" for the lad had gone up to
the cabin with Rose.

" Coming," cried Ned, from the porch, where, with
Anne, he was trying to make a good case for Jack.

Meanwhile, as Lyndsay was ordering a boat up to
Jack, Ned came down to the strand.

" Mr. Carington wished to see you," said Lyndsay.
"Good-by, and breakfast at half-past eight to-mor-
row " ; and so, with ready tact, he went up the cliff,
leaving Ned with Carington.

"I wanted to see you a moment, Ned, while the
matter is fresh. I want to say that I saw the whole
affair on the shore. I was but thirty yards away.
Perhaps you won't think it a liberty, my lad, if I say
you behaved admirably, and kept your wits, too.

13*

198

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AliE OliEEN

You showed both g" »od sense and courage." He spoke
as it' he were addressing an equal.

Ntnl flushed with pleasure. " Oh, thank you ! ''

''That 's all. I think you and I shall be friends
after this. You must come up and see me ; we might
kill a salmon. Good-by." And he pushed off.

Ned stood a moment, in his thoughtful way, and
then went back up the steps to Miss Anne, who was
now at ease as to Rose, and well pleased with her
dearest nephew.

" What was it ? " she inquired.

'* Oh, not much — nothing."

" I think I know."

'* Yes ; he wanted to say you had behaved well."

'* Oh, bother, Aunt Anne ! What 's the use of your
asking, if you know ? You always do know."

Then Ned went away, and Archibald Lyndsay came
out and strode uneasily up and down the porch.

" Archie," said Anne. " Brother."

''Well, what is it?"

" Are you troubled ? "

"Yes, of course. How should I be other than
troubled?"

"But why?"

"Why? Jack has behaved like a selfish, thought-
less — "

" No ; he is not at bottom selfish. Thoughtless —
yes; and he has the vices of his virtues. He is so
bold, and so resolute in action — so enjoys the peril he
creates. Can't you see what such a character wants ?

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 190

lo
le

You may rest assured, my dear Archie, that he is
quite enough punished."

" He is incidentally punished."

*' But—"

"I don't want to hear any more, Anne. Ho has
behaved like a blackguard."

"No."

" Confound the women I " he said, and walked
away ; but in an hour was at the shore to meet Jack,
who landed a little dismayed, his gnintiug cub still
expostulating in the only language known to juve-
nile bears.

" "Well, sir ! I have heard this agreeable story ! "

"But, father— "

" I should think you might be fatigued ! "

Now, a good kicking would have been preferred
by any of these boys to the fathei-'s sarcasm.

"Go up to the house, undress, and go to bed. I
don't want to see you for a day. No words, sir, or I
shall lose my temper. Off with you — you are not
fit to associate with gentlemen."

Without a word more. Jack went up the steps and
did as he was told; in consequence of which Mar-
garet wept a little, and Anne, who thought on the
whole that Jack had gotten off better than she ex-
pected, betook herself to her books, with a full de-
termination to have it out with the boy in her own
way, and at a later date.

It was well into the afternoon when Carington
reached his camp, and found Ellett still away on
the river.

!'!

J I:

20U

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE OUEEN

il '

M I

" I shall catch it ! " said Fred, with a griu at the
prospect. He niado use of the interval to change his
clothes and get rid of the stained garments, after
which he ordered a smudge, pulled open the tent-
flaps, and cast himself on the camp mattress, for the
first time realizjiig that he was tired, or, at least, had
that sense of languor which follov/s upon intense ex-
citement. Tlie tent-fly was up — the triangular space
thus open to view framed prettily the beach, the men
and canoes, the river, and the hills beyond. The
smoke of the cedar-smudge at times dimmed the pic-
ture. At last, being absolutely comfortable, the cush-
ions just right, tlu^ midge and black fly routed, he
carefully flUed and lit his pipe, reflecting, as he did
so, on the varied value of tobacco, which he had
never misused. Next he sought in one pocket after
another, until he came upon a worn note-book.
Among its scraps of verse and memoranda he found
the well-known apostrophe of El Din Attar to the
pipe. He read it with a smile.

" * O wife of the soiU, thou art wiser than any who
bide in the harem. A maker of peace thou art and a
builder of prudence between temptation and the hour
of decision. Can anger abide with the pipe, or a
gnat in the smoke of the tent-fire ? Lo, wine is but
wine for the simple, and a pipe but a pipe for the
foolish ; and what is a song to the dumb, or a rose
to the eye that is blind ? A bud of the rose findeth
June on the breast of the daik-eyed ; a song must be
sung by the heart of the hearer. And thus are the
pipe and the smoker. Also of it the king hath no
more joy than the beggar, saith El Din Attar.'

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARK GREEN 201

" A pipe is u pipe, and u rose is a rose, be it prim ov
not," 8uid the happy youug fellow, laughing. " There
Ih no new wisdom. To think what Wordsworth
would have said to that? If Handet could hav((
played upon this pipe, would he have been nicer to
Ophelia?" His own meerschaum had been a friendly
counselor at times. " (Jracious!" he laughed outright
— u good sign of a man that ho can soliloquize
laughter — "if I should fall in love, and the woman
hate tobacco ! " He let his fancy wander, and began
to reflect, lazily, and yet with some curiosity, on the
person he had saved from a serious, if not fatal,
calamity. " T got out of tluit comedy pretty well," he
said to himself. '' But, by George ! it is rather more
awkward to put a person — a woman — under such
an obligation as this. How I should hate it ! I won-
der, does she ? I suppose she won't be at breakfast.
That, at least, is a comfort." Then he reflected that,
with people such as these, he would not be too ab-
surdly overwhelmed with gratitude. At last he
turned to a book, fully satisfied that, on the whole,
he had the best of it, and that there was no need to
growl at Fate.

In a minute or two he exclaimed, " In-door poetry,
that " ; and dropped the volume of too dainty verse.
The substance beneath was not worth the polish on
top. He was not in a book mood, or disposed to
anchor. The hours slipped by without freight of
urgent question or answer. He was in a dreamy
state, and, liking the hazy indistinctness of its de-
mands, invented for his use, with a smile of approval,
the word, " Vaguearies."

if!

I' '.I

li'l

202 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEI^

Smiling, he made note of this verbal find, as EUett
came up the beach.

"What pleases you, Fred? And what is all this
row the men are talking about?"

" One at a time. I was hoping that the woman I
shall love will take generously tc my pipe."

" She will be a fool if she don't. I always advise the
women never to marry a man who does n't smoke. You
see, if they fall out a bit, she can always say, ' Well,
just take a cigar, Fred, and think it over.' I am sure
the proportion of divorces must be smaller among the
couples that include a smoker. Good notion, that ! "

" It is on the heights of wisdom ! "

" Is n't it ? And you have n't been fishing ? "

"Yes; I did fish, but I got no fish. I caught a
mild little adventure."

" Michelle began to tell me — "

" Michelle be hanged ! These guides are always
dramatic ! "

" WeU, and what was it happened ? Tell me."

" Talk to you about that by and by." He was in-
disposed to have too much made of the incidents of
the morning. Why, he could hardly have explained.
He did not want Miss Lyndsay discussed. Perhaps
this was what the doctors call a prodrome — of a mal-
ady known to man and maid. Love may, like other
forces in life, assume many forms before it unmasks
and we know it as love. The correlation of forces
obtains in the world of the emotions as well as in
that of matter.

"How confoundedly queer you are sometimes,
Fred ! I can wait, I suppose ; but I don't see why."

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

203

"Oh, because my mind is an absolute vacuum.
That is a rather interesting thought, Oliver, quite
worthy of Boston ! Fancy an entire mental vacuum !
Is it any more possible than a physical one "? Don't
you think there may be a zero of thought, as of
cold — or of heat, I should say?"

" Nonsense ! " cried EUett.

" Want to know ? Do you ? Well, I was seriously
thinking that when we can get photographs in colors,
it will be a delightful thing to collect sunsets."

" I don't care a continental malediction for sunsets,
or thought-zeroes, either. What 's the matter with
you ? Michelle says you shot a bear, or a young wo-
man — I am not sure which. He was a little mixed
about it. But why you should — "

"I was only chaffing you, old man." He was
really, and like a child, putting off an inevitable an-
noyance. He knew he must talk of it all to his
friend, and felt himself ridiculously unwilling either
to make it seem grave or to treat it as a matter for
jesting comment. Not to understand the cause of
your own states of indecision is, for the habitually
decisive, most unpleasant, and yet silence may make
a tuiiig seem important which is not.

" What happened, Oliver, was this." And he quietly
narrated the incidents of the morning.

" I congratulate you, Fred."

"And why?"

" Well, if you are idiot enough to ask that in sober
earnest, I am not fool enough to reply in kind. And
so Miss Lyndsay knows who her bowman was ? "

"Yes."

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204

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" Did she like it ? "

" How the deuce do I know ? "

"But I should think you could tell. I hope that
gii'l lost her temper. Girls who can't lose their tem-
pers can't lose their hearts. That 's pretty good,
Fred!"

" Nonsense ! Who wants her to lose he^* heart ?
You can judge for yourself, if you are curious — we
are to breakfast with them to-morrow. Get any fish ? "

"One — only ten pounds. The new run is up,
Pierre says. Saw plenty of small fish leaping. But
about these Lyndsays ? "

" Let 's have supper. Hang the Lyndsays ! ''

" Both, with all my heart ; and I will also suspend
my opinions, if it suits you better. Was n't bad,
that ! " And then, as Fred walked away to stir up
the cook, EUett muttered, " What the mischief 's gone
wrong with the man ? " And so, being a kindly fel-
low and considerate, as far as he knew how to evolve
in action this form of social wisdom, he dropped the
subject for the evening, and, as Miss Anne used to
say, " left time to pull the chestnuts out of the fire,
when they were cool enough to be useful as diet."

CHAPTER XV

I^J^l^P

ARINGTON had slept off his brief
ill-humor, and the friends were in a
happier mood as they flitted down-
stream next dav to breakfast with
the Lyndsays.
At the Cliff Camp things were
not so entirely joyful. Mrs. Lyndsay, after a talk
about the simple bill of fare with the black cook they
had brought with them, paid a furtive visit to Jack,
who was condemned to such tranquillity as was pos-
sible, even in bed, for a human machine as restless.
She administered a tender scolding, and left him with
a book or two. Next she softly opened Rose's door,
and, finding her comfortable and smiling, said, " No,
dear, you are to keep still to-day," and left her to
reflect that, on the whole, she was as well satisfied
not to meet the "two single gentlemen rolled into
one " before the entire family. However clearly the
matter had been explained, there remained, and she
colored as she thought of it, the remembrance of cer-
tain things she had said to her bowman. Nor was
it quite pleasing to imagine herself discussed by these
two strangers over their evening meal. The scene in
the boat — " She would like to have him always as
her bowman ! " The scene on the beach ! And then the

205

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?06

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

obligation ! The debt to an unknown man ! In what
currency should such debts be paid? She smiled, as
she quoted to herself :

What need
Good turns be counted as a servile bond
To bind their doers to receive their meed f

Then, having no other more consoling thought on
hand, she began to recall how the novelists had dealt
with these situations. A man saves your life ! What
then ? As far as she remembered, it always ended in
the woman giving the man what he saved — a life ! —
her life ! She would have liked to have certain books
to see precisely what they did say, or Aunt Anne,
who was herself and generally all books beside. As
she played with these questions, a little amused or a
trifle annoyed, Miss Anne knocked, and was vrelcomed.

'■'' Aunt Anne," she cried merrily, " what would you
do for a man who saves you from a horrible mauling
by a bear, or possibly from death ? "

" The novelists marry them. That cancels the debt,
or makes the woman in the end regret the man's skill
and strength."

" Aunty, that is very cheap cynicism for you, and
at eight a. m. ! "What will you be at dinner ? "

" I repent, dear. I hate the sneer — easy and ob-
vious. I am always penitent over verbal wicked-
nesses that are mere children of habit, and have no
wit to excuse them. Is the question, dear, worth
considering ? "

" Oh, but seriously — "

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

207

"I mean seriously. V/"ould it not depend on the
moral make of the people concerned ? Clearly, when
those involved are of one world, likely to meet, — to
have continuous relations of some sort, — it must lead
to close friendship when the debt of life is merely
between man and man."

"Yesj but when a woman owes an unknown per-
son — a man in her own class — an obligation like
this? She must feel it — really feel it, as I do."

" My dear, you are a little absurd. Many debts re-
main unpaid, and should so remain. How do you pay
your debts to Shakspere? And, after all, this is a
small affo'r — Mr. Carington was in no peril."

" No, it was n't that. The thing involved courage
and decision. Papa has told me all of it — all. And
the ball went only a couple of feet over dear Ned
and myself. Any one but a brave and positive man
would have hesitated — and, just a moment more!
It is dreadful to think of it! Dreadful!"

" Your gratitude is quite too analytical for me,
dear."

" But do you believe, aunty, with mama, that there
cannot be true, simple friendships between man and
woman ? "

" Man and woman "? A large question."

*'Yes."

''Certainly, I believe there can be — more likely,
more easy, more possible with us than in Europe. I
know of many such, where what was in youth a friend-
ship, limited by conventions, became, as years went
on, a larger, deeper, more valuable relation, and yet
only and always a friendship."

208

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

"Thank you!"

"I think myself that when women — married wo-
men — grow wise, they will want their husbands to
have women friends. Margaret would say, 'That is
an old maid's opinion.' Nevertheless, it is mine, and,
as I have chosen never to marry, it is valuable. The
old maid is a sort of neutral, with the wisdom of
both sexes."

"I should like to choose my husband's female
friends."

"Should you! I have not talked it out yet, but
now I must go. I want to see how your creditor
behaves. He may be a true Shylock and want —
how many pounds do you weigh, dear?"

" You are horrid, aunty ! I certainly do not think
you have settled my questions."

"How can If or vou? or he, for that matter?
Time, dear, not only answers letters, but also doubts
and diflflculties. As a consulting physician, I am
told, he is unsurpassed. You are, naturally, in a
state of unease to-day, and had better wait until you
see what kind of a draft on the bank of gratitude
you are called on to pay, or honor, if you like the
word better. I don't know whether, nowadays, com-
mercial men use the word, or the thing. You might
send him a silver pitcher, the inscription to be, ' To
my preserver, from the preserved,' or else — "

" Go away, bad aunty ! " cried Rose, laughing.
Once alone, she began upon her coffee and rolls, and
wished it was next month, and thus, like Carington,
turned over her hot chestnuts to pussy-cat time.
They were too hot for her.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

209

I'ried wo-
bands to
'That is
line, and,
ble. The
isdom of

's female

; yet, bnt
I' creditor
d want —

not think

,t matter?

Iso doubts

an, I am

ally, in a

until you

gratitude

1 like the

lays, com-

[ou might

[o be, ' To

^ughing.

rolls, and

|arington,

3at time.

Miss Anne went out on the porch, and began watch-
ing, with the interest she took in almost all earthly
pursuits, Ned's efforts to tie a salmon-fly, while Dick,
beside him, was feeding the drosera's hairy leaves
with minute black gnats, and considering, through a
lens, the ferocious certainty with which the vegetable
monster closed upon the captives cast among its sen-
sitive limbs. Presently Dick said to her :

" Aunt Anne, is father very angry with Jack ? "

"Yes."

"I 'ra sorry, because — because he really did n't have
time to think — and it was n't cowardly."

'^ No, it was n't that."

" But I ran away." He had a vague feeling that to
prove himself to have gone amiss would be to lessen
the enormity of Jack's conduct.

" You went into the wood to call the men, and were
the first back on the beach, my Prince Rosy-locks.
You are a first-rate liar ; but, as you are a Lyndsay,
you are not .i coward, and you had better kick your-
self well for insulting Dick Lyndsay !

I may not turn, I may not flee,

Though mjiny be the spears ;
I should not face with better grace

The array of my fears.

I do not blame Jacky as much as your father does.
I understand him, I think."

" He feels awfully, Aunt Anne."

"That will do no harm, Dick." The boy turned
again to the drosera and his lens.

vlllll

'.1

210

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

Anne was herself so entirely brave that not even
the prospect Of the coming of added pain had ever
been able to make her timid. All forms of courage
were to her intelligibly beautiful, knowing as she did
that if its mere instinctive form be meaningless, it is,
in its higher developments, the knightly defense of all
the virtues. She pulled Dick's ear, playfully, and said,
finally:

" Jack will be out at noon. The less you say about
it, the better."

" I guess so," remarked Dick.

"Ah, here comes Mr. Carington. Now, boys, be-
have yourselves at breakfast. No nonsense, mind !
This is to be a very pretty-behaved family ; we will
make up for it at lunch."

The two gentlemen were in turn presented. There
were the ordinary greetings, and no word of allusion
to the day before, except that Mrs. Lyndsay, in a
quiet aside, said to Carington:

" I shall not be quite comfortable until I say how
much I thank you — for all of us — all."

" That is mc re than enough," he returned, ** How
is Miss Lyndsay ? "

" Wonderfully well ! " And presently they went in
to breakfast.

"Here by me, please, Mr. Carington. Anne, sit
next to Mr. Carington. This seat, Mr. Ellett — on
the left."

The boys, a little subdued, contented themselves
with quiet inspection of the new guests, and the talk
slipped readily, in skilful hands, from the subjects of
fish and the weather, and flies and rods, to other less

i. »

c ^

WHKN ALL THK WOODS ARE GKEEN 211

trivial matters. Anne was unusually silent. She was
studying the unconscious Carington, who soon noted
the absence of Jack, and as quickly understood its

moaning.

" Yes," said Lyndsuy, " these Gaspe men are most
interesting. They are clever, competent, and inher-
( \tly kindly, really good fellows ; but their trouble
io, and it does not trouble them, that they uave no
persistent energy. I confess that, being myself, at
least while here, without energy, I like its absence."

" Is n't it a vast relief, af tri* the endless restlessness
of our people," said Anne, " to fall among folks who are
contented, and home-loving, and so uncomplicated '? "

" I certainly think so," said Carington. "And what
a "urprise it is to meet the stray descendants of loy-
alists hereabouts and on the ' St. John's' — I ought to
say the 'Aroostook,' there are so many ' St. John's.'
Some of the best of the Canadians are descendants of
those people ; but, for the most part, those who settled
in certain quarters of Lower Canada are down again
to the level of mere laborers or fishermen."

"And no better off," said Ellett. " I mean no more
energetic than — well, tha,n I am. I hate the very
word energj'. I quite share your opinions. Miss
Lyndsay. There is a nice little conundrum about
that word — sounds better in French. But, pardon
me, I never repeat conundrums, or make puns."

" I am so sorry. Are you past persuasion ? "

" Entirely."

" Even as a personal confidence ? "

"That is another matter. It will keep. I think,
Mr. Lyndsay, you were about to say — "

II!

1. ';'

'!!■

f '

212 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" I forget. But no matter. One may talk about, and
about tilings, at breakfast especially. It is pleasant
to feel that you may kick — that any one concerned
may kick — the foot-ball of talk without reference to
a goal."

" I don't think my friend Carington would agree
to that," said Ellett. *' He likes talk to be well feath-
ered, and go straight home — "

"And I like it," cried Anne, " to be well feathered,
and go zigzag home, or not, like a bird."

"And, for my part, aside irom Ellett's calumnious
nonsense," laughed Carington, " I have no social
creed as to good talk. If it bears sharp analysis, it
is probably poor talk."

" But," said Anne, " there are some essentials. One
must reverse the great maxim that it is more blessed
to give than to receive."

Mrs. Lyndsay regarded the maiden lady with a look
of reprobation, in which were trial, judgment, and
execution. She reserved her verbal attack for a bet-
ter occasion, while Anne, unconscious of offense, went
on, " Was n't it Mr. Lowell, Archie, who said at our
table, when you questioned him as to the best talkers
he had met, * Oh, the best are those who meet you ' ?
I thought that delicately put."

"But then he added," said Lyndsay, "when you
mentioned G. M. as on the whole the most remark-
able of dinner taikors, that he had not the essential
conversational art of punctuation. That his sen-
tences were like those of Judge Jeffries, eternal
How one spoils such a thing in the telling ! We all
smiled at it a little. Our friend himself liked an

'^5

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AUE GREEN

213

out, and
pleasant
(ucerned
irence to

Id agree
jU feath-

sathered,

amnions
o social
alysis, it

Us. One
! blessed

;h a look
ent, and
or a bet-
ise, went
i at our
t talkers
et you ' ?

len you
remark-
Bssential
his sen-
eternal
We all
iked an

audience, and to have, at times, the royal freedom of
unbroken talk. North, a friend of ours, Mr. Caring-
ton, has a theory thai breakfast talks are the best."

" I should think so," said Ellett, and then began to
think he had been rather critical, and added, *^I
mean — well, I usually breakfast alone, and a fellow
can't talk to himself."

'* This fellow can," cried Anne.

" He meant," said Lyndsay, '* that breakfast talk is
apt to be general and gay; l)ut that at dinner you
have the cares of the day on your back. It takes a
little effort, or a little champagne, to get up steam."

" But I have no cares," said Ellett.

" Then," cried Miss Lyndsay, " we will all dine with
you, and you shall do all ihe talking."

"That would suit my sister admirably," laughed
her brother. " Did you ever notice how silent many
of these woodmen are ? "

" Yes," said Carington, " that is true. The wood-
land life has the same effect upon me."

" That 's curious," remarked Miss Lyndsay. '" Cer-
tain people blast me with utter dumbness. It might
be useful if it were kept up long enough to form a
habit. I mention that to anticipate my brother. One
does sometimes say what one does n't want to say —
but, oh, I do think one much more often wants dread-
fully to say what one had better not say."

"I think that is true," said Mrs. Lyndsay, with
reminiscent gravity.

" Which ? or both f '' said Anne, in an aside.

" By the way," said Lyndsay, " talking of these un-
lucky relics of the royalists, and, in fact, of too many

' I

< ;

214

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AUE GIIEEN

on thcso coasts, tho most euorgetio of us would suc-
cuuib to tlu'ir tMivirounuuit."

" Yt's ; there is thut poor devil, Oolkett," said
(Wiuj^ton, "a ^ood hunter, a hard worker — I am
tohl, a tlrst-rate lumbernuiu — and yet always in
want."

"To judjife from my daujjjhter's acieount," said Mrs.
Lyndsay, '* the wife is his difficulty."

Hy this time tlu^ boys wen? at ease.

*' What is an ' environment,' Aunt Anne ? " said
Neil. *' Is a wife an environment ? "

Ellett lau{>he(l. " Sometinu's sln< is."

" Knvinmments are surroundinjjfs — a man's sur-
roundiiij^s." She always answered tlu* boys seriously.

" But does a wife surround a nuin ? " urjijed Ned,
oblivious of his place as a boy ainong elders in his
k(M'u pursuit of a meaninp:.

'' I should think so ! " said Carinj^tini. " Wait till
vour turn comes! You will see!"

'' I am (piite sure Dorothy Maybrook is a fair illus-
tration," said Anne. "It is a {?ood sermon on the
condu(^t of the matrimonial lifts to see that woman
what slie calls ' p'int ' poor old lliram."

*'An intere!«tiuj^ person," returned Carington.
"Don't y<m think so?"

" It hurts a fellow to see a woman as placid as
that," remarked Ellett. Whereupon Miss Anne ad-
justed her glasses, and took a look at the small, ro-
tund man.

" Why ? " .she said. " Why does it hurt you ? "

He hesitated a trifle, and then replied, "Well, it
sort of knocks all the excuses out of a fellow's life."

[TOUld BUC-

utt," said
iv — I am
111 ways in

said Mrs.
iiu ? " said

nans sur-
i seriously,
rjifcd Ned,
lors in his

" Wait till

fail' illus-
m on the
at woman

Uai'ington.

placid as
Anne ad-
small, I'O-

roii ? "
"Well, it
low's life."

WHKN Ahh THE WOODS AKE GUEEN

210

" ( Vrtainly," laughed Anne. " She does n't pet her
moods," and she concluded that there was soiiu'thing
in the ruddy gentleman, who h)ok<'d so pleased at
what he had said

" I have known her under many cinMimstanees," said
Mrs. Lyndsay, *' and I doubt if she has any moods."

" I rather suspect," said Lyndsay, *' that Mi*s. May-
brook's (Miuality of temper is partly natural, and
partly a singuhirly intelligent a<'([uired (capacity to
nmke the best of her surroundings."

" Enviroriment," said Ned, under his breath, and
now satisfli^l.

" Really, Rose knows more about lier than even my
wife, who has known her longer; but Rose has a
curious way of getting at people, and I have seldom
seen Rose so carried away by any one."

** I envy j)eople the power of understanding people
on short acquaintance. I like everybody at first,
and tlu^n, by and by, I have to change my mind.
Now, Carington — "

" Nonsense ! " (*ried his friend.

" Indeed ! " exclaimed Anne. She thought Mr. Elh^tt
oddly frank.

*' From all I can hear," said Carington, *' Mrs. May-
brook must bo a kind of female Marcus Aurelius."
This was quite too much for the boys, who began to
laugh ; and then, as Lyndsay and his wife followed
their example, Miss Anne felt ol)liged to explain, in
her amusing way, why this remark had so unaccount-
ably disturbed the nerves of the household. Lynd-
say defended himself with seriousness. As they rose
to have their cigars outside, Ned said :

h!'

■■ I

' I i

' i:

f '

210

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

"Wo uro }2:()inj]f iij) to tlio bcjich, fjithcr. Rose lost
a pill there. Muy wo take lunch, iiuuna ? There is
l)leiity of brass kiioekiu' from breakfast."

" Pardon me," said Cariiigton, " my dear fellow ;
but what on earth is 'brass kiux^ker'?"

Lyndsay laujylied. " That is a family bit of my
S(M)teh (Hbieation. Tlu^ lowland Seotehman calls the
relies of a meal the 'brass knoeker,' beitause oihh', I sup-
pose, the poor relations, who came to j?et t\w remains
of a f(>ast, were expected to knock, and not to riiijjf."

" How curious. Yes, thank you, I will smoke.
Mrs. Lyndsay ? "

'' Oh, my women are anj^elic about that ! "

'' Indeed, if wo were fallen angels," said Anm^, " we
could hardly bo more used to it." Then she said, ** I
hope wo may see you and Mr. Ellett often. I must
go and tell Rose what a pleasant chat we haye had."

As she turned, she swayed a little, so as to touch
Mr. Carington. 'Pardon me," she said, "I am m)t
oyer-strong, and it now and then makes me awk-
ward." She was really in extreme pain. " Good-by."

lie stepped aside to let her pass, stru(;k, as she
moyed away, with her pallor. It was a sign of un-
usual liking in this woman when she permitted her-
self the least allusion to her own feebleness.

Carington Avas in the gayest .)f moods as tlieii'
eanoe went up the riyer.

"Ho h-^s yery good cigars," remarked Ellett.

" Admirable I And the air up here, I have noticed,
keeps them in first-rate condition. Cigars are a good
deal like people, Oliver — they are unaccountably
changeable. Ever notice that?"

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN 217

" Yos; Imi, a pip(^ is an uuchau{,'iiij? friend. Cigars
are like woineii. Tliat 's a good idea ! "

" Botlier your id(ias! What interesting people! It
seemed to nie a wholesome atmosphere — strong and
true and honeist. Master Jack did not appear. I
suppose he was in disgrace."

"Very likely."

" That boy N<'d is a ({uaint little fellow."

" We only wanted the sister and that scamp to
make up the (jutire family."

"I am not so sure al)out the scamp — the black
sheep ; I fancy he is hiirdly more than brown. I was
ratlu^r hard on him ; but I was angry enough to have
thrashed him, and yet I <'()uld n't help liking his
pluck."

"It was rather out <>f i>lace, Fred."

" Yes. To know when to fear, and what to fear, is
wisdom."

" I think you have it to-day, Fred. You are afraid
of that girl."

" Upon my word, you do have at times the most re-
markable flashes of intelligence. You are right."

" But why ? The awkwardness of the affair seems
to me to lie on the lady's side."

" I wish it were not. She is young, and — well,
rather pretty, and of course she will be effusive, and
(iuthuse, and then there will be a few tears, and I shall
feel like a fool ! "

" It 's a great thing, Fred, to have no imagination.
Now, it would n't trouble me in the least. She will
just say, * I am so much obliged, Mr. Carington,' and
you will say, * Oh, it really does n't matter, Miss Lynd-

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218

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GxCEEN

say.' People don't go spUishing their emotions about
like a wet dog shaking off the water on everybody.
Good notion, that ! "

" You are a social and consolatory Solomon, (xive
me your tobaeeo. I shall go back to-morrow and
have it over. Will you fish the upper pool this
afternoon ? "

" Either."

"Hang your politeness, Oliver. There is nothing
gives as much trouble as ' either.' It ought to be
kicked out of society."

" Then the lower pool."

"Good!"

There was a little interchange of views at the Cliff
Camp as to their guests; a certain pleasantness of
relief at finding Carington one who could confer an
immense obligation and appear totally to ignore it.
Perhaps, of all of them, Anne the best appreciated
this ; for she understood, as did neither her brother
nor his simple and direct wife, that Rose felt and
must deeply feel a sense of indebtedness, and the
difficulty of at once putting herself into the right
relations with the man who had, without peril to him-
self, left on her a debt which could never be canceled.
It was easy to say about it to Rose too much or too
little; but, with her usual clearness of head as to
matters of conduct. Miss Lyndsay now held her
tongue, nor d^d Rose tempt her to speak further.

As to Jack, he v.ime out of his room at one, adding
an hour out of pure dislike to having any one think
he cared. Anne spoke to him, as he passed her, a
mere " How are you. Jack I " but he merely answered,

r !

lEN

ions about
everybody.

ion. (rive

t)iTow and

pool this

is nothing
ght to be

It the Cliff
mtness of

confer an

ignore it.
ppreciated
er brother
e felt and
5, and the

the right
ril to him-
! canceled,
iich or too
lead as to

held her
k further,
ae, adding
one think
sed her, a
answered,

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 219

"Good morning, Aunt Anne," and went at once to
the barrel in which he had left his cub. It was
gone; but whither he never knew. Then he came
in to get his rifle, a gift from Anne on his last and
fifteenth birthday. That, too, was gone. Upon this
he got a crust of bread, and betook himself to the
woods, where the black flies were more active than
his conscience. At last he climbed a high dead pine,
and sat in tlie wind, and saw, far away on tlie river^
his father's canoe. He felt that he had been ill-used^
and then, remembering Rose on the beac^i, with the
blood about her, had an hour or so of a boy's un-
happiness. Toward evening he found a woodchuek's
burrow, which he resolved to dig out; and, some-
what comforted, at last wandered back to the cabin,
all other emotions having given Avay before the over-
whelming hunger to which, in his wrath, he had need-
lessly condemned liimself.

lit*

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CHAPTER XVI

HE fislnnjij had been fortunate in the
Cliff Camp waters, and now, some-
what later than usual, dinner being
over, the whole family, save Anne,
was collected in the large ccaitral
room of the cabin. The firephuie
was of a size to hold logs five feet in length, and was
built of rough, unhewn, gray rock. As the evening
was cold, a great pile of birch-wood filled the wide
chimney-throat with ruddy flame, and the lamp
which hung overhead and the candles on the table
were scarcely needed to light the room, llvve and
there were books. In the corner stood a rod or two
iu their cases ; on the racks a rifle and shot-gun.

Lyndsay was busy with his salmon-flies and was
carefully inspecting the multitude of feathered lures
which every one collects and no one uses. On a
cushion, upon the floor, sat Rose, in the ripest gh)w
of the red birch flame. She was all in virginal white,
and with this innocence of color the fire was playing
pretty tricks, flushing the white sweep of the skirt
with rose, or playing hide-and-seek with flitting shad-
ows, as they hid among the folds, and were chased
hither and thither when the long jets of flame spurted
out at the ends of the logs.

220

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

221

Jiuik being still in sonio disgnieo, our Rose must
have liis head in her hip, the lad's sturdy fi|^iu'(^
stretched out on the floor. Beside him, Ned sat
cross-legged, like a Turk, and stared into the fli-e.
Dick, at a side-table, with a candle to himself, was
far away in another world, watching a wild mena-
gerie of rotifers spinning around on the field of his
microscope.

They were quiet, all of them, in the (company of
their thoughts. At the table, Mrs. Lyndsay was deep
in " Belinda." She dearly loved those pleasant books,
still worth the reading, and often gay with very de-
lightful chat. Now and then she read a bit aloud to
her husband. She cared little for the great books,
and liked best the level lowlands of literature.
When Anne was lost in ])ook-land, and it took two
or three questions to call her ba(;k to consciousness
of her kind, Margaret found it impossible to compre-
hend her absorption. Anne had once said to her,
" There are books which carry one away to the moun-
tain-peaks, and will not let one go without a ransom."
Then Margaret had smiled, and replied, with the
nearest approach to sarcasm of which she was capa-
ble, that it was well there were some people left
down below to order the dinners and see to the ser-
vants.

In the cool air without, and well wrapped up,
Anne Lyndsay swung gently in her hammock be-
neath the porch. It was well understood among
these people, who so deeply loved her, that at times
she liked to be alone, and then was to be left to her-
self. She had struggled for tliis freedom from kindly

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222

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

I I

intrusion, and years ago liad won it, but not without
some contest with Margaret, who was (juite unable to
see why any one could want to be solitary. Anne
would say, '' I am never alone, my dear," and was of
opinion that the hardest thing to get in a large fam-
ily were these sacred hours of privacy. Too many
women know that.

She was just now absolutely free from pain, and in
unrestrained enjoyment of the cool, dry air of the
Canadian river, which ran below, and sent up at un-
accountable intervals strange noises as she listened.
Now it was a low, booming, bass note, and now min-
gled sounds, as of cries, and distant chuckle of sup-
pressed mirth, where, above and below, the voyaging
waters hopped merrily over their rocky path to the
sea. The moon was high overhead, and lit up the wa-
ter with life of light, when here and there the checked
current rose in snowy foam over some huge boulder,
dropped ages since on the mighty portage of the ice-
swept continent. Nor cry nor insect-note came from
the somber masses of the hills. After awhile she
turned her head, and looked in through the window
at the good people who were so near to her heart.
Then she called, "Jack! Jack!"

The boy got up and went out to her.

" Sit down on that stool beside me," she said. He
obeyed in silence.

"How is the cub, Jacky Giant-Killer ? "

" He is gone ! "

"Indeed! I am sorry for that. I wanted to see
it. Did it get away?"

" No. I suppose father gave it to Tom, or some-

I t

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

223

or some-

body. I don't care. It was my cub. I don't care,"
he repeated.

"Jacky, if Goliath had lied in proportion to his
size, he could not have lied larger than that. Now,
is n't that so ? "

" Oh, I don't care, and I do." Then he broke out
angrily, " The thing is, Aunt Anne, nobody asked me
a question ; nobody wanted to give me a chance ; and
that long-legged fellow that shot the bear, he said —
I wish he was my size ! — he called me an idiot."

"The description was brief and correct. What
brains you have — and they are good enough — you
did not use. Three people called to you to drop the
cub. Why did n't you ? You see what mischief came
of it ; and how much worse it miglit have been I do
not like to think. Why did you hold on to the cub ?"

"I just could n't let it go, Aunt Anne. You 're
awful good to a fellow. There is no one like you."
And here she captured his hand.

"Why could n't you? It was only to do that."
And she let his hand drop, and caught it again.

" It would have been cowardlv."

"Of course — I knew it ; I knew what you thought ;
but I wanted you to say it out."

" Nobody else has asked me. I did n't think that
bear would go after anybody but nu^ and the cul), and
I just held on."

"I see. It explains what you felt; it does not
excuse what you did. This is not quite all of it."

He was silent.

" You were afraid some one would think you were
afraid. Was n't that a sort of cowardice, Jack ? "

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224

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

He was clear of head now, and this arrow went to
the mark.

" Yes," he said ; " I 'd hate to think I was afraiJ."

" What is conrage f "

" Oh, not to be afraid ; never to be afraid."

*^ Is that all f Is n't there a nobler courage that
goes hand in hand with reason and love and unselfisli-
ness ? A man ought to fear when there is reason to
fear — to feai* evil, or hurt of others, or dishonor, or
sin. You have unreasoning courage. How are you
better than a bulldog? I remember once, at your
father's table, that I asked a gi'eat and wise general
as to another, who was famous for mere heedless
bravery, what he thought of him. ' Oh,' he said, ' he
was a great thunderbolt of war, to be thrown by a
hand not his own.' The man who spoke was brave as
are God's bravest, Jack ; but he had always his wits
about him, and kncAV when to go on aiul when to fyU
back. Is n't that the finer courage ? "

"I guess so," said the boy. And then, abruptly,
"Are you ever afraid, Aunt Anne!"

" No." And it was true.

'* But if you were in a battle, or were going to die f "

" I am ! "

"Oh, but soon f"

"I am! Look here, Jacky, my dear Jacky. I
never talk of myself ; but I will this once, for you.
I am a very ill woman ; in a year or two I shall die.
It is certain. I am to leave this world and those I
love. I suffer pain all the time. No one knows how
much."

"Oh, Aunt Anne!"

REEN

iTow went to

was afraiil."

aid."

courage that
ind iinselfish-
3 is reason to

dishonor, or
How are you
3nce, at your

wise general
nere heedless
,' he said, ' he

thrown by a
s was brave as
ways his wits
i when to fyU

len, abruptly,
^oing to dieT'

ar Jacky. I
)nce, for you.
TO I shall die.
and those I
le knows how

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

225

" Yes. Now I am not afraid to die. I am not even
afraid of this pain, whicdi goes on from l)ud to worse.
If some angel came and said, 'You are free to die
to-morrow,' I would say * No.' Life is my little bear-
eub, and it is n't like your cub. I should be afraid
to be su(;li a coward as, for fear of pain, to want to
let go my cub ; and that is because God has put me
liere to bear what ills come to me, and to use them
so as to get something out of life — to learn endur-
ance and true courage. Perhaps some one else may
get something out of it. I do not want to talk over
your head. Jack. Do you understand me ? "

" I think so,'' and tears began to fall on her hand.
" I am — I am so sorry for you."

" That is well, — although I am foolish as to pity,
and like best to keep my troubles to myself. But if
to know all this helps you to do right, to know what
the courage which comes from God means, I shall
not have suffered in vain."

" Thank you ! " He began to comprehend her cour-
ageous reticence, and was appalled at this insight into
the anguish and struggle of this calm, self-contained
life, which went laughing on its way to death.

" Kiss me," she said, " and mind this is between us
two. I try usually not to pain others with my pain.
Except to help you, I would not have made you suf-
fer for my suffering. No one knows why there is so
much torment in the wide world of man and beast,
but some of it is clear enough, I have made youi'
young heart ache to-night; but this suffering has a
meaning, and ought to have a use."

" Thank you, dear Aunt Anne ! "

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WHEN AJ.L THE WOODS AKE GKEEN

" Don't cry any moiv," nIic said. ** T sliall love
you l)('tt(T tlian ever Ix'canso wo have trusted each
otlicr. Now I think yon know what to do. Don't
wait," and slu^ hmj^lu'd pleasantly; "procrastination
is the thief — of what, .Tacky?''

'' Oh, of tinu'." And he lauj]flu'd.

'• No, no, stupid ! — of all the virtues. Y(>nr father
is in the room. Kiss me."

The boy rose up and went straifj^ht into the cabin.
With his head in air, and a little flnshed, he walked
up to his father, and stood as the latter looked up
from his book.

" I am sorry, sii', for what I did yesterday. I was
Avrong."

Lyndsay put out his hand, and the mother also
looked up from her book.

'' That will do," he said. '' I thought you would
come right. Go and kiss Rose."

!!(> did so, whispering in her ear, "I am awful
sorry. Rose." Then, in the brief silence that fol-
lowed, he walked out again, and went back to Anne.

" It was n't hard ? " she said.

" Yes, it was ! I hated it, but I did it."

" Now, that was honest courage. Jack. You will
feel better for it to-morrow. Good night ; I must go
to bed myself."

Jack went in with her, and by the way in which he
was bidden good night, saw that the bear business
was over. Before he fell asleep, he heard Rose ask :

" May I come in ? "

" Yes," he shouted. She came to the bedside and
kissed him.

Your fjithor

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AUE GKEEN L'27

'' T wanted to say, Jack, that I tliouglit you were
very brave to-night. I wouhl hav(^ (h»ue it, ])ut I
would liave waited until dear old Marc. Aurelius was
alone. Oh, I am proud of you. You are to have your
rifle tomorrow."

''You asked for it?"
*' I did."

*' By Thoi\ but you 're — "
This was a family oath.
" Hush, no swearing."
'H)h, by Jove!"

" These are not the Olympic games."
'' Plague it, Aunt Anne says that is n't swearinii-
She says—" ^'

" Y^)u and Aunt Anne had better be careful how
you explain away the comnuindnujuts. Good night."

A poet has said that Time is a mighty peacemaker,
nnd it is quite certain that he patches up even our
(luarrels with ourselves. This Rose found to be the
(Mise. The lapse of a day left her less self-annoyance.
That certain preced«nit facts about her bowman cast a
humorous aspect about the new acquaintance began
to be felt rather as a relieving aid to future social
intercourse than as an added embarrassment.

" ! )i"

)edside and

,.)):(!

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(^IIAPTEli XVIT

\IV] lu'xt (lay went by before Rose
was believed to be well eiioii^:h to
east a Hy. Mr. Ellett dropped down
to ask how Miss Lyndsay was, and to
leave a note from Carinjjton, with ji
half-dozen of the f anions Millers.
Aunt Anne smiled a little as she eanjjht ^ Kllett
on his way to the house, no one else but ein^'

at home. Slu^ nuu\v herself very amusiufjf, and, as
Ellett was enthusiastie about Cariujjrton, she bajjjjfed,
as she said, all there was to be known of both yonii};:
men.

" You see, Miss Lyndsay, I am unlucky enouj^^h to
have more nu)ney and more time than Cariufj^ton says
is good for me. But everybody has the sanu^ time as
everybody else. That 's so, is n't it ? I saw it in — I
think I saw it in Smith's ' Wealth of Nations.' Ever
read it, Miss Lyudsay ? "

" Yes," said Anne, charmed with her capture.
^' I don't have much tinu^ now. I go in for manag-
ing hospitals and things. You see, Fred says a man
who can run a club can manage a hospital, (^ood
notion, that. He says men are better housekeepers
than women."
" What heresy ! "

228

WHEN Alili TIIK WOODS AUK (JUKKN

'J20

" Is n't il ? Nowjuliiys Frrd Ims more nioiicy tliiiii
I luivc. You K('«', \\v builds Itridj^cs nnd tliiu;j;s."

"Tlicn you uiid your friend Mr. Ciiriii^loii luivo
littlo ill (MMUUMMi, from yoiir uccount."

"Oh, yi'S, we liiive; wo. like ciicli other."

"Tliut 's neatly and nicely said; htit don't you
think tluit, on the whoh', in peoph* who an; intelh'e-
tinilly sympathittie, uidikeness of tastes nnd pursuits
may 1h^ as jj;ood a fcnnuhition for friendship as a
(M>mmon fondness for this «»r tliat ? "

"Y-e-s," said the snudl j^enth'uuin, somewhat. i»er-
])h'xed. lie was sh)W of api)rehension, l)ut in tlu5
end likely enoufj^h to heeoine clear as to what lu!
should think of thinjifs .said. Miss Aniu', on the
otluT hand, was a rapid talker and thinker, and
sometimes overestinuited the (rapacity of pe(>ple to
follow her.

" We were speaking of this last week. I said then
that as little reason jj:oes into the making of most
friendships as into most love-atfairs, or, foi* that mat-
ter, into most of the reli^i<ms attachments which men
call their heliefs. Friendship onjyht to he a trancpiil
love-aflPair of the head, without base question of dot,"
and she lauf^hed.

" But I like a fellow first, and then find reasons for
it afterward."

" I said it was a love-atfair of the head. I have a
small heart somewhere in my head ; I know that.
Some folks have two heads, and call one a heart."

" I don't think I qnite follow yon. Miss Lyndsay,"
said EUett.

" Oh, there 's no need to."

15*

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230

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AEE GREEN

" But it 's di eadfiil to get left the way I do, at the
first hiirdle. I was going to tell you what Fred said
to me once ; it was n't bad at all. He said once that
ours was a friendship of convenance at first, and then,
afterward — Well, the fact was, I happened to hear
that he needed money, and I used to admire him, but
I never did think he would care for a fellow like me,
that shot pigeons, and rode steeplechase, and — killed
things."

''And you helped him ? "

" Good heavens, Miss Lyndsay ! I never meant to
— to say anything about that. I — "

" You need not apologize." she said, smiling. " 1
am getting to be a pretty old maid, and that gives me
privileges. I think I like Mr. Carington's f i i^^nd " ;
and she said to herself, ''You are a dear, shrewdly
simple little man."

Then he thanked her, blushing as he rose^ and
saying :

" Now, I must go and get a fish."

As for Rose, she began to feel that it wasi rather
nice of Mr. Carington to be in no haste to come after
the inevitable gratitude ; but when a pleasant note
came to Mrs. Lyndsay inclosing the flies, she began
also to have a certain amount of curiosity as to the
man in question, much, I suppose, like the beginning
of that same fatal emotion which in the end causes
the salmon to inspect at closer quarters the provo-
cative Jock Scott or Durham ranger.

It was now near the end of their second week, and
the after part of the third day from that which saw
the drama of the bear and cub. Rose had killed two

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

231

salmon in the morning, and, not having altogether
gotten over the loss of blood, had declined to fish
again in the afternoon. Anne was in her room, the
mother out in the boat with Mr. Lyndsay, and the
boys off to dig up the unhappy woodchuck. Rose
liad the pleasant feeling of having the house to her-
self. She took a volume of Lowell, and, settling
herself in the hammock, was soon so deep in the
delicate analysis of Gray that she did not observe
the coming canoe, until of a sudden Carington was
beside her.

" Good evening. Miss Lyndsay."

Rose made the usual awkward effort to rise from
her comfortable nest, saying, " I am like the starling,
I can't get out."

"Permit me" he said, and, with the help of his
hand, she Wc on her feet.

"Upon my word," she laughed, "you seem to be
essential to the getting me out of scrapes. I am, I
was, always shall be hopelessly in your debt," and
sh'j blushed prettily, feeling that she had been less
formal than she had meant to be. " Pray sit down,"
she added, taking a camp-stool.

"Thanks. Don't you think that to give a man
such a chance to oblige people like — like jour father
and mother — rather puts the sense of obligation on
the other side *? "

"Aunt Anne says that it is written large on some
debts, 'Not transferable.' You have put it very
nicely, and still you must let me say once for all, I
thank you."

"And I am forgiven for my boy frolic ■? "

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232 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" I don't know," she cried, smiling. " That is not
nominated in the bond."

"Well, we will consider the other obligations set-
tled," he said, " and leave this for future adjustment.
You will give me what the men call a good ' recom-
mend ' for a new place as bowman ? I am rather
vain of my poling. How wet you were ! "

" Wet ! You have no idea. It established new
standards of moisture for me. But we got the fish."

He liked the pronoun of partnership.

" Yes. I wonder if Mr. Lyndsay would let you fish
our water. I could promise you a salmon or two.
Ellett would like to exchange to-morrow afternoon,
and try your lower pool, so that, if Mr. Lyndsay
would take the lower half of our fishing and we the
upper, we should be agi'ceably matronized — patron-
ized I should say. Will you be so good as to give
your father this note?"

Rose said yes, and he took up the book she had
dropped into the hammock.

"Lowell! I like his essays more than his verse,
except always the immortal fun of the Biglow Papers.
That must surely live. For most of his poetry I care
little."

" Yes, it IS graceful, interesting at times, which is
not true of some much greater verse ; but I do not
care for it much, — and that is dreadful, because we
all know him well and love him well."

" Indeed ! How pleasant that must be ! Long as
I have lived near him, I have never seen him."

" We shall quarrel here and now if you do not at
once praise the Biglow Papers."

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

tt is not

ons set-
istment.
' recom-
1 rather

Led new
he fish."

you fish
or two.
ternoon,
Lyndsay
i we the
- patron-
to give

slie had

s verse,

?*apers.

y I care

vhich is
do not
lause we

jong as

not at

233

Af-

• i1

" Oh ! but I could not say too much of them,
ter their kind they stand alone."

" Thank you ! And how rare it is that the poets
combine humor with the higher qualities ! It is sadly
true of our day."

" Yes, yes ! It is laughable to hear people talk of
Browning's humor. At times he is gi'otesque or sar-
donic — never delicately humorous or funny. We
want a word in between fun and humor. And Ten-
nyson is not humorous. It all seems a part of the
gloom which has fallen on English letters."

" Oh, there is '■ Plump head- waiter at the Cock ' ! "

" That is the exception, and is not very notable, like
Lowell's sustained and delightful verbal play ; the rest
are no better or worse off — the lesser larks, I mean."

*' Yes, and Shelley has no huirior. and Keats's at-
tempts are only illustrations of the fact that editors
don't know where to draw the line."

" How agreeable we are ! " he said, laughing. He
had the happy art of low-pitched laughter.

" That way of saying we agree," she said, " would
delight Aunt Anne."

"And do you find time up here to read muclif "
he went on. " I cannot. The hours go by like the
water, without freight of thought."

"Not macli," she returned. "I read very little here,
although at home we are mighty consumers of books.
I am as little fond of the needle as is my aunt, but
one takes up a book lazily here as a sort of companion
that does not insist on answers."

" You seem to have provided a goodly ration," he
returned, looking aboui him.

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234

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

"I am hardly responsible for this mob of books.
My good mother is in despair over our accumulations,
and my father declares that the house at home is a
Noah's ark of books after their kind."

"And what kind?" said Carington, much pleased
to get off so easily from what he had feared might be
an importunate debtor.

"Oh, every kind! Of course, my good father's
legal books now and then drift away from their
proper place. Then Jack collects voyages and fero-
cities by land and sea, and Dick will spend his last
dime on books about beasts and plants. My dear
Ned reads everybody's books with entire impartial 'ty.
Aunt Anne must have digested lil)raries; but then
she is not like anybody else. I hardly call it reading.
She falls upon a book, and appears to look it over
carelessly, and then, after you have read it with atten-
tion, you find that she knows twice as much about it
as you do."

" But that is very interesting. I judged from our
little chat at breakfast that Miss Anne was out of the
ranks of our commonplace Avorld. And she reads
widely ? "

"Yes! We call her the 'book-hawk.' It is rare
fun to see her pounce on a tempting volume."

" She struck me, if I may venture to say so, as most
interesting; but that there should remain this im-
mense, ever active energy of appropriation with
feeble health seems remarkable."

A little surprised. Rose asked, " Why do you think
her ill?"

" She told me so, — or hardly that : she was merely

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 235

: books,
ihitions,
me is a

pleased
night be

father's
m their
nd fero-
his last
My dear
u'tial'ty.
)\\t then
reading.
: it over
til atten-
aboiit it

roin our
it of the
e reads

is rare
lie."

as most
:his im-
m with

iu think

merely

led to say she was not strong, and a glance at that
pale drawn face, Miss Lyndsay, would — pardon me
— I—"

" No. Pei'haps I should explain my surprise. It
was because to hear of Aunt Anne as confessing
weakness was to me more strange than you can ima-
gine, unless you knew her as we do."

" I liked it," said Carington.

"Yes. It means that she — well — it means that
she is going to like you — a signal."

" Thank you ; that is very pleasant. But, talking
of books again, you left off just where I hoped you
were going to tell me what books after your kind go
into the family ark."

"I was going to do nothing of the sort," cried
Rose, with a laugh. " You will think we are a dull
set of mere book-grubbers. I can assure you we are
very foolish people, and can be as silly as the silliest."

" You shall have credit for any possible margin of
follv."

"Oh, there must be a limit. I did not want to
leave you to think we are what Aunt Anne calls book
proud."

"Book proud?"

" Yes. You must have known people who seem at
some time to have suddenly discovered books, the real
books, and are vastly set up by their new- found wealth."

"I know. I was stupid. My friend Ellett came
pretty near to having a grave case of the malady
soon after I first knew him, but he was cured easily
with the tenth dilution of a sarcasm."

" Were you the doctor ? "

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i:.!:^i
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*■ ■ V

1*!

236

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" I was. I hope you liked him, Miss Lyndsay. I
like my friend to be liked by — by every one."

" You m .ant to say, by your friends," she returned,
with pretty frankness. "You have committed the
folly of making a large addition to your list."

" And I may include Miss Rose Lyndsay ? " he said,
as he stood up.

" That goes without saying."

" But I want it with the saying."

" Then you have it," and she gave her hand for good-
by, and he went away. At the cliff edge he paused.

" I shall be dreadfully disappointed if we do not
get the fishing."

" But I think we shall."

"Then good-by again." In a moment he was in
his canoe, for he had come alone, and was sturdily
poling up the stream. The well-knit figure in ihe
becoming guise of jacket and knickerbockers held
her eye until it was lost around the river curves.
Then she said aloud :

" That is a very nice man."

The man in the canoe said to himself :

" Please God I shall marry that wonuui."

An hour ago she was Miss Lyndsay and as other
women had been to him. But now — he smiled.

When Miss Lyndsay had made her own little state-
ment, she looked about her shyly of a sudden, as if
fearful lest some one might have overheard her, and,
reassured by the knowledge that she was alone,
added :

" I am not as sorry as I was." The why of this last
decision she did not seek to analyze, but dropped

dsay. I
ne."

eturued,
tted the
list."
he said,

for good-
paused,
e do not

e was in
3 sturdily
re in ihe
kers held
r curves.

as other
iled.

:tle state-
len, as if
[her, and,
IS alone,

this last
dropped

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 237

into the hammock, and, lulled by its motion, by and
by fell asleep.

After awhile came Lyndsay on tip-toe, and, smiling-,
kissed her, and then again before she quite waked up.

"A pair — two pair — of gloves," he cried.

At this she sat up, with a faint blush on her
cheek, fetched from far away out of dreamland. I
do not know of what she was dreaming.

'' You startled me so, Pardy. How wicked you are !
Mr. Carington has been here, and left a note for you."

" And you settled your small obligations — hey.
Rose?"

" I did."

" Difficult?" He had anticipated her embarrassments.

" No. Not even you could have been nicer about it."

*' And you liked him ? We did."

"Yes — oh, yes,'' she said with indifference. "I
thought him pleasant. He talks quite well, and is a
gentleman."

" Rather mild praise for a man who — "

"Don't, please, Pardy; I — I hato to be joked
about it."

" I won't, dear. To say, in these days of too easy
fashions, that a man is a gentleman means, for us at
least, a good deal."

"I think so. Of course, I had to say distinctly
that I thanked him, and he received it so — so quietly
and simply that I was not in the least embarrassed.
I can't tell you, Pardy, how absurdly I dreaded it."

Thereupon Mr. Lyndsay went in, saying to himself:

" I hope the receiver is n't going to be the thief —
confound the business ! "

.•a

1 1 i

llilil

CHAPTER XVIII

HE next day, being Saturday, a
little note sent in the morning told
Carington that Miss Lyndsay and
her father would fish his waters
in the afternoon. Her father took
I Rose up in his own canoe, and at
the Island Camp they found their new friends. Mr.
Ellett went off to take their pool, and Rose was soon
seated in Carington's canoe, facing the stern of the
boat.

" No," he said gaily, " I shall sit between you and
Michelle, here in the bottom. I shall be very com-
fortable, and I shall be able to criticize your casts.
No, I don't mean to fish. It is your day — all yours.
We shall beat you, Mr. Lyndsay. Mind, Michelle, we
are bent on wholesale business."

Then they were off, and in a half-hour were at the
head of the pool, a full cnst from the bank, and in a
wilful rush of broken water. Meanwhile Mr. Lynd-
say dropped down half a mile below them.

"I am afraid you must cast seated," said Carington.
" The boat rocks too much for it to be safe to stand."
" That makes it harder."

" Yes ; but you won't mind my coaching you ? "
" Oh, no ! "

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

230

irday, a
ing told
say and
! waters
ler took
I, and at
ds. Mr.
vas soon
n of the

you and
ery com-
iir casts.
11 yours,
helle, we

•e at the
land in a
jr. Lynd-

jrington.
stand."

" Then, use your arms and wrist in the cast. Don't
try to put too much force in it. There, that is bet-
ter — so."

She went on casting, a little troubled by the critical
watchfulness of the curly head below her, for Caring-
ton had thrown his cap at his feet and sat bare-
headed. At last, in the second drop, a fish rose.

" Did n't you see him ? "

" No."

"He rose. Wait a little. He lies on a line with
that cedar. Now, again. They are in rising mood
to-day. I rose six here this morning, and then left
the pool so as not to exhausc their curiosity."

" That was to leave me the chance," thought Rose.

"There, Miss Lyndsay; he was pretty eager that
time.

"A rise to a Rose seems grammatically improbable,"
he murmured, laughing outright at his own nonsense,
and happy enough to be easily siUy.

" What amuses you ? " she said.

" Oh, nothing."

" Then you are very readily amused."

" I am to-day. Up anchor. He has it. Tip up !
So ! A grilse."

" Oh ! how he jumps," she cried, for he was in and
out of the water a dozen times.

" That is the fashion of his kind, young and foolish.
Hold him hard, and reel him in. He is too small to
trifle with. WeU done ; four minutes, or less."

" That horrid gaflf ! " said Rose.

" Wait a moment. I thought you might not like
it. I have my big net," and so in a moment the

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240

WHKN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

pretty flve-pouuder was in the boat, and had his coup
(le tjrdce.

The next half-hour Rose fished hard, but in vain,
and began to be weary. Then, at last, there was a
huge splash at the utmost limit of her casting dis-
tance.

" Two fish was after that fly," said Michelle. " Guess
they run against each other."

" Let out a little line," said Carington.

" But I can't cast that far. Won't you, please?"

"Certainly." And, standing, he threw off two or
three feet of line. The leader and fly dropped fa^'
away, straight from the rod. At last, after many
casts, he put on a fly well known to anglers as a
" fairy." The fish rose, missed it, and then, follow-
ing the retreating line, struck savagely.

" Up anchor ! " cried Carington, as he sat down,
giving the rod to Rose.

" Big one that, sir," said Michelle ; and, as he spoke,
the salmon darted down-stream, the men in wild ex-
citement, and the canoe swiftly urged in his track.

" The salmon seem fond of going to sea, Michelle.
It is very rare. Miss Lyndsay."

" Oh, he will have all my line ! What can I do ? "

" Tip up ! up ! He must run, and he will." And
away they flew.

" Quick, Michelle ! I have twice seen a salmon run
off a reel." And now, in fact, there was very little
line left, when, after nearly half a mile of rush down-
stream, the fish turned and ran toward the boat.

" Lost ? No ! Nothing is ever lost — reel ! reel ! —
except by people who ought to lose. No, reel ! reel ! "

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AliE GREEN 241

18 COUj)

a. vain,

was a

11 g dis-

" Guess

,se?"

two or
ped fa^'
V many
rs as a

f oUow-

b down,

e spoke>
wild ex-
s track,
lichelle.

I do?"
" And

ion run
y little

down-
it.
reel ! —

reel ! "

A.nd poor Rose, at the limit of exhaustion, obeyed till
her arm ached, and the perilously long loop of line at
last became tense, and the fish showed himself in one
great leap not forty feet away.

" He 's beat ! " cried Michelle. '' Easy, miss, easy.
Have to gaff him, sir."

" All right. What 's the matter with him ? "

" Hooked foul, sir. xVli ! " And, amidst splash and
laughter, and much water over Rose, the prey was hers.

" What does he weigh ? "

Carington took the spring-scale. "How is it,
Michelle?"

" Thirty-eight pounds, miss, and a beauty. A half-
hour we was, I guess."

" I congratulate you. Are you tired ? "

" Tired ? No, I am exhausted. I really don't think
I can fish any more. Won't you ? "

'* Suppose we pole up a mile or so, to the upper
pool. I '11 cast a little, and then we can drop down
and meet Mr. Lyndsay."

" Certainly. I, at least, am satisfied."

"Up-stream, Michelle." And the poles were out,
and they went away slowly up the watery slope.

"Do you mind talking at the back of a man's
head?" said Carington. '^I might have shifted the
chair, and my own position — I will, if you like."

" No ; it has its advantages," and she laughed, re-
membering another occasion.

"Such as — "

" I leave that to your imagination."

" I have none."

" Then to your reason."

p.
Hi

I,
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242

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AliE GKEEN

" Gone ! Retired from business."

" I found it advantageous — once."

" You mean when I was bowman. I thought I was
to be forgiven."

" I distinctly said you were not, and that I should
reserve the matter for future consideration."

" But the advantage was all on my side."

" Thank you. I suppose because you could not see
my face."

" That is r<iraply a dia''jolical explanation. I hope
you may lose your next fish."

" Don't. I can bear any form of malico but that. I
have gone sa»mon-mad, like the rest of you."

" I retract," he said. " Is n't this hunting and fish-
ing instinct curious? T suppose it got ingrained
ages ago, in the days when our forebears we re getting
their daily diet by the use of the club and spear. If
yoA couid shoot, would yon like that?"

He did ot want hei* tr scv yes, and she did say,
'' No ; I set my sporting limits at the salmon."

'* That is to say, pretty well up the scale. I confess
that for me salmon-fishing is the noblest of the sports."

" Why is it? For myself, I like it ; I hardly know
why. But I want to hear why you speak of it so
warmly. You shoot, of course ? "

" Yes. All manner of things, when I get the time.
As to this fishing, I don't think I spoke at random.
It requires some skill, — not too much, or too intjuse
attention. One is free to mix it with a book, or with
deep thinkings, or with the laziest mind-idleness.
Then, too, one's curiosity is kept up by the unguess-
a'»le riddles of the ways of salmon. We know no

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE QHEEN

243

more about salmon tlian we know about — well, I
leave you to fill the gap."

" It is easy to guess," she cried, " what the other
term of all difficult comparisons is for men."

"Woman, I humbly presume you to mean. In-
deed, I at least might be excused if I so said. I have
no sister, no cousins, indeed; no mother — now," and
he paused. " I am in truth alone in the world since
after the war, when I wandered north, a pretty sorry
sort of a half-edueated orj)han."

'' And what did you do then ? " She felt agreeably
the courteous deference of the young man's manner,
and liked the brief emotion of his pause as he spoke
of his mother, nor less the soft Southern accent.

"Oh, I got work on a railroad as a chain-bearer,
and worked up until I made a little invention, which
I sold, and with the money I went to the Troy scien-
tific school. It was pretty tough, because I had to
do double work on account of my want of early
training. However, I got through."

"And then?"

" Oh, then I was employed as an engineer, and, by
and by, the firm I am now in took up some of my
new notions about bridge-building. I ought to ask
pardon for talking about myself. I really think it
was your fault."

" I am not over-penitent. I think, with my father,
that the lives of men who succeed are interesting."

" Have I succeeded ? I suppose that fellow Ellett
has been indulging you all with my virtues and ca-
pacities."

"Perhaps!" And now a look at the face would

f, '

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244

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

have been desirable. He said no more for a momeufc.
Then Miss Lynd say went on :

" You were about to say — "

" No, I was not. Yes, I was. I was about to say
that success in life means many things. Material
success I have had. There are other successes. I
have by no means all I want."

"And what else do you want? Immaterial suc-
cess ? I hardlv know what that is : but one can't
be consistently wise."

He laughed. " Oh, I am a fellow full of wants."

" Do you get what you want, as a rule 'i I some-
times envy men the battles of their lives."

"Yes, mostly I get what I want. When I want
things, I so terribly want them .hat not to win
is — is unpleasant."

" Oh ! " she cried, " did you see that salmon jump?
I should like to be a salmon, just an hour, to know
why they want the fly. They don't want it to eat,
do they?"

" No. But also we ourselves want many things
which we can't eat."

She laughed outright, which is at times provoking
when the face is invisible.

" It is my turn now," he said. " What amuses you ? "

" Nothing ! " This was hardly true. She was mirth-
fullj' overcome at the idea of Carington as a salmon,
and somebody casting a fly over that curly head.
"Oh, nothinp-."

" I know better," he said.

" Indeed ? What kind of a fly would you advise as
a lure to a human salmon ? "

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

245

" That is a pretty serious question. It is to be a
male salmon, I presume. What would I rise to?
Money, good looks, character, position."

"I might suggest a killing combination fly," she
returned.

" That reminds me pleasantly of nu old guide, Tom
Dunham, who used to go with me on Lake Superior.
He was an old beaver-trapper. Once I asked him
how he baited his traps. He said, ' Women beavers
is easy satisfied with one thing for a bait, but men
beavers is best took with two or three kinds, all just
sot to one, in a bait.'"

" I don't see the moral."

" Oh, that is a matter of choice. The beaver, once
in the trap, has leisure to select the moral."

" Rather. How interesting these guides must be !
The loneh life in the woods must result in the mak-
ing of some singular characters. Or do they all
become dull and taciturn?" .

" Some do. Tom was a most amusing person. I
remember we were lying one night at the Pictured
Rocks, on the south shore. I can see now the dim
line of cliffs, and the camp-fire, and the loons on the
lake, taken by the brt)ad red band of ruddy light
flashing far over the waters. Tom was talking bea-
ver. At last I told him a beaver story out of one of
Buckland's books. It does n't bore you ? "

" Oh, no, I love stories."

" Well, once on a time, when folks wore beaver
hats, an ancient beaver sat on a dam, and discoursed
wisdom to a young beaver. Presently came floating
down-stream a beaver hat. * What is that ? ' cried the

16*

■1,1;;

24G

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

young beaver. Then the old beaver wiped his eyes
with his long, hairy tail, and said, 'My son, that is
our grandfather!'"

" Delightful I Do tell the boys that."

"Tom considered this incident in silence until at
last I said, 'Tom, I don't suppose you believe that
story ? ' ' Well, now,' says Tom, ' that just shows you
don't know nothiu' about beavers. In course he
knowed his own granddaddy.' "

"That is really charming."

" Oh, here is the pool." Their places were now
shifted, Carington casting over Miss Lyndsay. For
an hour he fished in a distracted way, to Michelle's
disgust, for the fisherman sat for the most part, and
paid less attention to the fly than to the back of Miss
Lyndsay's neck, and a pair of delicately modeled
ears, and the most distracting lot of hair, which had
been disturbed in her casting, and in and out of
which two hands wera busy with mysteriously guided
efforts at readjustment. Also, he wondered how
much of a woman's nature one could learn from
these limited opportunities.

After a good deal of talk, with some dangerous in-
tervals of silence, he gave up fishing, saying, " It is
no use," and ordered the anchor up. It was now
toward evening, and they were off and away to meet
Mr. Lyndsay at the beach.

"Don't paddle," said Carington. "Keep her straight;
that is all."

He was more than willing to lengthen the time of
their too brief voyage. Both seemed inclined to the
lonely satisfaction of silent thought.

' }

H i

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

247

ll'>

As they neared the Island beach, Rose said, " I
have had so delightful an afternoon that I almost
forgot mama's message. I was to ask you to come
down to-morrow — no, Monday — night, after dinner,
and Mr. EUett, of course. We will try to show you
what silly folk we can be. We are guilty of much
folly, I assure you. We will play 'Situations' — we
calf it 'Plots.'"

" What is that ? "

" Oh, you will learn — and charades, I dare say."

" It looks formidable."

" It is — it will be. I have to get even with you
about that bowman business."

" But I am reeking with remorse."

" I don't believe it. By the way, in my moistened
haste, I gave you my luck-piece, my dear little gold
dollar."

"Well."

"I want it back."

"And my pay ? I do not work for nothing."

" You shall have a big silver dollar."

"No, that is worth only eighty-five cents: pure
swindle that ! "

" But I want it."

"I like that."

" I shall never rest till I get it."

" I am so sorry."

" But I really don't care."

" That is a relief to my conscience."

" Oh, Pardy ! I have killed a grilse and a thirty-
eight-pound salmon."

"And I nothing. Mr. Carington must have or-

■J'"

" if

; ■
•I ''

i;ii

ll.r

sii
■y

■\

248

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

dered all the fish up-stream. Migiit I ask for some
water ? "

" Yes. Michelle, get a jug fresh from the spring.
Come to the tents. Alas, Mr. Lyudsay, to-morrow is
Sunday — no fishing."

" No, indeed. How good that water is ! Rose, you
might take that grilse to Mrs. May brook to-morrow."

" I will, unless it is too hot. Good-by, Mr. Caring-
ton. How comfortable you look here I " They were
now in the dinner-tent. "And books i You are worse
than Aunt Anne." And they went away.

Carington watched them from shore as they hailed
Ellett, who went by them with three good fish.

" Now," said Carington, " if it is cool in the morn
ing, I shall go to see Mrs. Maybrook, to pay for the
milk : and if it is warm, I shall go in the afternoon.
I hope the thermometer will be definite."

CHAPTER XIX

N this Saturday evening, while Hose
was relating her day to Aunt Anne,
Joe Colkett sat, meditatively, astride
of his v;ood-saddle.i In the morn-
ing he had seen Dorothy Maybrook,
and had been as cunning as he
knew how to be. He had found Dory engaged in
"p'inting her man," as she said ; he was to saw some
wood, and to kill two chickens for Mrs. Lyndsay's
table. " Now, two p'ints, Hiram, two ! " The pale,
square-shouldered man considered her with dull eyes.
" You said two pairs."

" Oh, you are not p'inted right yet. Don't you kill
more than two chickens. Here," and she set two pins
in his sleeve, " you can look at these."

" There, one pin stands for each chicken," he said.
" Guess I 'm p'inted," and he went away.
" What 's wanting, Joe? " she said. " How 's Susie ? "
" Oh, she 's kind of upsot. She takes on 'bout that
last boy like there was n't a boy on airth."
" There is n't for her."

" There 's no gainsayin' that. She 's alius a-talkin'
about them Lyndsays, and how they sot a stone, a
right handsome stone, up on that there boy of theirn, —
1 The cross-pieces on which wood is laid for sawing.

249

\ ill'

250

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

and she ain't got none. Women 's awful queer, Dory.
I can't buy no tombstone."

"It does n't seem so queer to me. Can't you get
some kind of a thing, just to please the woman?
Why, if it was only of wood, you see, it might help."

"That 's so. I was a sort of thinkin' 'bout that.
Queer how folks thinks 'bout the same things."

" Were you ? Well, you 're a better kind of man
than I took you for, Joe Colkett. Your wife 's about
half off her wits with grieving. If I was you, I
would n't — well, I would n't take her too serious.
People that are troubled the way she is do have
strange notions. I think the devil he 's as like as
not to get a grip on us when we are — "

"What was you a-thinkin'. Dory!" he broke in,
suspiciously.

" I ain't fully minded to tell you, Joe. But Susie 's
a masterful woman, and don't you let her get you into
trouble. If it 's money, my man and me we 've got
a little put by. I 'd a heap rather spend a bit of it
than see you tormented into some wickedness."

" You must think I 'm right bad. Dory. Can't you
talk out?"

" No ; I might, but I won't. Only you remember,
Joe, I did n't say you were bad, but I do say any-
body you care for might p'int you wrong. It 's a
queer thing how easy men can be p'inted."

He was terribly scared, and, seeing that no more
was to be had out of Dory, resolved to profit by her
warning. How she could have guessed anything of
his or his wife's intentions he was at a loss to compre-
hend. But he was timid, and eager to steer clear of

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

251

you

iber,
ally-
's a

trouble. After a few moments of silent consideration,
he spoke :

" It ain't always easy to keep straight. Guess I 'm
p'inted now, like Hiram," and he grinned. *' I don't
drink none n*^ither, not now."

"Stick to that and keep your mouth shut, or it
may be worse for you — and for Susie, too," she added.

" I will. Don't you be afraid."

" And what fetched you, Joe ? "

" I was minded to set a nice clean board over them
boys. I was a-tellin' you that. And I can't read
none nor write. But if you was to write big on a
paper just what a man might want to set on a board
like I was a-talkin' of, guess I could copy it plain
enough."

Dorothy considered. " Can you wait ? It '11 be
quite a time."

" Yes, I kin wait."

She left him, and went into the house, and was
gone a full hour. What the man thought of as he
leaned against the rails, or sat on top, I do not know.
He had the patience of an ant.

When he saw Dorothy again at the door he climbed
down, and, with some excitement in his face, went
toward the cabin.

"It

was n't right

easy, Joe. I was thinking I
might ask Mr. Carington about it. Mr. Lyndsay
he 'd be best; but I gl\t^s I would n't ask him."
" No," said Joe, promptly. He saw why this might
not be well. " I don't want nobody to know, Dory,
'cept you and Susie. It '11 kind of surprise her, and
she '11 like it." Then he added, with some cunning.

"I
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1 ',

; 'i

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

"She hates to have folks goin' there where them
children 's buried."

"I shall never want to," said Dorothy. She still
carried an unpleasant remembrance of the dismal
burial.

''Well, I thought I 'd tell you, Dory."

"Yes, of course." She took the hint as but an-
other evidence of Susie's state of mind and of Joe's
dreads and anxieties, and failed to examine it closely,
not being of a suspicious turn, despite a life which
had given little and taken much. Whoever asked of
Dorothy a favor approached her on the side of her
nature most open to capture.

"You are a good deal more patient than most
men," she said. " Come in ; come in." Joe entered
after her. A Sunday quiet was in the air of the
place. There was no fire, and the sun, as it looked
in, disclosed no want anywhere of neatness and care.
It was not lost on poor Joe as he looked around the
small house. He had been here often, but there are
times when we see and times when we do not. Now,
perhaps because of being on guard, all his senses, and
the inert mind back of them, were more alive than
usual. A book lying open on the spotless table
struck him most ; a snow-white rolling-pin had been
hastily laid on it to keep the place at the moment of
Joe's coming.

He was bent on making himself agreeable to Lis
hostess, who now stood by an open window, well
satisfied with her work, a large sheet of pap^^r in her
hand. She had put on for Sunday a white gown
which had known the summers of Georgia. It was

.,,4.^

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

253

liiS

I her
)wn
Iwas

clean and much mended, but it set off her fair rosi-
ness and dark hair, and made her look larger than
she was.

" Sit down, Joe."

" Guess I will," said Joe. " Top rail of Hiram's
fence is mighty sharp."

He sat down with caution, being heavy. In his
own home the furniture was apt to go to pieces unless
humored by a but gradual abandonment to it of the
full weight of the human frame. Satisfied as to this,
he began to use the weapon of his sex :

"You 're well fixed up here, Dory. There ain't
many women could keep a man's house lookin' like
yourn ! "

" Oh, it 's only just to not let things get ahead of
you, and to keep your man p'inted right."

"Might be the woman mostly," he said. "Some
women p'ints themselves, and some women don't. It
is n't every woman 's got your talents."

" I don't know, Joe. Sometimes I think it is n't
worth while to go on and on this way, and then I let
things go a while just any way they 're a-minded.
That 's burying your talents, Joe ; and then at last 1
can't stand it, and I dig up my little talents, and dust
them well, and say, ' Get up on your legs, and attend
to your business.'" Her parables were never clear
to him.

" We live just like hogs at my house."

" No, you don't," cried Dorothy, laughing. " I hate
to hear a man taking away the characters of respect-
able animals. A hog has always g'ot his nose over
the trough. He wants his feed like everything.

t ^

254

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

' 1

1 i

He '11 work for it all day — and smart I Why, lie '11
be into your truck-patch and out, when he sees you,
before you can turn round. He knows what he
wants, and he goes for it ; and he knows when he 's
stealing as well as you or me. I hate to hear an
animal called pig-headud because he don't mean to be
ordered here or there by a fellow that has n't got half
his will or half his brains. There ! "

" Gosh, Dory, but you 're a funny woman."

" Am I ? There is more than fun in that sermon.
Look here; this might do." And, as he came near
and stood with huge square hands on the table, she
spread out the sheet of papor.

" Can't you read any of it, oe ? "

"Not no word of it, I might know the letters —
the big ones."

He looked at it as a scholar might at some papyrus
in an unknown language. " You might read it," he
said.

Upon this, with a finger on each word, as she went
on, and with his eyes following it with interest, she
read slowly :

"here LIE THE BODIES

SUSAN FAIRLAMB,

PETER FAIRLAMB, AND

ISAIAH FAIRLAMB,

CHILDREN OF SUSAN AND

PETER FAIRLAMB.

" I guess I 'd leave him out," said Joe, straighten-
ing himself.

WHEN AliL THE WOODS AUE GliEEN

255

" But children must have a father.''

"There ain't no need to say it, though, Dory.
Susie she won't like it."

" vVell, it is n't my tombstone," said Dorothy.
" He was n't much use to them when he was alive ;
we '11 leave him out." Untrammeled by the usages of
the world, she put a pen through the statement of
parental relation.

" What about the dates — the days they died, and
their ages?"

" Derned if I know, except about Isaiah. It don't
matter none." He was reflecting that the work before
him might be reasonably lessened.

" It really don't matter," she returned. " But, Joe,
don't you want some verse out of the Bible ? They
most generally do put that."

" It makes a heap of work, and my knife ain't none
too sharp. Make it short, anyways."

Certain grim texts came into Dorothy's mind, but
she set them aside. At last she wrote:

Of such are the kingdom of heaven !

and repeated the phrase aloud.

" That 's as short as you could make it ? " he said.

" Yes. Do you come down to-morrow morning —
no, on Monday. I '11 baste four big sheets together,
and print it all, the size you will want it. Then you
can easily copy the letters. How will that do ? "

" First rate. I 'm awful obliged to you. Dory."

"Can Susan read it?"

" Well, she can manage to spell it out ; and you '11
read it to me a couple of times, so I '11 be able to tell

I II

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

her if sho ain't j^ot the mottiiin' straight. J '11 come,
and don't you let no one know."

" Well, good-by." She made no promise. She had
too clear a sense of the ridiculous to want to let this
thing stand uncriticized. It was for her a novel
venture. Now she saw the man go, and stood herself
a moment in the sun, facing the doorway, and resting
witii both hands on the table. Her own children lay
in nameless graves in the far South, buried in days
when war and want had made record difficult. She
was recalling the live-oak grove wln-re the two small
mounds were crumbling to the common level of earth.
At last she smiled, and said aloud:

*' I guess Christ will know where to find them."

" What was you sayin' 'i " said Hiram, entering.

*' I was only p'inting myself, Hiram."

'* Do you have need to do that, Dory f I M 'a' never
guessed that."

"Oh, pretty oft(Mi." She herself would scarcely
have said "p'inting" in her talk with the Lyndsays,
but that her husband used the word, and she had
come to regard it by habit as having a specific signifi-
cance other than that of its proper, unabbreviated
parent.

Meanwhile Joe Colkett walked homeward, with so
much mind as he possessed at ease. The rest of the
enterprise seemed small compared to the difficulty
over which poor Dorothy had so innocently helped
him.

At times he had been inclined to content himself
with a neat wooden tomb-mark. Being clever enough
with tools, this might easily have been managed ; but

WHKN ALL THE WOODS ARE OKEEN

257

'II come,

She had
DO let this

a novel
[)d herself
id resting
ildren lay
d in days
cult. She
two small
3I of earth.

them."
itering.

'd 'a' never

Id scarcely
Lyndsays,
d she had
ific siguifl-
.bbreviated

now, the hard, half-distraught woman, whose worn
middle ag(» still had his love, for whom he woidd
have dan^d all liis nature let him dare, was ever at
his elbow with hints as to the possibility of crime.
He had, however, no natural tendency to gi*ave
wrong-doing, and it seemed to him that if he conhl
propitiate this relentless temptress by gratifying lier
lesser desire, she might be content and ((ease to nrge
him into worse ways. He was distinctly afraid of liis
wife, and, once or twice, of himself, when she had set
before him what they conld do with money, and how
pleasant it might be to get drunk when he liked.

At least now she should liave her more innocent
wish satisfied. Nor was it strange that he gave no
thought to the people; ho was about to plunder. He
had lived too much of late in the black shade of the
possi])ilitios of larger crime to bo troubled by the
smaller sin he was so eager to commit. Nor conld he
supply to the minds of those he meant to rob more
motives than his own imagination supplied, and it
taught him notbing in t',* way of sentiment con-
cerning these records vi tin dead.

|rd, with so

rest of the

le difficulty

ntly helped

lent himself
pver enough
Inagcd ; but

CHAPTER XX

I if!

p»g?r^^« « .«l IQE went home, and, as he approached,

J I saw the woman, his wife, at the
I wood-pile. One foot was on a log,
and, as she struck, she swung the
ax with the ease of habit and of
strength. Joe stood a moment think-

ing what a fine, big creature it was. He admired the
physical power and the dexterity of this gaunt being,
to whom unkindly time had left none of the fair
curves of her sex.

Once he had humbly wondered why the tall and
still handsome Susan had given herself to him ; but
for years he had too well known her motives, and
slowly, by degrees, there had been revealed to his
simplicity the true nature of the wife he had taken.
It did not destroy, it scarcely lessened, his attachment.
The poor fellow had by birthright a great fortune in
capacity to love. No one had cared for him, and
when he found this single love of a sad life, it was
not in his construction to be capable of change.

"Halloa, Susie! Why, I '11 do that I" he cried
cheerfully.

She stopped short, and, turning, faced him. " You
ain't man enough even to cut wood for a woman."
And again she struck to right and left with masculine

258

I,,',l

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

259

vigor. " Get out, or I '11 let you have it," she said,
whirling the ax around her head as he fell back.
And still the vigor and force of the woman pleased
him, despite the sense that he was being ill used.

" But I 've been doiu' somethin' for you that '11
please you a heap."

She ceased to chop as he spoke, and, standing, faced
him.

" You can't fool me. You 've been after drink. I
know you. Get in and make the bed, it ain't been
made all day; and there 's a pair of socks needs
darning." She laughed. "Pretty dear, he is!"

The sarcasm was thrown away. He stared at her
a moment in dull wonder, and went in, and tossed
up the pillows, and turned the corn-husk mattress,
and propped a broken chair against the wall, and did
his best to make it all look like the neat order in
Dorothy's cabin. Next he took a half-loaf of stale
bread, and went out the back door and into the
woods.

It was now dusk. Avoiding the road, he strode
with a woodman's skill through the deeper forest,
over a hill-top, and thus down to the river, and so
at last found himself above the clearings. Here he
came upon the dugout he had hidden in the alders
two days before. He got in a nd poled up-stream in
the darkness, passing the burnt lands, and coming at
length to a deserted flat. It had once been a good
pasture, but some change had taken place in the
channel, and now in the spring the waters always
went over it. Where coarse undergrowth had sprung
up, the ice of the April floods had torn long lanes

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

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of ravage. Tlie dead or Imlf-dead bushes were bent
southward, and weighted with a ragged tangle of
leaves and twigs caught in the angular branchings
of the stems : a desolate place, and wild enough in
the uncertain evening light.

Beyond the ruined cabin, which the changes of the
river curves had made untenable, he crossed the in-
land road. He might easily have come by it, but
had wisely avoided even this small chance of being
seen. On the farther side was an oblong, white frame-
building, the Methodist chapel. Once in a month it
was used in its turn for service by the lean minister.
It was likely that no one would be near it for two
weeks, and, in fact, here the road ended.

Joe got over into the graveyard and looked about
him. There were three or four heavy slabs of gray
stone, and a dozen or two of unmarked graves, over
which he stumbled with a curse. He looked around
and listened. Only the hoarse roar of the rapids
reached his ear, and he saw the moon just over the
tree-tops. The light aiding him, he came at last on
the simple, white, upright slab set over the child's
grave. He seized it, with no hesitation, and began
to rock it sideways, to and fro. At last it was loos-
ened, and, with no more thought than he would have
given the felling of a pine, he tore it out, and with
difficulty hoisted it on his back, and set out toward
the river. It was easily lifted over the low stone
wall of the graveyard, but as he set it on the top of
the fence beyond the road, and began to climb over,
the rail broke and he fell, the heavy marble tumbling
.:i his foot so as to cut the instep. He sat down,

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

261

vere J)ent
tangle of
ranchings
jnougli in

ges of the
ed the in-
by it, but
B of being
lite frame-
1 month it
ti minister,
it for two

oked about
lbs of gray
jraves, over
ked around
1 the rapids
st over the
at last on
the child's
and began
it was loos-
would have
, and with
out toward
low stone
n the top of
climb over,
le tumbling
sat down,

with an oath, and took off his boot. He was in great
pain. The boot was torn, as he found, and half full
of blood. It was an hour before he could get it on
again and walk at all.

At length he got over the broken fence, thinking
only in his suffering of the woman and how she
would like what he meant to do for her. Twice he
failed to lift the slab onto his back, and twice lay
down beside it, overcome by a strong feeling that
after all he might fail. At last, in such extremity
of pain as would have conquered most men, he got
up, and set his teeth, and resolutely took up his bur-
den. It must have been the most ii. ense hour of a
life without power to call up the past by means of
; pictures, for, as he staggered through the gloom,

sweating with effort and from increasing torture, he
was given a brief moment when he saw Susan as he
first knew her, a slim, strong, young woman, with the
emphatic beauty of anger upon her. It made him
stronger, and he went on. At last he reached the
dugout, and saying, from mere habit, " Thank the
Lord ! I done it," he sat a while with his foot in
the cool river water.

It was true that i;t no moment had he felt the ter-
rors which few had escaped in the lonely home of the
dead he had robbed. Now he was at ease and as-
sured of success. He laid the stone in the boat. As
he stood an instant in the gloom of a profound still-
ness, a cold gust of wind came down from the hills,
and, with wail and roar in the pines beyond, swooped
onto the level, and for a moment shook life of move-
ment into the dead gray streamers of moss and the

17*

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262

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

f'l

* »i

hanging wreckage of torn underbrush. The next
moment all was still again. It is not a very rare
phenomenon, but he might not before have given it
attention. Somehow its unusualness impressed him,
so that he shivered as he felt the momentary cool-
ness, and with this came the familiar notion of his
childhood that a dog was crawling over his grave.
He jumped into the pirogue, shoved it off, and was
at once away in the current. As he sat down, with
his paddle in hand, he reflected that the white stone
was full in view and that some one might by chance
be out with a drag-net poaching. He put into shore,
and carefully covered the stone with ferns. There
was, of course, the risk of a river-warden's inquisi-
tion, but he knew when the rounds were made, and
so ran on fearlessly, keeping a sharp eye ahead.

No one troubled him. He got ashore near his
cabin, and still in the utmost pain, resting often on
the way, earned the stone to the wood, where, in se-
cure remoteness from his house, he could go on with
the needed work. On his way homeward ho picked
up two steel traps as an excuse for his absonce.

When he entered the house it was early morning,
and, to his surprise, he found Susan afoot. Her habit
was to lie abed until Joe had been up some time, kin-
dled the fire, and perhaps even had set the frying-
pan to heat, and made tea, which she was accustomed
to drink in excessive amounts. On other days, of
late, she was apt to lie abed still longer, to refuse
food, and decline to take the least notice of Joe. For
him these moods represented the mother's grief. If
he did not fully comprehend it, he at least tried his

lEN

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AEE GREEN

263

The next
, very rave
ve given it
ressed him,
ntary cool-
)tion of his
his grave.
)fl, and was
down, with
white stone
it by chance
t into shore,
>rns. There
len's inquisi-
•e made, and
sye ahead.
)re near his
ing often on
where, in se-
d go on with
rd he picked
jsonce.
ly morning.
Her habit
me time, kin-
the frying-
s accustomed
her days, of
^er, to refuse
of Joe. For
3r's grief. If
east tried his

best to disregard the inconvenience thus added to his
wretched life. His canine simpleness craved mere
affectionate regard, and in its lack, and the undefined
misery this caused him, the woman possessed a deadly
weapon. And now, on this occasion, to his surprise
she was up, and his sorry breakfast of stale bread
and bacon ready.

Of trees to fell, or quality of rafted lumber, he
knew enough to be a good hand in the woods or on
the spring drives, l:at naturally enough was unob-
servant of people. Nevertheless he noticed that his
wife had on a not uncleanly gown, and a bit of worn
ribbon, and had set her unkempt locks in order.

'* Law, Susie, you look right slick," he said.

" Been after the traps, Joe ? " she said, glancing at
the rusty irons in his hand. " Get anything 'i "

" Guess so. A mus'rat and a wood-chuck."

" Let 's see." He went out and brought them in.

*' Chuck 's good and fat, Susie, and I know where
another one lives ! "

" Just ain't he fat ! And the rat-skin ? "

" That ain't much."

"But it 'd make a nice purse if there was any
money to put in it."

" That 's so, Susie."

"But we '11 get something to put in it," she said,
setting her large red eyes on the man, and speaking
with cold cheerfulness.

" Yes," he returned hastily. " I '11 get a job up
river soon. Them Boston men 's set on buildin' a
house. Thought I 'd see 'bout gettin' on to that.''

" Is Carington comin' to hunt caribou ? "

264

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

'•;

" Don't know rightly. He ain't said nothin', 'cept
last week. I ain't seen him since."

" He '11 come, I gness, Joe, and then, if you 're a
man, there '11 be a chance."

" Yes, yes," he said anxiously. " Time 'nough."

He was dreadfully scared. He felt that he might
be made to do anything.

A smile crawled sluggishly over her face. " That 's
so. But the thing is to get your mind set to it.
Might happen a good chance any day."

He was too simple not to sliow his fear, and she
was quick enough to see.

''You trust mi;, old man, to fix it, and there won't
be nobody '11 ever guess who done it."

" You ain't called me your old man, Susie, this two
year," he said. " Now don't you go for to want me
to do somethin' like that."

"There ain't no harm in considerin' things, Joe.
Everything 's just gone against you and me, and if a
good chance was tc turn up — a right safe one — I
guess you 'd not be the man I took you for if you
don't just grab it."

"Well, we '11 see,'' he said, eager to get off the
subject. He had become set in his mind as to this
matter, and meant somehow to escape the toils she
was casting about him. "What 's for breakfast,
Susie ? "

" Oh, that old hen 's took to layin' again. There 's
eggs and bacon, and I done you some slapjacks."

" That 's good. I 'm hungry." As he passed her
to sit at the table he kissed her. " Why, you look
right pert to-day."

'f»i flJ

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 265

"Thought you might be j -spyin' round Dory. Got
to keep an eye on you feUows/' and she laughed
Manufactured laughter is a dreary product; but it
answered for poor Joe as well as the most honest
coinage of a merry heart. It set him at ease for a
time and they ate, while the woman tried to revive
for her victim the coarse coquetry of her younger
days, when she attracted or revolted men as their
natures chanced to be.

ft;'

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11 1 1

CHAPTER XXI

' (

YNDSAY had set his heart on a sec-
ond Sunday; morning on the nver,
with Rose and the trees. She read-
ily gave up her proposed morning
visit to Dorothy, and said the af-
ternoon would answer. Miss Anne
thought she herself was strong enough for the party,
and Rose, much pleased, set about arranging her
cushions in Tom's canoe.

" We will be back to lunch, mama," said Rose. " It
is early. Will it rain ? It looks hazy."

" It is smoke. Rose. Some far-away fii'e. Where
are the boys^ Tom ? "

"Up-river, sir, with the Gaspe men."
" Who gave them leave to go ? "
"You, papa," said Rose. "I suspect they have
gone after those unhappy hornets. They were uj)
and away long ago. They asked you last night.''
''Did they?"

" Yes ; you were deep in a book, and said ' Yes,
yes/ in your dear old absent way."

" I am sorry. Mama thinks it a naughty amuse-
ment at best, and when there is also the additional
naughtiness of battle on Sunday! Well, they will
be properly stung with remorse or hornet-fangs, or

266

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 267

n a sec-
le river,
he read-
tiioruing
, the af-
iss Anne
lie party,
giug lier

ose.

"It

Where

liey have
were np
night.''

said 'Yes,

ty amuse-
additional
they will
b-faugs, or

a combination. The wounded will he pardoned, I
fancy. Hey, Rose?"

" Like enough."

Mrs. Maybrook's vivid account of Susan Colkett's
talk with Joe had made on Lyndsay at first a strong
impression of disgust and annoyance. He saw in it,
after cooler reflection, only one of the numberless
beginnings of tragic crime which are refused the pros-
perity of opportunity. We have no proverbial wis-
dom as to what place bad intentions go to pave ; but
those who see much of the darker ways of man are
well aware that there is much intended evil, as well
as intended good, which never gets beyond the egg
of theory. The crime which Susan Colkett was nurs-
ing with the devil-milk of base use of a man's honest
love grew less momentous to Lyndsay as he consid-
ered it. Once suspected, it became to him almost
childlike in its foolishness. Crime-seed, like the
grain of the parable, falls everywhere. There is a
human climate in which, above all others, it finds
swift maturity of growth.

Siij^an Colkett was by nature inclined to Gvil. She
had base animal cravings, liking high colors and
coarse meats. A want was with her at once a fierce
hunger of desire, and made temptation dangerous to
one who had in its crude fullness brute courage, and
that dreadful alliance of the sensual with the destruc-
tive instincts which is more rare in woman than in
man. But of Susan Colkett's personality Lyndsay
knew almost nothing. He was, however, by no means
indifferent as to the matter, but had .simply put off
speaking of it to Carington for want of an easy chance.

!,1

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268

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

As they came opposite the Island Camp, Lyndsay
said abruptly:

" Run her up onto the beach, Pierre."

' Are you going to stop ? I wish you would n't
stop, papa. "We have a very short time to-day."

" I shall be back in a momeut. I have been put-
ting off a little matter of — of business with Car-
ington. I shall not be long." Meanwhile Anne
Lyndsay's canoe also came to shore.

Rose said no more. She saw her father disappear
into the tent, come out with Carington, and begin to
walk to and fro on the upper slope. Very soon she
began to be curious, as she saw them pause and turn
and go on again.

" What are they talking about, Aunt Anne f "

Miss Lyndsay looked up from a book. '* How on
earth, my dear, should I know ? "

" But are you not curious ? "

"Yes, I am always curious — as to the good, and as
to the bad, and as to everything in between."

Rose laughed. " That covers the whole possibili-
ties. Here they come. Now I shall know."

" I don't think you will."

" A pair of gloves to a pound of bonbons."

" Done, goosey ! "Whom will you ask ? "

" That is my business. There was no limit of time."

"None! But you will lose. Your father looks
solemn, and Mr. Carington like a sphinx."

"Given two men and one woman, aunty, and a
thing to find out: that seems an easy equation."

" I see the unknown quantity written clear on both
faces. You won't win."

ill

WHEN ALL TIIK WOODS AKE GREEN

209

(Jarington stood a monieut in gay cliat with llosu.
Then Lyndsay said :

" You won't come with us ? "

"No; not to-day." His question was settled witli-
out the thermometer. He was clear enough as to the
indiscreetness of a useless morning with Rose and
two others, and a meeting at Mrs. Maybrook's in the
afternoon. He would abide by the later chance and
its less distracting accompaniments.

" We shall look for you both to-morrow," said Miss
Anne Lyndsay. And they poled away up the river,
while Rose talked to her father, biding her time to
win her little bet.

Anne, lying in her own canoe, and very comforta-
ble, fell into amused reflection. If books were what
she dearly loved and closely studied, she had a no less
active fancy for that rarer occupation, the serious
study of the human face. It is a difficult branch of
observation, because one may not too often or too at-
tentively examine the features of those with whom we
are in immediate social contact. Like her friend, Dr.
North, she preferred on the whole the critical study
of women's faces. She declared that only these re-
paid attention, and that the hirsute growths of men
were, like the jungle, useful for the concealment of
animal expressions. She remarked with interest that
Carington lacked this partial mask, and said to her-
self, " That man has something on his mind. Is it
about what Archie has been telling him ? I shall ask
Archie." Then she went back to her book, which was
her favorite " Reisebilder."

In the other canoe, Rose had brought the talk

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270

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

around several sharp corners, and at last, having no
better chance, said :

"You looked worried, Pardy, or so very grave,
when you were talking to Mr. Carington. Has he
been naughty, papa?"

" No."

" Well, what was it ? You both seemed so intent."

"Allow me, miss, to ask if intere&t in me, in Mr.
Carington, or in the unknown is at the thriving root
of your evident curiosity ? "'

" In you, Marc. Aurelius."

" That is pretty clever, miss. Permit me to reply,
in the language of my namesake, * Mere curiosity is
like a road which leads nowhere : what profits it to
go that way ? Also as to things it may be well, or as
to those in whom we have an interest, but not as to
the horde of men.' Now, as you have expressed no
interest in it as a thing unknown, and none as to
Mr. Carington, or mankind, and as it concerns him
chiefly, I shall forever after hold my peace. You
lost your chance."

" Give me another."

"Not I."

" But I made a bet with Aunt Anne."

" Then pay it. Have you exhausted your feminine
arts?"

"All — I give up ; but I mean to know. I shall ask
Mr. Carington."

" I would n't do that, my dear child."

" Oh, Pardy ! How you rose to that fly ! Imagine
it!"

" You minx ! Halloa, Tom ! Hold up a moment.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

271

Drop anchor here. I want to stop." They were near
to the farther bank. " Here, Pierre, put your canoe
alongside. Are you all right, Anne ? "

"Perfectly."

" I want to show you something before the sun is
too high. Can you sketch here, Rose ? The boat is
pretty quiet ? "

" I am not sure ; I can try."

" How much darker it is, Tom ! "

" Yes, sir. It 's the smoke. It 's been about a bit
for a day or two. Now the wind 's to south, it 's get-
tin' kind of thicker. There 's a big fire somewhere."

"How far?"

"Might be a hundred miles away. 'Heap big
smudge,' Polycarp says."

" Look now," said Lyndsay. " Try to get me these
water-tints. Take a bit of it."

" I can't. What makes these colors ? Thev are
beyond me."

" The sun must be back of you ; the water near
you — that is, you must be low down. Then the
stone-tints of the river-bed are caught by the many
changeful mirrors of the sui'face. It is, as you see,
pretty well wave-broken here. Also, the general
color is that of this yellow-red gravel slope oppo-
site, mixed with the green of the trees."

"Then," said Anne, "it gets color — surface color
— from within, and also from without, like one's per-
sonality."

" That is it, I see," said Rose. " But the blue in
the waves is so deep — deeper than the sky. It is
intense indigo. More heavenly than heaven."

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f' fcii

" Yes, that is so. It is because, as we partly face
the current, you look into the concavities of thou-
sands of waves, and each condenses, so to speak, the
blue of large sky spaces. Am I clear ? "

"'Each nobler soul inherits heaven's largeness/"
quoted Anne.

" Thanks, aunty. The greenish gold of the surface
is the color of the bank, made also deeper in hue be-
cause of being caught on the myriad rippling of the
water."

" Good, my dear."

" How beautiful it is ! — the flashing cupf uls of blue
in among this bloom of green and gold. No one
could paint it."

" It is best at evening. Rose, but not at this point.
There is a place some miles up where the general sur-
face is silvered by a mass of white or light-gray
granite, and in this you have set again the numberless
wave-shells of indigo-blue — a danct of blue in silver."

"Is n't that smoke getting very much thicker?
The colors are less brilliant now."

"Yes, ma'am. The wind bbws it up the gorges.
Happen might smell it."

"I do," said Anne. "One can hardly see the farther
hiUs."

" Some men," said Lyndsay, " fancy that it affects
the fishing unfavorably ; but two years ago, on the
Cascapedia, the water was so saturated with smoke
as to be undrinkable, and still the fish rose well. I
wanted to study with you again, Rose, the purple
color of the dead trees above us ; but this smoke will
somewhat affect it."

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

273

i*tly face
of thou-
peak, the

•geness,' "

le surface
n hue be-
ing of the

lis of blue
, No one

this point,
eneral sur-
light-gray
mmberless
in silver."
^1 thicker?

le gorges.

the farther

it affects
go, on the
rith smoke
se well. I
the purple
smoke will

" Let us get on to the beach, papa." And in a mo-
ment they were seated on a log, Anne lying at ease
beside them.

" It gets still more dense, Rose. We must give up
the water. Sketch that sprawling dead pine yonder ;
it seems reeling back, and the one in front looks as if
it had just hit it."

" How droll, Archie ! " said Anne. " May I talk, or
will it disturb the higher art ? "

" No. Talk as much as you like. No one could be
cruel enough to deny you the safety-valve of talk."

" If you had said no, I should have wanted to talk.
I am now perversely inclined to silence."

" It is a self -limited disease with you, Anne."

"Thank you! I was wondering a little whether
you were right about the use of minute observation
of nature by the poets. Rose told me what you had
said. It was, I think, that Wordsworth was apt to be
over-credited "^vith this faculty, and that others have
had it far beyond him."

" Yes ; it is the spiritual use of what he saw that is
his distinctive quality. I think he carries that at
times to the utmost endurable limit — even to near
touch of the absurd."

" That may be so. I think the limits of acceptance
depend on one's moods. Of course, too minute notice
in verse of natural peculiarities may be possible.
Now, these colors — how could one put them in
verse ? "

" Oh, aunty, you forget :

* A silver plane of fretted gold,
Set thick with shells of violet blue.' "

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274

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" That is mere description, Archie — good enough
and true ; but what I mean is that accurate descrip*
tion does not, as a rule, consist with poetry. The
best of it seizes a single trait, and with it links some
human emotion. You can't catalogue in verse, as
Walt Whitman does."

" My dear old Walt ! " said Lyndsay. " I am
thankful for what he gives, and do not quarrel with
what he does not. I am inclined to think that he
will outlive some of his seeming betters. I have
been more than once struck, in talking with him, by
his entire unconsciousness of the fact that, while he
believed himself to be the poet of the masses, he
found his only readers among the most cultivated
class."

" Could I read him ? You said once that I could
not," said Rose.

" He is hardly piieris et virginibusqiie, my dear ; but
his later editions are fairly expurgated of what had
as well never been written. Anne will give you his
great poem, ' The Dream of Columbus,' and ' The Con-
vict,' ttiid ' My Captain,' and ' When Lilacs Bloom.'
A friend of North's once gave Walt, through him, a
check which he much needed, asking in return an
autograph copy of 'My Captain.' He took the gift
with entire simplicity, and sent two copies of that
noble verse. He was the most innocently and en-
tirely vain creature I ever knew. The perfect story
of his vanity will, I fancy, never be written. It was
past belief."

" What a fine head he had a few years ago," said
Anne,

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GKEEN

275

verse, as

*' Yes ; he was a great big child, and he looked then
like the Greek busts of Jove."

" He should always be read aloud,*' returned Anne,
"and read, too, with a little contribution of rhyth-
mical flattery. If I were Mr. EUett, T. would say,
'Now, that is n't at all a bad remark.'"

" You appear to have said so, Aunt Anne."

"I have. If I were a poet, I would set over my
verses, * Read this aloud ' j or, ' Read this to your-
self ' ; or, ' To be read under a tree over a woman's
f'houlder'; or, 'With a pipe in autumn.'"

" What a nice idea, aunty ! When you were talk-
ing just now of the use of natural descriptions, I
meant to tell you what Mr. Carington said."

" Well."

" He said it seemed to him a fine and artful thing
in Shakspere to set amidst the crime of Macbeth all
that prettiness about innocent nature ; the descrip-
tion of the martlets and the castle, you know."

" It is true," said Anne. " It is quite true. Does
the young man talk well? I am not sure that his
remark is new ; but no matter. How little of one's
talk can be that I"

" I thought he talked fairly well. He did not say
it was his own thought."

" No matter. It is hen trovatoP

" I think it was his own," said Rose.

"Oh!"

"How the smoke still thickens, papa! And the
water is now a green bronze."

"Yes, and the sun — Here is my word-sketch:
' Eleven a. m. Sun over and back of me. Air full

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276 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

of smoke. Hills a delicate, airy blue. Sun orange-red,
with a blur of yellow around it. All shadows on gray
sand a faint green. Delicate opalescence on smooth,
slightly rippled water. Deep purple reflections of
dead trees. Sense of strangeness — of mystery.'"

" That is almost as good as a picture, Pardy."

" At early morning here," he went on, " the river-
bed is full of mist. The combination of this with
smoke gives some very weird effects. If we have a
bright yellow sunset this evening, the dead trees on
the hilltops will be of a pure orange tint."

"I shall imagine the morning colors," said Rose.
" I am like the salmon. How they are rising now ! "

"Yes; and so is my appetite. Shall we go? It
will be lunch-time before we get back."

" And this is our last Sunday on the river for this
year," said Rose.

" And perhaps my last for all years," thought Anne;
yet what she said was this :

"I have been trying to make out, Archie, why
water is such a lovely thing. Why is it?"

"I don't know."

" Nor I. It is the one thing in nature which has
moods for me, — I mean many moods. Then it is the
one natural thing which has something like laughter."

" Time writes no wrinkles, etc.," cried Rose.

" And it has no memory or record of its works. Is
that part of its seeming joyousness? Ani never —
never is in straight lines."

" Rather obvious that, Anne."

" But it was n't obvious to me a half -hour ago. I
am pleased with my discovery. Don't tell me Ruskin

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 277

has said it. I know he has not, or if he has, he had
no business to have said it, and you can't patent
ideas."

" But Anne — " Lyndsay began.

"Don't, Archie. I am not to be contradicted to-
day."

" I was going to agree with you " ; and he laughed.
" May not a fellow even agree with you ? "

" Certainly, if he agreeably agrees with me. There
are — oh, there are hateful ways of agreeing with
people."

Then Rose was about to mention Mr. Carington's
use of the word agreeable, but refrained, she did not
know why. She caught the words about to issue out,
and put them back into a corner of silence, and did
say:

" Wliat you say. Aunt Anne, of water reminds me
of what Mr. W. said about a picture, last spring, of
great war-ships coming through a mist toward us.
It was rather fine. But the water was set in such
stiff, orderly billows that Mr. W. said, * Yes, Britan-
nia certainly has been ruling the waves.' "

" I had forgotten it," said Anne. " Now I remem-
ber that our English friend did not capture the
meaning."

'' Oh, no. Really, Pardy, it sometimes makes life
hard in England, this sort of inaptitude to turn with
quick apprehension from grave to gay."

" It would suit your mama. I am not sure that I
like our unending tendency to see things or put
things in ridiculous aspects — no, not just ridicu-
lous, — help me to a word ; not funny, either, — some-

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278 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

where among the lost words, the verbal refuse-heaps
of Old English, there must be the word I want."

" We know what you mean," said Anne. " I agree
with you. Our newspapers are every day painfully
funny for me. To deal all the time with the serious
so as perpetually to make it seem trifling by putting
it in comic guises is to damage one's true souse of
humor."

"And of the serious, which is worse," said Lyudsay.

"And, Archie, I don't like the constant misuse of
words it brings about. I don't like to lose respect
for words. I don't like their characters taken away,
so as to unfit them for their next place. Words have
duties."

" That is all true, Anne ; but if we begin to abuse
newspapers, we shall nev er get home. And they are
so infallible, confound them! — an absolutely honest
confession that they have told what was not true is
the last thing you can get out of them. The editor
who would not contradict a false paragraph as to a
man's death is a good example : he offer.ed to put in
a statement of the man's birth ! Let us go home."

Laughing, they pushed off, and, soon lapsing into
silence, slid away down the dancing rapids, under an
ever dimmer sunshine, as the smoke grew more and
more dense. Now and then Lyndsay saw something
to remember in wood or water, and made brief note
of it. He had a mind some day to make a small
book about word-sketching. Probably he would
never do it; but it is pleasant to pet our little en-
terprises, until, maturing in thought, they get too
large for the mother-lap.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

279

Rose watched the araber waters, and then, furtively,
the Island Camp, where was noontide quiet, and no
man in sight.

The two canoes were held together as they ran
down-stream, and only now and then a guiding pad-
dle was used.

" You have had a nice little nap," said Lyndsay.

"I have," said Anne. "I am the only person I
know who will admit to having slept in daylight. I
slept little last night, and — is n't it droll ? — I took
just now into my sleep a queer little bit of the
Orient. I think it is rare to carry one's thoughts
with one unbroken into the land of dreams. But I
did, and I went on dreaming of it."

"What was it, aunty?"

"Only some stuflf out of the 'Legenda Aureata.'
It would not interest you."

"Anne ! " "Aunty ! " they cried. " It used to be El
Din Attar, and Haflz. Now it is the * Talmud ' or
the * Golden Legends.' You are a horrid humbug,"
added Lyndsay.

" You are a dear, sweet, altogether nice humbug,"
said Rose. "What was it?"

"Then listen, children. When Adam and Eve
were turned out of Eden, they could get no sleej>)
because of their tears — for when tears part the lids
what man may slumber? Therefore all night long
they complained. After awhUe the birds flew up to
heaven and said, *We have done no wrong, neither
have we eaten of the tree, nor do we know good from
evil. Yet these two keep us awake with their cries.'
Then the Christ came down to help them, and, com-

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280

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ABE GREEN

ing to Adam, said, 'What is there thou wilt give
God for sleep ?' And Adam said, ' We have but one
thiug left us: we will give love.' And the Christ
said, ' It is enough. Forasmuch as even the kings of
the earth receive no gift without returning a better,
therefore for thy love thou shalt have God's larger
love and also sleep.' 80 the man and the woman
slept, and the birds had rest. And it was said later,
* He giveth his beloved sleep.' "

" Is n't it pretty, papa ? "

"Rather. But, Anne— "

" I am sleepy," she said. " By-by," and she pushed
their canoe away. " Let go, Pierre ; I want to go to
sleep again."

" Was it out of some book, Pardy f "

" Gracious, Rose, how do I know?"

CHAPTER XXII

|HE Sunday stillness of the Island
Camp was broken by lunch^ and
after it Ellett thought he would go
down to call on the Lyndsays, and
perhaps Fred might like to go with
him. But Fred had letters to write
— he was too lazy — he wished to finish a novel.
However, he wrote a note to Mr. Lyndsay, to say
that on Thursday he meant to go down ih" river to
Mackenzie to see a man ab< «t a cabin he dt u'^ to
have built on the Island, and vould call to usk if Mi
Lyndsay still wished him to ultVf a check cashed at
the bank, in order to pay his men. ^ii. >, ho could
then arrange for the tickets and sleeping-car uc<o)»n-
modations Mr. Lyndsay's family needled on their re-
turn. And thus, having secured the abiweuwo of Ellett.
he saw him depart, and for an hour or more smoked,
and diligently struggled with a book by a sadly . .\';r-
ary woman who was contributing her feeble feriueuf
of doubts to enliven the summer moods of man and
maid. At last he rose, pitching the book across the
tent, and said aloud:

"There was a young woman of Boston,
A blanket of doubts she was tossed on;
Four fiends who were scomers
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282 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

Had clutch of tho corners.
They tossed her so high
That she stayed in the sky,
And doubts the existence of Boston.

I forget the other nine verses. Michelle, halloa I Put
me across ! "

" Pshaw ! " he exclaimed, as he strode through the
summer woods. " I hate books which land you in the
country of nowhere." And he thought, smiling, of
the famous Eastern tale of the caliph and the phil-
osopher: "Who are you?" said Haroun. "I don't
know." " Where are you going ? " "I don't know."
" Where are you from ? " "I don't know. I write
books; what about is for him that readeth to dis-
cern. To know nothing is the Path of Negation by
which you attain knowledge of the infinite Nothing."
" Then," said the caliph, " in the language of El Din
Attar, ' One serious conviction is better than armies
of denial : more wholesome is it to believe in Satan
than to deny God.' In order that thou mayest abide
on the seat of wisdom for a week and acquire one
earthly certainty, thou shalt have the bastinado ! "
" Where did I read that stuff ? " he thought, and went
along, humming snatches of song, his own or others,
for he scribbled a little, and had some musical touch
of the light grace of the song; but "intended no
monuments of books."

The woods soon ^brought back to him the mood of
contentment, which is one of their many mysteries.
The most delightful possibilities are those which
never occur, and of these the woods are full. The
delicate sense of something about to happen began

k I

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

283

to possess Carington. He went on his way, smiling,
and now and then stood still to touch a tree, or
notice some unusual giant, or to note some singu-
larity of limb or bole.

An hour or more of sharp walking brought him
to the cabin of the Maybrooks. It was closed. He
passed around it, and saw no sign of its inhabitants.
He knocked and got no reply. Then he said a
naughty word, and went and sat down on the edge
of the well and reflected. He was more disappointed
than he felt willing to admit. By and by he acquired
wisdom, and went to the brook, where would have
been the grilse if Rose and her attendant had come
and gone. Seeing no fish lying in this cool larder,
he felt better and went back to the well. There
doubt awaited him with the possibility of Dory
having gone to the Cliff Camp, which would have
made needless Miss Rose's intended visit. He had
been stupid in not anticipating this contingency. At
least he would wait awhile.

And now there was a sudden gleam far away
among the trees, unseen by this young man who was
gazing down into the cool depths of the well. Had
he looked that other way this flutter of color in the
trampled ox-road would soon have become to him a
pink muslin gown. The wearer carried a basket in
her right hand, and in the left, swinging it gaily as
she walked, a broad straw hat. At the wood skirt
she paused to change her burden to the less tired
hand, — for she had been of a mind to come alone,
and now found her flve-pound fish to have gained in
weight. As she looked up, she was aware of Mr.

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

Carington seated on the edge of the well, his back
toward her. He was singing:

Oh, merry 't is in proud La Moine,

I hear my glad heart sing ;
The flag is up, the fleet is safe,

And the blessed church-bells ring.

Oh, here 's a kiss, and there 's a kiss.

For you, good northern wind,
That brought our fishers home again,

For you left no soul behind.

And here 's a kiss, and there 's a kiss,

Because my heart is glad;
And there be twenty dozen left.

And my sweet sailor lad.

He sang with little art, but with every word clear,
and as a man alone sings for company of sound.

Rose stood still and heard it out, liking it, but
hesitated a little, half hid behind a huge pine, — a
pleasant picture of a maiden struck shy of a sudden.
What had happened? There is a little timepiece
which Cupid winds up. It ticks quietly, and by and
by strikes a fateful hour, or we take it out to see
how goes the enemy, and behold! it is to-morrow.
Love is the fool of time.

Rose stood a moment, as I have said, not forty feet
away, a little inclined to retreat, — aware that, if de-
tected, this would mean something, she knew not
what. At last, seeing the need of action, she made a
strategic movement to left, and said, " Are you look-
ing for Truth?"

" Good heavens ! Miss Lyndsay," and he rose from
his seat on the edge of the well. The prettiness of

lis

back

ss,

rord clear,

sound.
Dg it, but
? pine, — a

a sudden.

timepiece
nd by and
out to see
;o-morrow.

forty feet
that, if de-
knew not
she made a
e you look-

e rose from
rettiness of

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

285

the picture struck him as Rose came forward: the
pink gown, fresh from the looms of fairy-land, set
fair against the greenwood spaces, the faint excess of
color in her cheeks, and the look of unconsciousness
which goes surely with natural distinction of carriage.

" Did you come up out of Mother Earth ? Are you
sure it is you ? "

"I am. I came over to give my grilse to Mrs.
Maybrook."

" Our grilse, you remember."

"I do not; but it is no matter. I came to give
Dorothy the grilse."

" She is not at home. Let me take the basket. I
will put it in the brook. Did you carry it ? "

" I did. It weighs — I assure you— twenty pounds !
I must see it bestowed." And she followed him into
the wood along a narrow path to a basin of brown
water. The stream crawled forth here from under a
fallen tamarack, and seemed to hesitate a little in the
pool below. Then it gathered decision for flight,
and leaped out, tripping across the tangled roots as it
went. Carington laid the fish in the water, and two
stones upon it.

" It is cooler here than outside," he said. " Dorothy
will be back in a little while."

After this outrage on truth, he added :

" I came over to pay my milk-bill."

Then Rose, of a sudden remembering what she had
said the daj before as to this errand of hers, became
at once conscious of being in the country of a pleas-
ant enemy. Therefore she made a neutral remark
as she looked about her :

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" How pretty it is here ! "

"It is prettier a little way up, where the spring
comes out under a rock."

" I should like to see it, but I must go. I have no
time to spare. I must go home. I have so much of
nothing to do here, and there is nothing takes so
much time as doing nothing ! "

"That is more mysterious than my little spring.
Do come. It is only a step."

" If it is really only a step." And she went with
him, as he answered:

" Yes, almost literally."

He put aside the bushes, and ten feet away came
where, from under a broad, mossy stone, a gush of
water broke forth with a brisk air of liking it. She
stood still, pleased with that she saw.

" The dear, sweet, little thing ! " she cried.

" It seems glad to get out," he said. " Perhaps it
has some strange craving for sunshine; and think
what a journey underground in the darkness, like a
soul in prison."

" Go on," she said, still looking down, and consider-
ing the fine wholesomeness of its untainted life.

" How it got a little help here, and strength there,
and climbed up from under the bases of the hills, and
of a sudden found light and voice and purpose, and
goes on its way, not minding obstacles. Pretty, is n't
it ? It seems so eager."

"Yes. I wonder will the sea answer its riddle."
It was a quite alarming little parable to this quick-
witted young woman. "How it hurries! And it
reminds me I too must be going. It says, * Come.' "

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

287

" Does it, indeed ? But it does not say, * Go.' "

" I am so sorry I have missed Dorothy."

"You might give her a few moments. She will
not be long. I shall have to * bide,' as she says. I
came to pay my milk-bill. Pray consider my melan-
choly prospect if I have to stay here by myself ! "

"Certainly a sad trial," she said, smiling; "but I
really must go." She began to move back again to-
ward the pool.

" Does she know you meant to leave the grilse ? It
will spoil if it is not cleaned. Grilse spoil so easily."

It was difficult for mendacity to go beyond this
latter statement.

" I am sorry, but I can leave a note in the doorway.
Yes, I have a card, by good luck. Have you a pencil ? "

This time lie achieved the lie direct, and said, " No!
but it is near milking-time, and Hiram will be
'p'inted' this way of a certainty."

" I really cannot wait. "What time is it ?"

" How late it is ! " he replied, glancing at his watch.
" I had not the least idea it was so late. They ought
to be here now. It is half -past five."

There was good judgment Li this fib. If he made
it early she would not think it worth while to wait,
and if very late, she would be sure to go at once.

"Indeed! Only half -past five! I will rest a few
minutes."

" Better sit down," he said. She took her place on
a rock, while he cast himself down at her feet, divid-
ing the ferns as he lay. She felt that she had been
infirm of purpose. He gave her no time to analyze
her weakness.

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" You are very good not to leave me in the naughty
company of myself."

" It is no j goodnejs at all : it is self-indulgence. I
am a little tired ; that fish was very heavy. But you
have not told me what you were looking for in the
well."

" What do you folks look for in a well ? " he asked,
in turn.

" Truth, I suppose. "Was that what you were look-
ing for?"

" Yes."

"And did not find it."

" I shall."

" There is more water here," she said, laughing,
and then could have bitten her wicked tongue.

"Ah ! we don't look for it in shallow waters. There
must be quiet for reflection."

"■ Indeed ! What were you singing about ? " she
added, abruptly. " What is ' La Moine ' f I caught
the name."

" I am glad you asked. On the coast near to Bar
Harbor there is a little fishing-town, La Moine. The
cod-fishers go out in a fleet from its small port in
June, to the banks. The voyage, and, in fact, the
whole life at sea of these brave fellows, is full of
peril. When the home-bound fleet is sighted, the
people go to the beach, and a lookout stays in the
church-steeple. If he sees no flag flying from the
nearest smack, it means that one or more men have
been lost, and then the bells are silent. But if he
sees the signal flag, all is well : there has been no life
lost, and the bells ring out merrily."

t'i

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

289

k «

naughty

fence. I
But you
)!• in the

le asked,

ere look-

iaughing,

ae.

rs. There

ut?" she
I eaught

lar to Bar
ine. The
11 port in

fact, the
is full of
^hted, the
lys in the

from the
men have
But if he
een no life

" "What a pretty story ! Tell me more, as the chil-
dren say. It sounds like a bit of Brittany. It is the
girl who sings ? "

'• Yes. A girl — the girl."

" Who made the verses ? Where did you find
them?"

"A local poet," and he smiled.

"Yourself?"

" Yes ; when I get away from my work my brain is
apt to run on such stuff."

" Oh, I like them. Won't you copy them for me ? "

" You ask too much. But what am I to have in
return ? "

" The pleasure of obliging me."

" Good ! You shall have them."

'' Thank you. Aunt Anne will like the story, and
Dorothy — it is strange how easily that woman is
interested. Don't you like her ? "

"Yes, very much. But, then, we are rather old
friends. I was not here last year, and this year
I find Hiram a good deal changed. It seems as
though Fate had dealt hardly with Dorothy. She
has so much tact, such natural good manners, and
you would smile if I said distinction."

" No, I should not. It is a word which has ac-
quired a fine flavor, and is well applied here. I am
always tempted to feel sorry, when with her, that she
must always have this narrow life."

" I do not think the idea ever occurred to her."

" Possibly not. She is by nature contented, and a
source of contentment, which is more rare."

"That is true. I never see her without feeling

.ri

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200

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GKEEN

' Bl

.1 £rt

that I have gained something. She is in a real sense
influential."

'' It seems odd, or perhaps it is not, but she has the
same effect upon me. I hardly fancy that in her
class you could find this creature repeated."

" She has a similar effect on Ellett, and human
nature does not repeat itself. I mean that even the
type is rare. It is purely natural, — owes little to the
education of events."

" Yes, rare in all classes, I should say. My Aunt
Anne is in some ways queerly like Dorothy."

"Indeed?"

"As I am like Jack. You may smile, — I am. Yes,
and that makes me think of Jack. Poor fellow ! he
fancies you utterly despise him."

" No? Does he ? I will ask him to go after a bear
with me. I was quite too rough with him, but really

However, I do not want to talk about that

horrid morning. I thought he was splendidly cour-
ageous and equally outrageous."

" There is courage and courage."

" Yes, of course. It admits of analysis. I am often a
coward myself ; I am desperately afraid of some things."

"Of what?" she said, smiling.

" I will tell you some day. It is not well to tell a
woman everything ; one loses interest as one satisfies
curiosity." He was on thin ice now, — but ice it was,
as he found out, — what Jack would have called tickly
benders.

" I have no curiosity, — none at all. I think I must
go," she said. "I really must go," and she rose,
adding, " There is Dorothy, at last."

"1^

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

291

al sense

1 has the
i iu her

. human
even the
ble to the

My Aunt

tim. Yes,
ellow! he

ter a bear
but really
,bout that
lidly cour-

am often a
ne things."

ell to tell a

ne satisfies

ice it was,

ailed tickly

link I must
she rose,

He was as much relieved as she. He had seen but
little of this young woman, and his reason told him
clearly enough that he had been near the crumbling
brink of folly, and that he had better be careful.
He also rose, and they went over to the cabin, where
Dorothy greeted them. It was not possible for a
person as shrewd as Dorothy, knowing what had
passed o.. the beach with the bear, not to have some
notion of what it might lead to in the future. She
had in her a fine feminine spice of romance. Now
she said, in her quiet way, "Good afternoon! Did
you happen to meet my Hiram 3f"

" No," said Caringtou.

" I brought you a grilse, Mrs. Maybrook. It is in
the pool."

" I am that obliged to you. Guess I '11 smoke it, if
it is n't too big. Come in. I just pulled some roses
for Miss Anne. I 've got them inside. You might
take them along. I '11 have to look up Hiram. Come
in." They followed her.

" Here is your money for the milk," said Carington,
'' and very good milk it is."

"My old cow ought to have her share, but she
won't. I guess we none of us know when we get our
fairings. She won't know any more than the rest of
us. Did you walk down, Mr. Carington ? "

"Yes."

" Come by Joe Colkett's ? "

" No ; I took the lower road."

"He was here yesterday. You would n't guess in
a week of Sundays what for. He wants to put a
wooden slab over those poor children, — just to please

f't

'li''^

■W

n,
A

fl'

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292

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ABE GREEN

I ^ n

that hag. And he asked me to print it for hira, — I
mean, what will do for the inscription. I tell you I
was puzzled. I want you to see if it is all right. He
can't read a word. You see, he means to copy it,
and then to please the woman with it."

" How sad that is ! " said Rose. ''And he really
cares for her?"

'' I should think he did I That 's the worst of it."

"The worst of it? Why?"

"Oh, she is n't a woman to keep a man straight.
She 'd have to begin with herself, way back, too."
Then she added, "Who was the woman Macbeth, —
Lady Macbeth?^

" One of Shakspere's characters," said Carington.

" I should like well to read about her."

"She 'p'inted' her man wrong, I can tell you,"
laughed Rose. " I can lend you the book."

" Now, can you ? Don't forget. There 's the writ-
ing. I am rather proud of it." They both consid-
ered it gravely.

" You might put in the dates."

" Joe says ' no.' I guess he thinks it will make too
much work."

" How strange ! " said Rose. "And the text is, * Of
such are the kingdom of heaven.' "

" Yes. How will that do ? " said Dorothy. " They
were a queer lot, those children, — perfect little fiends,
I called them ; but I suppose there 's going to be a
pretty well mixed up party in that other world.
Think I 'd like to choose my mansion. It would n't
be the nursery. Sakes alive! what was I saying?"
Her face became grave, with a look of yearning ten-

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

203

*''i!

him, — I

sll you 1

rlit. He

copy it,

lie really

,t of it."

straight,
ack, too."
[acbeth, —

rington.

tell you,"
►k."

's the writ-
)th consid-

11 make too

text is, ' Of

hy. "They
little fiends,
(ing to be a
ther world.
It would n't
J I saying?"
earning ten-

derness in her eyes. " Miss Rose, I ought n't to have
said that. There would be the very place I should
go for first ; and only to think T might not get in !
Where woulO I be then? I tell you, Miss Rose,
you 've got to begin pretty early with your tongue,
if you want to make it keep aU the commandments."

Carington smiled. "I fancy dumb folks are as
bad sinners as we. After all, one slanders the
tongue. One does not know half how naughty a
thought is until we have put it into speech."

" Lord 1 Mr. Carington ! There 's a heap of wise-
ness in that you said. Guess I '11 be set up about
talking af ler that ! "

Here she took up her half-dozen roses, nourieined
with care on the south end of the cabin, which Dor-
othy had whitewashed to get more heat upon the
scanty children of her garden. She considered them
with affectionate care, touching a leaf here and there,
her head on one side.

" I guess they 're nice enough, even for Miss Anne.
Mind, there 's six of 'em. Don't you lose any, Miss
Rose ! "

" Shall I carry them ? " said Carington. "And the
basket? Where is it?"

" Oh, I '11 smudge that a bit to get the fish smell
out, and I '11 fetch it to-morrow. I 'm coming after
Mrs. Macbeth, or whatever her name is. No, Miss
Rose is to take the bouquet. They 're sort of rela-
tions, you see. Men can't be trusted with flowers,
and roses are scarce up here."

" Vou might 'p'int' me, Mrs. Maybrook," said Caring-
ton, laughing, as he followed Rose at a little distance.

19*

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204 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ABE GREEN

" Reckon I 'hi too old." And sho stayed in tlio
doorway of lier poor little home, kindly, by no ineaim
unhappy, and giving the benediction of a Hniile to
these two people in their youth of health and proB-
perity and love. " I guess ho 's p'inted already," she
said, as she stood.

Roue turned at the wood-skirts, and nodded good-by.
The parable of the roses had been by no metins meant
as such, but neither the maid nor the man at her
side failed to capture the possibilities of its meaning.
They walked on in silence for a while, she with a
faint hope that her companion had not beei as ap-
prehensive as she, and he, a little amused, and with a
not unpleasiug impression as to the slight embarrass-
ment which, despite her training. Rose had betrayed
when their eyes met a moment while Dorothy was
speaking.

" How silent we are. Miss Lyndsay ! " ho said at
last. He might have taken it as a sign of their grow-
ing intimacy.

*' And do you object to that ? I like it sometimes.
I like that about the well-bred English. They talk or
not, as they want to. We seem to think it socially
criminal to keep quiet. I like to feel free to talk or
not to talk."

"And are you not ? "

" Yes," she said, and then felt that the little mono-
svllable was more or less an admission, and so there
was a yet longer silence. But one may be silent too
long, and Rose spoke :

" What you said to Dorothy made me think of a
quotation with which Aunt Anne puzzled us last

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AttE GKEEN 205

. in tho

meauH
Hiiiilo to
lul proB-
idy," she

good-by.
118 meant
,u at her
meaning.
10 with u
lei as ap-
,nd with a
iTnbarrass-

1 betrayed
rothy was

lie said at
iheir grow-

sometiraes.

hey talk or
it socially
to talk or

little mono-
nd so there
(G silent too

3 think of a
zled ns last

night. Her quotations and my dear papa'.s Marc.
Aurelius wo are always doubtful about,"

"What was it! »

" * Ho who spoaketh out tho evil of his soul is at
the gate of wisdom.' She declined to explain it, and
vowed it was out of a Ilindostanoe poem ; but as to
this you need never quite trust Aunt Anne. I was on
the point of quoting it just now, but did not, because
I fancied Dorothy might not understand it."

''Do you?"

" No," she lauglied ; " not I."

" Sh(^ w(mld have been sure to say something droll.
I wish you had (juoted it. I am glad you do not
understand it. I do not. It might have several
meanings. But I don't like vagueness in prose or
verse. If the thought is worth stating, I think it
must be worth the trouble of stating it clearly."

" Pardy — I mean papa — insists that vagueness of
language always means mistiness of thinking."

"I hardly go that far. There are many explana-
tions of the vague in statement. A man may think
with decisive sharpness of result, and be quite unable
to word his conclusions. But we are in deep waters."

" Quite too deep. As to quotations, I like to think
with Aunt Anne that they are all in tho dictionary,
and so cease to bother myself with the source."

"Assuredly that saves trouble. Ah, here is the
river," he said. "Am I not to have a rose ? "

" Is that a quotation, Mr. Carington ? " and she
laughed. " That is silly enough for ball-room talk."

" It has been said pretty often, and at all events is
not vague."

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296 WHEN ALL THE WOODS AUE GREEN

" I am not sure men ought ever to have roses," she
cried, gaily j " but, as I am not sure, here is one. I
will not act on my vagueness."

" Thank you." He held it a moment, and then
quietly dropped it into the pocket of his jacket, not
unperceived by Rose.

"Ah, here is my boat," she said; "good-by." As
they stood on the bank, she looked hastily over at
the cabin and saw no one in sight. Then she stepped
into the canoe, where Polycarp sat in tranquil pa-
tience, and the young man, lifting his cap, walked
away into the woods.

Gay comrade thoughts and fancies went with him
on the way, and, light of heart, he guided himself by
the yellow lanes of sunshine which lit the open forest
before him. Soon he found the lower road, and, still
smiling, moved on more slowly, and took to building
castles on those great estates in Spain to which he
had just fallen heir.

" Seen my cow, Mr. Carington ? " isaid a voice, a
few feet behind him, and the sweet prosperity of
fancy was gone. It v»'as Susan Colkett who spoke.
He started. He had heard no step, as she came out
of the wood, although she must have been very near.

" No ; I saw no cow. Is yours astray ? "

" Yes. What time might it be ? "

" Six o'clock," he replied, looking at his watch.

" Do you think to come up here in September, sir ?
Joe says caribou 's plenty up the river."

Then Carington recalled Mr. Lyndsay's warning,
and said, " It is hard to say as yet. Most likely I
shall not."

>ses," she
i one. I

md then
cket, not

by." As
• over at
) stepped
iquil pa-
, walked

jvith him
imself by
en forest
and, still
building
which he

voice, a
perity of
LO spoke.
Bame out
ery near.

itch,
iber, sir?

warning,
; likely I

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 297

"I did hear there 's bears back 'o the pond. If
you was minded to go after 'em, Joe he 'd like to
guide. There ain't no better hunter."

" I '11 see about it. If I want him, I shall let him
know. Good night." And he left her.

After walking some thirty yards he looked back.
The woman was standing in the road, tall, angular,
and large, a long crooked stick in her hand. She
was watching him, but instantly moved as she
caught his glance.

" Confound it," he muttered, " if I believed in the
evil eye, and were a good Catholic, I should cross
myself."

Then he tried to think again of Rose Lyndsay, but,
failing to command the return of his broken day-
dream, he went on more swiftly, and once or twice
turned again, with inexplicable unease, to look back
to where he had seen the figure of the woman set
against the darkening greenwood. "Pshaw!" he
exclaimed.

If i I

>fi v^

If.'-

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' -Ml

mmm

I I

CHAPTER XXIII

! HEN on her return Rose went into
their cabin she happened to glance
at the clock. Then she said :

" What time is youi* watch, Aunt
Anne ? " Being told, and discover-
ing that the two timekeepers were
unanimous in opinion, she smiled a little, and went
on into her own room. Here she went straight to
the small mirror and — why, who shall say? — in-
spected herself briefly, saying, aloud:

"You were a rather big fool, to-day. Miss Lynd-
say, and next time you will have your own watch."
Presently, remembering what he had done with the
rose, she concluded that men were hateful. She had
seen a good deal of the world, and had had her full
share of earnest admiration at home and abroad, so
that she was by no means ignorant as to the cause of
the gentle tumult in her bosom. She wanted to wish
that this man would let her alone, and be but a
friendly and pleasant companion. Also she more
sincerely desired that the race of bears had been
omitted from Noah's menagerie.

At last she made her toilet, and went out to dinner,
where Dick asked, with cruel promptness, why she
had not brought that big Boston man over to dine.

298

(rent into
to glance
id:

teh, Aunt
discover-
pers were
and went
;raight to
say?— iu-

iss Lynd-
n watch."
3 with the
She had
d her full
ibroad, so
e cause of
id to wish
be but a
she more
had been

to dinner,
why she
to dine.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

299

" Because I did not ask him."

"That's not a reason, Rosy," said Ned. "I wish
he had come."

"And I don't," remarked Jack.

" Why not ? " said Lyndsay, coldly.

Jack flushed as he caught Anne's eye. " Oh, you
can't like everybody."

Anne said, in a quiet aside, " Jackey, your giants
are not all dead," and he was sUent.

" Mr. Carington was at Dorothy's when I got there.
He came to pay for the milk they get. By the way,
papa, he told me to say that on Thursday he had to
go to Mackenzie, and that he would call as he went
by and get the draft j'^ou wanted cashed, and please
to leave word how you wanted it. Oh, I forgot, he
said afterward that you could tell him to-morrow
night ; and, Pardy, he wants you to let Jack go with
him on Friday, to look for a bear they have seen
some distance back of the camp, above the burnt
lands."

Meanwhile Anne was quietly glancing at her niece's
face. Now this proposal was fire-hot embers to
Master Jack.

" Oh, I can't go ! Hang bears ! " he said.

" He did not tell me to tell you, Jack ; but he did
say he had been hard on you, and I think so, too."

And now Anne Lyndsay put on her glasses.

" Well, Jack," said his father, " how is it?"

"Am I to take my rifle, Rose ? "

" Yes, — I think he said so."

" His trust in this family must be large," said
Lyndsay.

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

i ?: I

i i MM

"Do you think I ought to go?" said this young
hypocrite.

" Yes, but don't shoot him ! "

i^.nd now Rose was dreadfully aware of her aunt's
inspection, and made haste to add, with embarrass-
ment more felt than seen, " What a budget ! Oh, I
quite forgot, Aunt Anne, I took your roses into my
room. Dorothy gave them to me for you." As she
spoke she left the table, and, returning, put the flow-
ers by her aunt. " I was to tell you there were only
half a dozen," and here she made a full, though brief,
stop; "but that it was all she had. She seemed to
think it hardly worth while sending so few. You
know how nice she is ; but, dear me, I have made
a speech of congressional length, — and I am so
hungry ! "

In fact she had talked at the last with accelerated
speed, having made, as she well knew, a sad blunder
into undesirable arithmetical verities.

And now Lyndsay said, " It was very kind of Car-
ington. You must be quite exhausted by the carrying
of so many messages ! "

" It is n't all," said Rose ; " Mrs. Maybrook wishes
to borrow the book, Pardy, in which is the history of
Mrs. Macbeth."

" Indeed ! " he returned ; " that is droll," and fell
to thinking.

Then Mrs. Lyndsay said, " You must be very warm,
dear : you look quite overheated."

Here Anne let drop her eye-glasses, and began to
consider the number of her roses, but said nothing.

On Monday, after a most successful day on the

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 301

s young

Ler aunt's

obarrass-

A Oh, I

into my

As she

the flow-

jvere only

igh brief,

;eemed to

ew. You

ive made

1 am so

ccelerated
d blunder

id of Car-
carrying

ok wishes
listory of

" and fell

ery warm,

began to
1 nothing.
a,y on the

river, in which both camps had nearly equal good
luck, the two men from the island came down in the
evening, through a fine moonlight, to the lower
camp. They were now in that easy stage of acquain-
tanceship with the Lyndsays when people begin to
make agreeable discoveries as to other people who
are common friends.

Carington watched his chance and caught Jack
alone.
" You are going with me, I hope ? "
" Yes. Papa says he wants me to go."
Carington was very quick to catch the accent of
lingering discontent.

" By the way," he said, " I was rather sharp on you
the other day. I don't want you to think I thought
you did quite the right thing; but I liked your
pluck, even if it was out of place, and I understood
the temptation. Suppose we forget it all. Bo roady
on Thursday night — pretty late. I shall get back
here by eleven, I hope, and will pick you up. I can
give you a bed and a blanket, and early Friday we
will be off for a day. I can't promise you a bear,
but I think we shall both like ihe tramp."
" I '11 be ready, and I 'm much obliged, too."
Jack was enchanted, and by and by confided to
Rose in a corner his exalted opinion of Mr. Caring-
ton, nor was he altogether satisfied with her " Oh,
yes, he 's quite a nice kind of a man."

"You were to have seen, Mr. EUett, how foolish
we can be," said Rose, as they stood by the door. " I
also promised Mr. Carington that experience."
"And are we not to have it, after all ? "

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302

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

"No. Papa and I had arranged some very neat
situations for your discomfiture ; but papa finally de-
cided that they were too diflicult, or at least needed
some preparation."

*' But I should really like it. I can do a little at it
myself, and Fred used to be a very clever actor.
But, then, he does so many things well. Do you do
many things well % "

"Everything," said the young woman. "We do
everything well here in this family, even to liking
our friends better than other people like their
friends."

" Don't you think our friends' friends are often
great troubles ? I think a fellow's friends ought not
to have any friends. That is, a man's friends should
not be the friends of his friends. That would n't be
so bad now, would it, if it was n't a bit mixed % "

Hearing Rose's merriment, as poor Ellett endea-
vored to untangle his sentence, Anne and Carington
turned to join them.

" What is the fun, Oliver % " said Carington.

"I 've made an overrun," said Ellett. "When I
try to talk too fast, I am very apt to do it."

"And what is an ' overrun ' % " asked Anne
Lyndsay.

" When you are casting for striped bass, the reel
runs very easy, and the bait is heavy, and if you
don't check the reel with a thumb, as the line runs
out, and then stop it as the bait drops on the sea, the
reel runs on, and the line gets into a tangle, such as
is really unimaginable. It takes hours to get it clear.
Hence EUett's comparison."

^erv neat
inally de-
st needed

little at it
;ev actor.
)o you do

"We do

to liking

like their

are often
oil gilt not

ads should

ould n't be

sed?"

lett endea-
Carington

con.
"When I

ked Anne

Lss, the reel
and if you
e line runs
the sea, the
arle, such as
get it clear.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 303

" That is a noble idea," cried Miss Anne. "An in-
tellectual overrun ! "

" You see," said EUett, much pleased, " everything
is underneath that ought to be on top, and the inside
of the line gets snarled in loops of the outside, and
there 's a sidewise tangle, and — "

"Would n't it be advisable to stop at this point?"
said Fred.

"Should n't wonder." And he reflected upon the
excellence of his comparison.

The night was clear and pleasant, and, as they
talked, they went out and sat ou the porch, where
presently Lyndsay joined the group.

"Miss Lyndsay," said Carington, "tells us you
gave up the plots. I am not too sorry. Hov do you
play the game ! "

"Oh, two or three of us devise situations, and
when we announce them, the others act them. It is
an Italian game, I believe, and quite amusing. You
may treat the situations seriously or lightly. It is
easiest to keep to the key-note on which you start,
and not try too hard to be funny. Puns and quib-
bles, coming in of a sudden, disturb the other actor,
unless he be well used to it."

" I never pun," said Anne ; " but to be forbidden I
regard as an invasion of human rights."

" Oh, they are not forbidden ! "

" Then they should be, except to Wendell Holmes.
Only the worst puns are endurable. When Alice
Fox told Dr. North his horse ' Roland ' was well
named, because he was to carry good news to Aix, I
considered that the climax of verbal murder."

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304

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" No, there is a worse one," cried Rose ; " but that
I shall never, never tell."

" Pardon me," said Carington, " was not Mrs. Fox
that delightful widow with the pleasant name, — I re-
call it now, ' Westerley,' Mrs. Westerley ? There was
some queer story about her wanting to marry a
country doctor who came to grief, or did some queer
things, I forget what."

" Yes ; she married Colonel Fox, at last."

" Married once," said Lyndsay, " engaged once, and
at last lucky enough to capture that fine fellow.
How many love-affairs she had in between — who
shall say ? "

"And a sweeter, better woman never w as," returned
Anne. *'I could explain her life; but I have no
mind to betray the secrets of my sex."

" She attained wisdom at last," said Lyndsay, " for
I heard her tell Fox once that married men should
have every year one month for a bachelor honey-
moon."

As they laughed, Mrs. Lyndsay, who had just come
onto the porch, said, '^That is like her; but I do
think it is only an echo of the discontent with our
decent, old-fashioned notions as to marriage. I hope.
Rose — " and here Mrs. Lyndsay stopped short. Anne
looked up.

"The recipe seems to work well. They are very
happy. I propose some day to start a company to
insure the permanency of the married state. It
ought to pay. They insure everything nowadays,
from boilers to window-glass," she added.

"That 's so," said Ellett. " Now, the interviews of

I i

N
but that

Mrs. Fox
ae,— Ire-
rhere was
marry a
Dme queer

[ once, and
ne fellow,
reen — who

}," returned
I have no

adsay, '* tor
men should
elor honey-

,d just come
but I do
nt with our
ige. I hope,
ihort. Anne

ley are very
company to
id state. It

b nowadays,

1.
interviews of

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

305

the examiner of that company with the young
couples would n't be a bad situation to play."

^' Admirable," laughed Lyndsay.

" But don't you want to hear our plots 1 You will
see what you have escaped."

" By aU means," replied Carington.

" Well, here is one. Mr. Sludge, the medium, calls
up Shakspere to ask if he wrote Bacon's essays."

" If that is a specimen," cried Carington, " I still less
regret. The probability of Shakspere having been in
Bacon's pay as essayist strikes me as a delightful
alternation to put into the Shakspere discussion."

" It is a trifle tough," said Anne. " I should like
to ask for it at the next spiritual skince. I myself
am strongly of the opinion that Queen Elizabeth
wrote Shakspere's plays. Just turn some of her cor-
respondence with James into blank verse, and see
how dramatic it is, and how humorous."

" Repeat some of it for Mr. Carington, aunt," said
Rose. " It is reaUy interesting."

" Certainly, if I can recall it. Ah, here is one. I
have made but little change in her words, — hardly

anv:

' I praise God that you uphold ever a regal rule.
Since God then hath made kings,
Lot them not unmake their authority.
Let little rivers and small brooks acknowledge
Their spring, and flow no further than their banks.'

"There is another:

'Else laws resemble cobwebs, whence great bees
Get out by breaking, and small flies stick fast
For weakness.'
20

)

y^' <

Ml i
In,

*:{

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306

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" I like this one," said Miss Anne :

"'For thoy be. actions rather, and not words,
Whiuh paint out kings and truly iu their colors.
Tliere be so many viewers of their facts
That their disorders (do) permit no shade,
Nor will abide excuses.'"

" Oh," cried Carington, '' that last is like Tennyson.
*■ The fierce light that breaks upon a throne.' Is
there more?"

"Tell us," said Rose, "the one about a treaty —
she ' mislikes,' I think that is what she says. I liked
that one."

" I think I can :

' Touching an instrument you 'd have me sign,
I do assure you, though I play on some,
And have been brought up to know musick well,
Yet this discord would be of gi'oss account,
Such as for well-tuned musick were not fit.
Go teach your new raw counsellors better manners
Than to advise you such a paring off
Of ample meanings.'"

"How pleasantly that takes one back to Hamlet
and the pipe ! " said Lyndsay. " It ought to settle the
question of authorship."

" I begin to agree with you, Miss Anne," said Ellett.

"Don't forget to ask your medium about Queen
Bess, aunty," cried Rose.

"I? Indeed I shall."

" Have you any belief in that business of spiritual
manifestations, Mr. Lyndsay?" asked Carington.

"None. Not I. It is one mass of self-deceit and
fraud. I have seen too much of it."

I I

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GKEEN

307

naiinors

" I have a strong belief in the circulating uiediiiin,"
cried Anue. " It seems rather essential as a means of
inspiring the other mediums. But what are the rest
of your situations, Archie ? "

' Oh, there is one more Shaksporian situation."

'^ Well."

**Mr. Shakspere appears at midnight in Mr.
Browning's study and asks what the mischief he
means by — "

" For shame, Pardy ! " broke in Rose ; " we won't
hear any more. They are horrid."

" I guess we are out of it," said Jack. " I 'm
audience."

" Oh, there is one for you. The ghost of a mur-
dered bear appears to Master Jack Ly ndsay and wishes
to know if he can spell * responsibility.' "

'' Good for you, Jack," cried Dick.

" Wait till I catch you to-morrow. Redhead." But
there was much laughter, and Jack felt that on the
whole it was not undesirable for his bear to pass into
the limbo of jokes.

^* And now, boys, be off with you and dream over
that last situation. Good night," and they trooped
away, merry, to their tent on the cliff.

"Jack is a very good actor," said Lyndsay; "but
children are apt to be fairly good actors and then to
lose the gift. Ned is even better. The boys are fond
of charades, and what we like best is to take the
names of poets from Chaucer to Crabbe, — we have
pretty well exhausted the list."

" I have seen in France," said EUett, " a harder game
than your plots. Two or three scenes are allowed.

lit'!'

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30b

WHEN ALL TU£ WOODS aUE GREEN

and what each Ih to include is stated. Then the actors
endeavor to go through with eacli act so us to fulfil
its dramatic purpose."

" I trust," said Mrs. Lyndsay. " no one will intro-
duce that game."

" It would be charming," cried Rose.

'' Come in, Archie,'' said Mrs. Lyndsay, " and let us
have our piquet. Anno and Rose will furnish quite
as much talk as will suffice. I must have my revenge."

"Certainly, my dear,'' and he went in with his
wife.

" Some time we must really try those plots," said
Rose. " Papa is too fond of the difficult ones. Inuig-
ine Hamlet furnishing evidence to the Psychical
Society about his father's ghost!"

" Does any one believe in ghosts nowadays ? " asked
EUett.

'' Pardy does, — look ! " she said, laughing, and i)oiiit-
ing through the open window. Lyndsay was push-
ing off from a b ning candle the tall spikes of wax
which stood unmelted on one side. " Wo are laugh-
ing at you, papa," she cried.

" Are you ? " he said, turning from his game. " I
can't stand a ghost in the candle: it is another relic of
my Scotch education, Mr. Carington. It is bad luck
to have a ghost on the candle. I have lost the belief,
but the habit remains."

" I fancy we all keep some of these little pet super-
stitions," said Carington.

"I assure you, we are rather proud of ours," re-
turned Anne.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GUEEN

IJOJ)

10 actors
to fulfil

ill intro-

md let us

lisli quite

revenge."

with his

lots," sftid
38. Iniag-
Psycliical

ysT' asked

and poiut-
|was pusli-
kes of wax
are laugh-
game. " I
;her relic of
is bad luck
; the belief,

} pet super-
f ours," re-

The chat went on, grave and gay by turns, and at
hist Lyndsay came back, saying:

'' I retire after a sad defeat."

** My papa plays cards abominably, Mr. Garingtou.
He writes verses better."

" Rose 1 Rose ! None of that nonsense."

" The fact is, when wo were talking about the cha-
rades of poots' names, I meant to repeat the endings
papa made for some of them, but, when I mentioned
it to him, he shook his head like a China mandarin,
and I weakly gave up. Ho is doing it now," and she
laughed. " Oh, I am even with you at last, Pardy, be-
cause you left nu) yesterday in thf. anguish of uugrati-
fted curiosity. This is my vengeance."

" It is incomplete," said Carington.

"Blush, Pardy, but tell us the verses." Lyndsay
declared that the verse was hardly worth a fight.

" I can recall only two," he said. '' Hero is one :

The fight WHH lost. On hill and glen
Thick lay the ranks of fallen iiitm ;
And sullen through the narrow gorge
Went back the standard of St. George.
Then in the saddle rose the 'Squire,
And shook his pennoned spear on high,
And called his broken band again,
And taught them how to die,
And won a name, and little knew
That where his country's banner flew
By hill or dale, on ocean blue.
In centuries to come,
That name the lifted pennon won
Should live as deathless as the sun.

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310

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

"Of course these words were meant only for the
children," said Rose ; " I like this better :

! ;!

' '.

i 1

ill'

A Smith who beat the gold of soiig

To voices pleasant, sweet and strong:

What royal jewelries ho wrought

With simple words and kindly thought!

A cureless, foolish, wasteful soul,

Too fond, alas, of pipe and bowl ;

Vain of his looks, his waistcoat's sot.

Oppressed with duns, o'erwhelmed with debt.

Crushed with distasteful Grub Street work,

The friend of Reynolds and of Burke,

He smiling bore the gibes of Johnson,

And loitered in the shop of Tonson ;

And well or ill, or drunk or sober,

111 youth or age's drear October

Went smiling, jesting, laughing through.

If friends were false or friends were true.

And fared he well, or fared he ill,

Left but kind words to greet us still,

And modest humor's gentlest play,

That bids no maiden turn away,

And many a cool, clear, ringing line,

Still heard through all those noisy years,

And wholesome as a wayside spring,

And sweet with smiles, or sad with tears."

" That is really a nice bit of character-sketching,"
said Carington, as he rose. '' We must try the post-
poned plots some other time."

" I think my father and you and Mr. EUett could
manage the ghost scene."

" Perhaps we may have a chan(:3 next winter," he
returned. " I have a bridge to build near your good
city, and shall certainly see you all as I go and come."

;en

ily for the

h debt,
work,

true.

sars,

iears.'

r-sketcliing,"
try the post-

EUett couki

t winter," he
ar your good
fo and come."

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 311

" That we shall be glad of."

voiltrf;" ''it'^ ^y^^^j^y, coming out, " we shall hold
you to It. There is a little old Madeira still left "

Your fellows in the war drank all that would
have been mine," said Cariugton. ''You owe me
principal and interest."

1 " ^T ^^'^l ^^ ^°°^'* ' ^"^^ ^^^^ «^»«» look to see you
also, Mr. EUett," said Rose. ^

" C;ood night." And they went to their boats. As
hey poed away m the night, Carington said to him-
seit. If those railway directors but knew it. I would
pay for the privilege of building their bridge. How-
ever, skew bridges are difficult: it will take a good
while." And he lit his pipe. ^

" What are you thinking over Fred ? "

d:^'aZfp:j""'' ^"°''^^-'-' It suggests a

I M,

;h^

ff^,

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8 -I

CHAPTER XXIV

HERB was somotliiiijt? pitiful to Doi-
otliy ill the eagerness with which
Joe received the inscription, which
she had carefully printed on four
sheets of foolscap basted togjether.
She read it to him, over and over,
that Monday niorninj,', at his request, until he could
repeat it easily.

Before goinji^ home he looked up Hiram, and bor-
rowed a cold chisel and a hammer. When he reached
the wood where he had hidden the stone, he laid it
down, and, without further thought, began to chisel
out the few sad words in which the graver of the city
workman had recorded the fate of Harry Lyndsay.
This was sufficiently easy, as he made rough work of
it, being anxious to get to the more difficult task.

He had reflected a little as to tl'-^ risks of some one
visiting the little burial-grouni! ;: (he river, but, as
those he knew thereabouts did not trouble themselves
to visit the graves of their dead, it did not occur to
him that these city-folks would be any more likely to
do so. Nor was it any more probable that, far away
in the depth of the forest, anybody who was inter-
ested would ever come upon the burial-place of Susan's
children.

312

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN 313

i vs.

" Would n't know uothin' if they did," he said to
himself, as he went on with great eare to inai'k with a
burned stick the plaeefor the lettering, which he began
now to chisel on the smooth reverse of the marble.

It was a hard job, but Joe, like most lumbermen,
was very skilful with tools. He returned after din-
ner, and steadily persevered until the twilight forbade
him to go on. Susan, still in her more pleasant mood,
was satisfied that his absence meant merely the con-
tinuancH^ of the usual labor of accumulating fire- wood
for winter use.

On Tuesday, early, he went back to the unaccus-
tomed task, and all day long hung anxious and sweat-
ing over the stone. Meanwhile Margaret Lyndsay
sat on the porch of the Cliff Camp, reflecting that
soon she must go away and leave her dead to loneli-
ness and the long burial of the winter snows.

On the river Lyudsay was fishing with Anne, and
Dorothy had been over, and taken away, carefully
wr.'ipped in her handkerchief, the drama of "Mrs.
Macbeth."

And still the hammer rang on in the dark wood-
land, until at evening his task was completed. Joe
stood up, straightener' his tired back, and considered
the stone with satisfaction. The work was roughly
done, but suflBciently plain, nor was Joe disposed to
be too critical. At last here was something which
Susie would like.

Pleased with this idea, he brought water from a
forest spring, and sedulously cleared the marble of
the charcoal marks and of the soil of his handling.
As he stood regarding it, he even felt pride in his

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314

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

f ;i

■

' 1

seeming power to read what he had carved, and re-
peated aloud, "Of such are the kingdom of heaven."

It was now late, and with deliberate care, lest his
burden should fall, he heaved the slab on his back, and
set off across the forest, limping as he went. When he
reached the three small mounds in the clearing, he
laid it down with care, and, after some deliberation,
dug a hole and set the stone at the head of the mid-
dle grave. Having thus completed his task, he wiped
his wet brow on his sleeve, and sat down on a stump,
with his pipe in his mouth.

He intended to let the night go by, and, after
breakfast next day, to take his wife to the wood,
and surprise her with what he had done for her.
He would tell her he had a secret ; he would say it
was something she would want to have done. But
he would not tell her what it was. He was like a
great simple child ; uuthoughtf ul, owned by the min-
ute's mood or need, not immoral, merely without any
recognized rule of life.

As he regarded what he had done, he began to
think that to bring her hither at once would be pleas-
ant. He could not wait. The notion brought him
to his feet^ and he soon gathered the material for a
fire, which he placed facing the stone, a few feet from
the graves. The space around was amply cleared, so
that there was no risk. This done, and the pile ready
with birch-bark kindling, which needed only to be
lighted, he turned away and hastened home.

It was now dark. As he entered his cabin he saw
his wife crouched low on a stool before the fire, her
head in her hands, her hair, which was coarse and

■J

ii' '

[, and re-
heaven."

!, lest his

back, and
When he

3aring, he

liberation,

f the mid-

:, he wiped

Q a stump,

and, after
the wood,
le for her.
ould say it
done. But
was like a
by the min-
srithout any

e began to
dd be pleas-
rought him
iterial for a
3W feet from
y cleared, so
le pile ready

only to be
ome.
•abin he saw

the fire, her
s coarse and

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 315

abundant, hanging about her — a comb awry in its
tumbled mass.

He guessed that her mood had changed. She took
no manner of notice of his coming. He moved for-
ward, and, touching her shouldei-, said :

" What 's the matter, Susie ? "

" Matter enough ! " she returned, sharply. " That
lawyer man 's been here, and wanted you. You ain't
never to hand when you 're wanted."

"What is it now?"

" He says we 've got to pay up or git out in Octo-
ber. Guess he got my mind 'bout it. I 'd have
licked him if I 'd been a man. He was n't far from
scared, anyhow."

" That won't help us none," said Joe, with a glim-
mer of good sense. " He '11 be wus 'n ever he was."

" Who cares ? " Then, turning, she set her eyes,
aglow with the firelight, large, red, and evil, on Joe.
" That man Carington was around to-day, asking if
we 'd seen bear-tracks. Bill Sansom told me. He
did n't come here. I did see him yesterday, on the
lower road, a-twiddlin' a gold watch-chain and a-
singin'. What might a big gold watch be worth,
Joe ? I asked him the hour, just to git a look at it."

" Lord, Susie, I don't know."

To this she made no reply. He stood beside her,
shifting his feet unea^5ily.

Of a sudden she got up and caught the man by
the shoulders, and, as she stood, towered over him
a full foot.

"What — what 's the matter, Susie ? " he gasped.

" Git that man up here in September, you fool."

iii'i

310

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

r r

I ;i

T I

Joe looked aside, Dorothy's imperfect warning in
his mind.

" I heerd he 'd give up that notion."

" That 's a lie."

" It ain't ! I swear it ain't no lie. I heerd Michelle
a-sayin' so."

''When was it?"

" I don't rightly remember. I — I could n't do it."

" Git him here, and I 11 do it," she said. " It 's just
to pull a trigger. So." And she snapped her thumb
and finger so as make a sharp click. The blood was
up in splotches of dusky red upon her angular and
sallow face. The man recoiled, more scared at the
woman than at the crime which he lacked power to
conceive of as possible.

" Gosh ! " he cried, " you 're a devil ! "

In an instant she wa§ changed. She had a share of
the singular dramatic power of the abler and more
resolute criminal nature.

" Oh, I 'm just crazy, Joe, what with one thing and
another. Don' t you never mind me." And a smile,
which to another man would have seemed hideous,
disturbed her features with unwont-^d lines. " Might
nothin' ever chance. You and me we '11 have to just
fight along. 'T ain't every man would have stood by
me all along, the way you 've done."

" That 's so," said Joe, relieved. " I '11 work for
you, Susie: don't you go to fear I won't. I was a-
thinkin' you was 'bout downded all along of them
children."

" That 's it, Joe ; you 're better a heap than mo."
She knew, or thought she knew, that if the chance

iill

N
irning in

I Michelle

n't do it."
" It 's just
her thumb
blood was
igulav and
red at the
I power to

i a share of
• and more

e thing and
nd a smile,
ed hideous,
js. "Might
lave to just
,ve stood by

11 work for
I was a-
iig of them

p than me."
the chance

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

317

came she would have the power to compel him into
doing her will. There was strange self-confidence in
her sense of capacity to hurl this child-man into evil-
doing, as one may cast a stone ; and now the notion
possessed her almost continually. How to do it ? how
to bring about the occasion ? how to escape conse-
quences ? The craving for this thing to become pos-
sible grew as the days went by. Nor is this abiding
temptation rare in minds of her class. I have said that
it possessed her, and the phrase suffices to describe her
condition. The idea of crime owned her as a master
owns a slave. It was a fierce and a powerful nature
which poor Joe had taken to his unchanging heart.

" I knowed it was the children. You won't never
talk so again ? Just you come with me ; I 've got
something '11 surprise you."

" What 's that, Joe ? " She was just now intent on
quieting his fears. " Do tell me."

" No ! You come along. Looks like rain a bit.''

"Well, I '11 go." She threw her hair aside, and
went out with him, saying, "You are a queer old man ;
I guess I 'm right curious." Well pleased, he went
along, the woman following.

By and by they came into the open space around
which the underbrush grew so close that it would have
puzzled one unused to the way to find it.

" You just stand there a bit," — and, as he spoke, he
bent over the ready pile, — " and don't look yet," he
added.

" What 's that white thing ? " The night was dark,
and, in the forest, of inky blackness, because of the
coming storm.

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318

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AliE GREEN

" You wait," he repeated. " Don't you look yet."

He struck a match on his corduroys, and lighted the
birch-bark shavings. Instantly a red light leaped up,
and in a moment the flame soared high, flaring in
the gusts of wind, so that the tall pines cast all
around wild lengths of shivering shadows, and the
forest became as day; while the white oblong of
stone came sharply out into view.

" I done it," he said. " I done it for you, Susie !
I done it."

The woman came near, and, saying no words, fell
on her knees to see it better.

" You did that, Joe ? " and she looked up.

" I did ! "

" There 's letters on it. I can't spell them rightly."

" Dory she made them on paper. She won't know.
I told her it was for a board I was thinkin' to set up.
There don't no one come here."

" It 's a stone ! a real tombstone, Joe ! "

"Yes, it's that."

"What 'son it?"

" I learned it," he said. " It just says :

^HERE LIE THE BODIES

SUSAN FAIRLAMB,

PETER FAIRlAmB,

ISAIAH FAIRLAMB,

CHILDREN OF
SUSAN PAIRLAJMB.'

I left out Pete Pairlamb. Seems right, don't it?"
he added, noticing her silence.

k yet."
;hted the
saped up,
lariug in
; cast all
, and the
)hlong of

m, Susie !

(vords, fell

m rightly."
ron't know,
i' to set up.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE CJKEEN

319

). don't it?"

" There is n't anythiug about when they was born
and died. Any fool would have guessed it ought to
have that."

Joe's face fell. After all, he had failed to satisfy
her entirely.

" I done my best. Guess my back 's achiu' yet
with heftin' that stone."

'* Where did you fetch it ? " she said, looking up.

'' I took it out of the graveyard, up-river."

*'Why can't you say you stole it? It 's them
Lyndsays'." As she spoke the dominant idea which
she had so long nurtured rose anew into power.
" Well, I did n't think you was that much of a man,
Joe." She felt that he had taken a downward step.
'' You stole it ! " she repeated. " You need n't be
afraid to tell me."

The words " stole it " disturbed him.

'^ I stole it ! " he repeated, mechanically.

" I don't like it any the worse for that. What 's
that last line? Did you say all of it?"

" That 's what Dory said was to be put under the
rest. It made a lot more work ; but Dory she said
they most alius done it like that."

" What is it ? " said the woman. " I don't make it
out."

He hesitated a moment. '" ' Of such ' — that 's it j
most clean forgot it : 'Of such are the kingdom of
heaven.' "

As he spoke the drops began to fall. Then an
intolerable blaze of orange light flooded the forest
with momentary noonday, and, without interval, the
thunder, followed by a deluge of rain, and struck

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320

WHEN ALL THK VVOODH AKK UUEEN

liither and tliithei' by tlio hills, died awuy reverber-
ant in the distanee.

" Jerusalem ! That was a near one ! Ain't it a-
rainin' ! "

As the lightning fell the woman threw up her arms
where she knelt and staggered to her feet. " Come
along," she eried ; and, as she moved swiftly before
him in a mighty downfall of rain, she said, over and
over, " ' Of such are the kingdom of heaven ' ; 'of such
are the kingdom of heaven ! ' "

When they reached home, she sat down by the fire,
as if unconscious of her soaked garments, until Joe,
(!()ming in from the cow-house, said :

"You 'd best be gettin' on dry clothes, Susie.
You '11 take your death of cold."

" I 'd like them Lyndsays to miss that stone, Joe."

*' I hope they won't," he returned. " They ain't never
been nothin' but good to folks hereabouts. I 'd not of
took it happen there was another ; and I would n't
Iiave done it for no other woman."

'^ It was a brave job, Joe, and I '11 never forget it. I
wish them other things had been set on it — when
they was born and died. It 's only them ri(;h people
has things complete. Maybe you done the best you
could."

" That 's so," he returned.

CHAPTER XXV

I ;, I

ON Wednesday morninj?, Anne Lynd-
say woke up with wluit her brother
called one of the acute attacrks of
curiosity in regard to Mrs. May-
brook. They were subject to vari-
ations and accompaniments. She
shared with her friend, Dr. North, the fancy for imag-
ining what certain persons, real or unreal, VNould do
under circumstances which she contrived for them.
It was the byplay of a restless intellect. Lyndsay,
who was in his professional work keenly logical, had at
times no patience with Anne's amusing nonsense. He
labeled it " mental vagabondage" or " mind gossip."

She was just now outside in her hammock, enjoying
the wonderful weather of a Canadian river in mid-
June. She was also busy considering Dorothy May-
brook in a variety of new social surroundings ; as to
what she would say or do in a drawing-room, or if of
a sudden dropped into a seat at a Boston dinner-
party, between Emerson and Wendell Holmes. And
then she laughed aloud in her satisfaction at reseat-
ing her between Polonhis and Mercntio.

"What amuses you?" said Lyndsay, as he came
out of the cabin with his beloved " Marcus Aurelius,"
a finger in between the leaves. " What, no book ? "

21 321

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GUEEN

She rt'lntcd ^aily lier occupation.

'' Upon my word, Anne, I lun untiblo to conceive
wliiit plojiHUJ'e yon can take in such stuff.'' lie was in
one of liis severer moods, when to be merely logical
was alone possible. As Anne said, it was pretty luird
to switch Archie off on a siding. Ho had his own
moods, gay or serious; but for the time they were
despotic, and disabled him temporarily from entering
into those of others.

" My dear Archie," she returned, " you have no
mental charity ; at least, not of a morning. Now, if
I were to ask you, to-night, to imagine Dorothy at
dinner between George the Third and Edgar Poe,
you would just as like as not assist my imagination
with an added pair of wings, and — "

''Very likely," he -''terrupted. "I suppose it is
the result of long lu I came out just now to ask

you how this passage oti-ikes you."

She was at once all interest. " What is it, Archie ? "

" ' Cast away opinion ; thou art saved. Who, then,
hinders thee from casting it away ? ' "

Anne laughed, " Try it," she said. " Cast away
opinions — have none, and you won't be bothered
with the need to trouble yourself with this old
heathen's. I agree with him. Opinions are like
gowns : it is so nice to change them ! I am all the
time giving away mine, and it is delightful to see
how ill they fit other folk." She was, in reality, of
all people, the most definite and clear as to her re-
ligion and her politics.

" I think you never can be serious, Anne. Nobody
holds harder to their beliefs than you do. I can't

WHEN Alili TIIK WOODH ARK OUEEN

IJ'Ji)

iitui^ine what tho old pii^aii incunt. S'lvnd from
wliiit ? '(Just Jiwiiy opinion, and you aro saved.'"

" It is tho salvation of negation, Andiie , pretty
popular in sonjo places. It is not my kind."

" I shall get no help here," said her brother. '^ You
are no easier to eject from a mental mood than I am.
I think I shall give it up and go a-flshing."

" It is my changeless opinion that you are now on
tho track of reason. Th(5 first fish will answer you.
He will be quite on the side of 3Iarcus Aurelius, and
wish he had not had a too definite opinion as to tho
desirability of closer relations with a dusty miller or
Durham ranger. Get to thee fine opinions, but
don't act on them. Thus, thou shalt have the cool
joy of theory, and escape the hot results of its practi-
(!al appli ation."

" On my honor, Anne, you are quite intolerable at
times."

"I am to myself, old fellow. I wish aches were
opinions. The Christian Science idiots say they are.
I would like to exchange aches for opinions."

"Are you not so well to-day?" he said, putting Aure-
lius in his coat-pocket. " You look nnicli better.''

" I am far better than usual," she returned, hastily
lepentant, as usual, of her admission of weakness or
pain. " I am thinking of going over to see Dorothy
this afternoon. It is a great enterprise for me, but I
really cannot bide, as she says."

"Why not?"

" My dear Archie, she took away ' Macbeth ' to
read, yesterday, and I must — I cannot wait. I want
to know what she thinks of it."

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GKEEN

"Indeed I She probably won't think at all. She
will very likely give np at the end of the first scene."

"No, I don't think it. After the witches? No!
She told me you said something about Lady Macbeth ;
why or when, I do not know. It seems to have made
her curious."

"That is rather odd. Does she read much? I
should not think it."

" No, very little, and that is why I want to hear.
The opinions of people who read too much are not
often worth much. But what Dorothy concludes
about Lady Macbeth ought to be entertaining, at
least."

"You can have a canoe, dear, and Tom, after
lunch. Are you quite up to the walk?"

" My legs may give out, but my curiosity will not
— I can assure you of that. I shall take Ned."

" Very good, then. I am to go with Margaret up to
the burying-ground. She wants to see that it is kept
in decent order, and to have a better inclosure made."

"Poor Margaret ! We go away on Saturday — do
we not ? "

" Yes, about noon or later."

" I suppose those Boston men will remain."

" Yes, a week or two."

After this she was silent, and licr brother, leaning
against the door-post, glanced listlessly down the river.
She was seldom silent very long.

"Well, what is it, sister?" He rarely used the
word of relationship.

'■ Have you thought at all, Archie, about — Rose
and Mr. Carington?"

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

325

i'li!

1-1

all. She
5t scene."
js"? No!
Macbeth ;
ave made

iiucli ? I

t, to hear,
h are not
concludes
aining, at

om, after

by will not
ed."

garet up to
t it is kept
lire made."
urday — do

n."

ler, leaning
n the river.

y used the

>out— Rose

"Why should I? Margaret has been pestering
herself about the man. But Rose is a diflScult young
woman, Anne, and there have been so many matri-
monial scares that now I don't trouble myself any
longer."

" Circumstance is a mighty match-maker, Archie."

" But Rose is not, as you know. I sometimes think
she will never marry. She is twenty now."

" Indeed ! I think, Ai'chie, I should like to have a
dictionary of the reasons why women marry men."

He laughed. "The reason is as old as Adam.
They have no one else to marry."

" Oh, he had no embarras de choix," she cried.
" Pity he had not. They are various, I fancy — I
mean the honest causes of interest that lead on to
love. I have always thought that Rose would be
captured by character. In our every-day life it
lacks chance of exhibition, but here, it is, or has
been, different. That man is a strong, effective, de-
cisive person. He has a good deal that is attractive,
and that soft Southern way which our inen lack.
Moreover, he is very good-looking. If you don't
want it to be, take care : I think it is too late."

"Anne!" Her sagacity was very rarely at fault.
He knew it, and was somewhat alarmed. " But I can
do nothing."

" No. I do not know why you should. We know
all about the man and his people. Rose is not a girl
to act in haste."

" Why, then, should we bother about it ? " he said.

" We don't : you will. And Margaret will fuss."

" I am afraid so. Confound the men ! "
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" If Margaret had confounded you with other men
twenty-four years ago, this catastrophe would not
have been imminent to-day. Let us hold her re-
sponsible."

" You have made me very unhappy, Anne. I can't
jest about it."

"Then I can. I think I like him. I wish I had
married myself — I mean, somebody else. Old maids
are married to themselves, and that is the reason why
they have a bad time."

"Do you?"

" Not a bit ! Go a-fishing, and hold your tongue."

Lyndsay uttered a malediction on things in general,
and walked away.

Some time after lunch Anne called Ned, and went
over the river with Tom, who thundered replies to
lier ever-varying range of questions about climate,
lumber, trees, and men. A little later, Margaret and
her husband, who had given up for her his evening
sport, set out up-stream, and the twins were left to the
Indian and a chance at the lower pool.

Anne and the boy climbed up the bank, and went
away into the woodland. Several times, feeling tired,
she sat down on a wayside stump or fallen tree. She
had the peculiar trait of liking to be silent when afoot
or when driving. As soon as she was at rest her
tongue was apt to be set free, and she became, as
usual, a delightful comrade.

Now she began to amuse herself by asking the lf»d
in what age he would like to have lived, and was
pleased that he chose the reign of Elizabeth. Then at
last she talked about Dorothy, and of her life, its

became, as

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 327

hardships, trials, and contentments with what she had,
and, finally, of the woman's interest in " Macbeth "
and her own curiosity as to this. She had the art of
interesting the young in matters usually thought to
be out of their sphere of comprehension.

As she sat, Ned, who was quick to see, noticed that
she became of a sudden silent, and, looking up, saw
that her face was distorted for a moment, and that
she had one hand pressed against her side. He rose,
saying :

" What is the matter. Aunt Anne ? "

" Nothing. Nothing much. I very often have pain,
and sometimes it beats me."

" I am sorry. Can't I do something ? "

" No, dear. It will be better presently. It is bet-
ter now," and she wiped her brow.

" Why do people have pain ? "

" To keep them from eating green apples a second
time."

"That is so, aunty; but you — why do you have
pain ? "

" Peiliaps because my great-grandpapa would eat
green apples. ' The fathers have eaten sour grapes,
and the children's teeth are set on edge.' "

" I don't understand."

" No ! That is an enigma for more than you. I do
not know why I have pain. Having it, I know what
to do with it. I don't know why Christ had pain.
God might have willed to help us in other ways, but
at least I know what to do with the story of that
anguish. If he was, as wo think, a perfect man, Ned,
he must have suffered as only a man who was also

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

more than man could suffer. As he chose his pain to
be, and taught men how to use it, so must I in my
small way."

"And would n't you choose, aunty, just to have no
pain, if you could ? "

" Get thee behind me, little Satan," she laughed.
"If I could make a world without pain, would I
choose ? I don't know. My pain has been a bitter
friend. Come," and she rose. The boy, whose
thoughts and questions were beyond his years,
walked on in silence, now and then glancing at the
woman's face.

"Does no one know, Aunt Anne, why we must
have pain?"

" Only one man knew, Ned, and he suffered and
was silent."

" It seems dreadful, i^.unt Anne."

" Perhaps it only seems : best to think that."

At the cabin -door Dorothy came out smiling, the
little, red pocket-copy of "Macbeth" in her hand.

"Now this is right good of you. Miss Anne," she
said. " Come in. Mrs. Lyndsay was telling me last
week you like a cup of tea a'^iOut sundown. It 's a
bit early, but you might be tired. I 've got the tea
Mrs. Lyndsay sent me last year."

"I would like a cup, Dorothy. How is Hiram?
and the cows ? and the chickens ? and Sambo, the
cat?"

" They 're all well — the whole family."

She set the kettle on the fire, got some bread, cut
it up, and set it with a supply of butter before Ned.

" No good in asking a boy if he is hungry."

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

329

s pain to
; I in my

) have no

laughed.
^ would I
n a bitter
)yj whose
his years,
ling at the

■f we must

iflered and

that."

smiling, the
her hand.
Anne," she
ing me last

)wn. It 's a
got the tea

is Hiram?
Sambo, the

ne bread, cut
before Ned.

Ned laughed. " Jack says it is no use for Dick to
eat : he is just as hungry when he is done as he was
at first."

" • It gi'ows by what it feeds on, like the worm i' the
bud,' " said Anne to herself. " I '11 keep ohat quota-
tion for Archie." And then, aloud, "We old folks
eat from habit. The only appetite I have left is for
books, and — What good tea, Dorothy! Thanks!
Yes, one cup more. My brother says you like coffee
better. I sent to Montreal for a few things you
might like. You will find among them a small bag
of coffee. We think ours excellent."

"And I was just last night a-wondering how I
could get some right good coffee. It 's half chicory
what we get ; and here, in you walk, and I We got it
easy as asking. I have n't said I 'm obliged to you,
but I am. Fact is. Miss Anne, giving comes so nat-
ural to some folks — you might as well thank them
for sneezing. I 'm a bit that way myself. I do just
think being thanked is the hardest part of giving.
If the man in church was to say, ' Thank you,
ma'am,' every time I dropped a sixpence in his bag,
he would n't get another out of me soon."

" I am much of your way of thinking," said Anne.
"But tell me, what about the book? How do you
like it? And why did you want to read it?"

" Mr. Lyndsay happened to say some one was like
that woman, Lady Macbeth. Guess I called her Mrs.
Macbeth."

"And who was the some one ? "

Dorothy hesitated.

" I was telling him a little about Susie Colkett."

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

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" Indeed ! "

"Yes — she 's an evil-minded one."

Anne had no suspicion of the seriousness of the
story Dorothy had confided. to Mr. Lyndsay, and was
somewhat amused at the remoteness of the tragic
comparison. She set the thing aside, and resolved to
ask her brother what he meant. She was now in-
stantly curious as to what effect the drama had had
upon a woman like Dorothy.

" If Susan Colkett is as bad as Ladi/ Macbeth, she
must be an unpleasant neighbor."

"There is n't much to steal here," said Dorothy,
smiling and looking around her ; " and I never did
see the woman I was afraid of. As for Susie, she 's
so bad, she 's — a fool. There would n't be much
harm in it if Joe was n't the worst fool of the two.
She '11 be the losing of that man yet. Two fools can
hatch a heap of mischief."

" He is n't much like Macbeth."

" I don't know that. You were asking about this
book. I don't read books much. I can find out peo-
ple right soon; books — they puzzle me."

" But vou have read it ? "

"Yes, I read it. I read it twice. I sort of set mj^-
self to believe it the second time. There 's a heap I
did n't understand."

'' And Lady 3Tacbethf"

" She was a queer one. All that howling and a-
carrying on of the witch-women, it 's just nonsense.
I got the idea those witches set it up to tell the man
he was to be a king : that 's straight, is n't it ? "

"Yes."

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

331

* 1:"

5S of the
, and was
he tragic
isolved to
5 now in-
i had had

icheth, she

L Dorothy,
never did
usie, she 's
t be much
3f the two.
o fools can

about this
nd out peo-

of set my-
t 's a heap I

ling and a-
nonsense.
ell the man

titr'

'"T is n't wholesome to get notions; they stick
like bur-ticks. I knew a girl down at MarysviUe, in
Georgia, and an old black woman told her, for her
fortune, she was to marry a thin man with heaps of
money, and the fool was so awful took with this that
she told her beau. He was a direful stout man.
Well, when she would n't have him, he went off and
tried to starve himself thin ; and the end was he fell
away and died, and that girl, she never got another
beau, fat or thin."

Ned and his aunt laughed.

"Well, what else, Dorothy?"

" That 's about all I have to sav. That Macbeth
woman understood p'iutin' her man."

"She did, indeed."

"Sometimes Hiram gets tired of being p'inted.
That 's how men are : they have n't got the natural
goodness of women. I would n't give a cent for the
woman that don't know n man has got to be kept
p'inted on to the narrow way. They 're awful easy
got off the track — just like Hiram: he '11 stop to
pick berries any time. You just take notice how Eve
she p'inted Adam, and it 's been going on ever since,
like it was natural. Maybe 't is."

Anne was enchanted.

" Shall I leave you the book ? "

" No, I don't want it. I could n't stand two of the
kind. Susie Colkett 's enough. Have another cup ? "

" No ; and thank you for the roses, Dorothy."

" I had n't but just six."

" They were lovely." And now Anne was still more
certain how six roses came to be five.

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

"I like them right well, Miss Anne. I don't be-
lieve anybody likes them more than me. Seems like
waste, next month, to see those wild roses so thick all
along the river, and no one so much as to smell them.
Seems just pure waste, like that precious ointment
Mrs. Lyndsay and me were talking about the other
day. That always did puzzle me, that story."

" Does it ? " said Anne. " Perhaps the flowers enjoy
one another — who knows ? And perhaps you and I
and the rest of us are not all the beings of earth.
Why should we, think everything is meant only for
us?"

" Sakes alive ! Miss Anne, but you have got some
queer notions. To think of folks you can't see smell-
ing around among the flowers ! Suppose you was to
bump heads when you were smelling of them. It
gives me the creeps to think of it. Hope I '11 never
run against one of them. Must you go ? "Well, I 'm
right sorry. When you and Mrs. Lyndsay and the
rest go away, my old head will have a long rest."

" Shall I send you some books ? "

"No. I should n't read them. I don't set much
store by books, without I have some one to talk to,
and poor Hiram is as mum as a stone. That 's the
worst of our long winter. Only last night I was
reading the Bible, — I do read that. Miss Anne, — and
I came upon where Christ wrote on the sand. I just
said to myself I would wait about that till I saw you.
I did want to talk it over right away."

" And what is it you want to ask ? "

" What do you suppose Christ wrote in the sand ? "

" Who can tell that, Dorothy ? "

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

^33

.n't Tae-
ms like
hick all
11 them,
intmeut
le other
I)

n-s enjoy
ou and 1
of earth,
only for

got some
see smell-
'ou was to
them. It
I '11 never
Well, I 'm
ay and the
ong rest."

t set much
to talk to,
That 's the
light I was
Anne,— and
and. Ij^ist
11 1 saw you.

" But it must have meant — Why did he do it? "

"I suppose," said Anne, thoughtfully, "that he
wanted to let the woman think over what he had
said. When you think of the eyes of Christ looking
at you, Dorothy, you might understand."

"I see, Miss Anne. That woman she felt awful
bad, I guess, and ho only wanted not to seem to
take notice. I would n't ha' thought of that in a year,
not if I stayed awake all night every night."

"Why not write to me in the winter? I should
like that."

" Would you really ? That would take the edge off
the lonesomeness. If I did n't say * oh ! ' every now
and then, of eveniugs when the green wood cracks
and the sparks fly, I guess I 'd go dumb beforf^ the
birds come back."

" Well, Dorothy, that is settled. I shall write first.
Good-by!" And, with Edward, she moved slowly
away through the broken crosir-lights of the sunset
glow.

';M

>Mr\

the sand r'

CHAPTER XXVI

FTEK two or three weeks in the
forest, where "the slow-growing
trees (^o patience tetwih," and tlie
strong, effortless waters go by and
(^ksyr-z^se^S seem only merry and idle, there
| r^'"'*' ^v'^^^^ffi H comes to some men a sense of being
at home. It does not come at once. We are all .1:'
us, in our busier lives of varied work or pleasure,
actors in ever-changing roles. It can hardly be other-
wise. Almost the simplest lives involve some use of
the art of the actor. In the woods, away from men
and their struggles and ambitions, with the absence
of need to be this or that, as duty, work, or social
claims demand, we lose the resultant state of tension,
of being on guard. It is readily possible to notice
this effect in the rapid erasure from the faces of the
constantly strained, intellectual workman of the lines
of care which mark the features of those on whom, in
one or another position, the world relies to cany its
burdens.

At first, on passing from great mental occupation to
the life of the forest, there is a period of unrest, of
vague disappointment. But soon or late, with repose
of mind, and the cessation of endless claims upon the
sentinel senses, arises a distinct and less explicable

334

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WHEN ALL THE W00D8 ARE GREEN

335

:s in tlie
/^.gvowiuj;
' uud tilt'
TO by aiul
die, there
je of beiiijj;
are all >t'
L* pleasure,
ly be other-
iome use of
r from men
he absence
;, or social
of tension,
e to notice
'aces of the
of the lines
)n whom, in
to carry its

icupation to
►f unrest, of
with repose
lis upon the
s explicable

indifference to what a fortniglit back was important.
Our whole world of relation is j?radujilly chanj^ed.
The passion, strife, and more or less worthy motives of
the great camps of men shrink to valueless dimen-
sions, so that we look back and wonder how this or
that should have caused us a thought, or called forth
that irritability which is apt to be the offspring of
the unceasing strain of modern life.

At last wo lose count of the days, and acquire a
strange impression of the remoteness of the tumult of
the active life from which we hf«,vo fled. So complete
may be this feeling that at times the busy past seems
to fade into dreamy unretdity, as with sense of relief
we give ourselves unresistingly to the wholesome in-
fluence of the woodland and the waters. Much of
this ease of mind must be due to the physical well-
being which this existence surely brings to those who
know how to get out of it the best it holds.

This calm of spirit, and this feeling of perfect full-
ness of bodily health, were what Archibald Lyndsay
unfailingly secured in his summer holiday. He had
become careful to humor the pleasant mood, and to be
annoyed when anything took place which forc^ed him
even for an hour to return to the problems of the
outer world.

Such a summons had come from Anne. She had
not explained why she had spoken, nor could she
have given a reason beyond the fact that she and he
habitually discussed in common all family interests,
and that it was not always quite safe for Anne to talk
of them to Margaret. That gentle little woman was
indisposed to have others, as she said, " come between

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS AUK (iUEEN

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licr and hor children," and was in fact jealous, witli a
steadiness of jealousy which unwillingly accepted oven
love as an excuse, and heard, with unreasoning lack of
logic, explanations, advice, or comment, which another
might have welcomed, or at least calmly considered.
Thus, when Anne wished co influence Margaret, she
was apt to talk to the husband, who, in turn, was
shrewd enough to profit by the counsel without be-
traying the counselor.

Archibald Lyndsay's uneasiness had been extreme
from the time Anne had spoken of Carington. Now
he was in the canoe with his wife, and was being
poled up-stream by the two Indians, who could un-
derstand but little of the rapid speech of the white
man, and before whom, therefore, he could talk at
ease. Lyndsay sat with his back to the bowman, his
wife facinj? him and lying against a pile of cushions.
After a little h<) said, speaking low :

" Margaret, has it occurred to you that possibly all
this unavoidable intimacy between Rose and young
Ciiiington might — well, might result in some serious
attachment, and — "

" Of course," she broke in, with the wife's privilege
of apprehending more than the husband has said,
" of course, any one — "

" My dear Margaret, I wish you would listen until
I have finished — "

"Very well, dear, I will listen. I only meant to
remind you that I have already spoken of this, and
that you said it w^s not of any moment; and that
I v.as too much given to anticipating trouble. The
fact is, Archie, when you are on your holiday, you

m-,

WHEN ALL THE W00D8 AUE UKEEN

337

;urn, was

hato to have anything sorions brought to your mind,
and you aro pretty apt just to put it aside."

Lyndsay, well versed in the flue art of matrimonial
diplonuicy, made no instant reply to this arraignment.

** Perhaps, my good wife, we nuiy ho as to this a
little alike. When you are very full of a subject, or
have decided it in your own mind, you aro inclined
not to hear mo out."

" That may bo so. I beg pardon, Archie. "What
is it ? "

"What was I saying? Wiiere was I? It is like
taking the marker out of a book you are reading."

'* You were saying it might result in a serious
attachment."

'' Yes, that was it ; or something to that eflfect.
Perhaps I should not have been quite so definite.
Yes, that was it. It has seemed to me that Rose is a
girl who would readily be captured by — well, by a
man who had a chance to show force of character,
and this very thing has happened. You know, dear,
in the ordinary chances of life these opportunities
aro rare, but — well, you understand."

She did ; and also she had a suspicion that this bit
of social reflection was somebody else's wisdom.

'' Has Anne mentioned the matter ? "

" I did say something to her about it yesterday —
no, this morning."

" I would much rather, Archie, when you want to
discuss the children, that you come to me first."

Clearly he had brought this on himself. She went
on:

"Anne is ready enough to interfere without being

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338

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

given an excuse, and now, I suppose — She has not
talked to Rose, 1 trust ? "

" No, ray dear. She has not and never will. That
would be very unlike Anne."

" I don't know. One never knows what to expect."

" But you do now. Have you noticed of late how
thin Anne looks ? I sometimes think she will trouble
none of us vei-y long."

" I think you are rather prone to exaggerate about
Anne. She is n't well, but these chronic invalids
outlast the healthy." Margaret had the occasional
hardness of the very tender. "As to Rose, it is as
well to comprehend the matter, and then, as the man
seems unexceptionable, to let Rose alone."

J^rs. Lyndsay's good sense usually kept her at the
end on the ways of reasonable decisions. If she
could always have acted without speaking, she would
have had more credit for wisdom. But acts are rare,
and speech is not; so that people were apt to say,
"Margaret Lyndsay is a very good woman, but not
always very wise." Those who knew her best did
not so think, and especially Lyndsay, who well under-
stood that great goodness cannot coexist with fool-
ishness, because the more valuable goodness must
have intelligence for one parent. There are people
who reflect very little about what they are going to
say, and a great deal about what they are about to do :
of this kind was Lyndsay's wife ; but then, under
some circumstances, words are acts, or have their
force, and so she made mischief occasionally for her-
self and for others.

" I quite agree with you my dear," he replied. "It

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AEE GREEN

339

were best left to Rose's good sense. In the end you
and I are sure enough to agree."

" Perhaps you might give Anne a hint, or — shall
I ? " She was a trifle afraid of her sister-in-law.

"It won't be required. She has quite our own
ideas about it " ; and then Margaret knew that Anne
had fully discussed this question with Lyndsay. She
did not like it, but this time held her tongue.

The sun was low when they drew to the shore, a
little above the point where Joe had left his dugout
two days before. The oblong white box of a church
stood on the upland, a dismal architectural symbol.
Its closed doors and windows, the broken steps at the
entrance, and the ragged, storm-worn paint looked
dreary enough to Lyndsay as he passed with his
wife through the open gateway.

" How hideous it is ! " he said. " Would not you
like it, my dear Margaret, if in the fall I had our
boy brought home to rest among om* own dead ? "

" Very much, Archie."

" It shall be done," he said.

" Thank you." By this time they had picked their
way around the church amidst growth of thistles and
wild raspberry vines. Lyndsay led, and presently
they were in the scantily-peopled half-acre back of
the chapel. He stood a moment, confused.

" I don't see the stone," he said.

"What? What is that?"

He turned, and said again, " I don't see it ! "

Margaret went by him swiftly.

" It was here ! here ! " and, utterly bewildered, she
stood, looking up at her husband, or down at the

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340 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

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grave, and then around her. "Archie ! It is gone !
This is — is horrible."

Lyndsay paused a moment. He was both troubled
and perplexed ; but the intellectual puzzle was upper-
most, and, as usual with him, was merely fed with
motives for action and decisions by the shock of
horror with which the thing affected him. As for
his wife, she looked down again at the trampled
ground and broken flower-stems, and then saying,
" What is it ? "Where is it f " began to go to and fro,
irregularly, among the graves, and along the tumb-
ling stone wall of the inclosure.

At last she ran, like a scared thing, back to her
husband, threw her arms about him, and burst into
violent sobbing.

" Oh, my boy ! my boy ! " she cried. Her face
twitched, and she broke out into unnatural laughter.
Lyndsay caught her as she reeled to and fro.

" Take care, Margaret ! Margaret ! Be quiet. No
more of this ! I command you to control yourself ! "

As he spoke he lifted her slight figure, and carried
her to the gate.

'■' Sit down," he said. " Now, no more of this ! I
want your clearest head — your help."

"Yes, yes, Archie," she said. " I will try. I — oh,
I could n't help it ! Don't scold me."

His eyes filled. " No, dear love, not I. But keep
still. I want to look. This is a mere vulgar, brutal
theft. Wait a moment, can you ? "

" Yes, but don't be long."

He walked back again to the little grave, and care-
fully examined the place. It was broken and battered

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WHEN ALL THE WOOPS ARE GREEN

341

5 gone!

roubled

s upper-

ed witn

hock of
As for

rarapled

saying,

and fro,

ae tumb-

•k to her
lurst into

Her face
laughter.

uiet. No
ourself ! "
id carried

f this ! I
I— oh.

But keep
rar, brutal

and care-
battered

by large footmarks, and these led away toward the
low stone wall, and were lost in the underbrush be-
yond the broken fence-rail on the far side of the un-
used road. He saw that the break in the rail was
rocejit. At last he returned to his wife.

''The grave, dear, is not disturbed. Some fool
has stolen the stone. Come with me ; I wai *; to go
through the drift yonder, and I do not waut to leave
you alone."

She stood up, and followed him around the church,
and back to where he had found the rail broken. "Ah,
here again is a footmark," he said. At the river he
walked along the margin, and at length came upon
the place where a dugout had been drawn up and
where were other footprints in the wet clay margin.

"It is very simple," he said. "We shall soon
know. But why any man should do such a thing I
cannot imagine."

" He ought to be killed," said our quiet Margaret.

"That will do for the present," he said, and then
called to his men to drop down from the landing
where he had left them. In a minute or two they
were at the shore.

"Now, dear," he said, as they came near, "try to
keep this thing a secret for the few days loft us here.
It is an intolerable bit of wickedness, possibly of
malice, but this I do not believe. The more quiet we
can keep it, the better my chance of discovering who
has done it."

" I will try ; but Anne ! "

" Oh, Anne, of course, and Rose perhaps. It is the
men who must not know, and the boys."

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

"That is easier. What shall jou do about it,
Archie? Who could have been so cruel?"

" Unusual crime," he said, thoughtfully, " has com-
monly unusual causes. I do not as yet know what I
shall do. And now, dear, let us not discuss it any
more. And will vou tell Anne, or shall I f "

'' I would prefer to do it myself, Archie."

As the sick animal knows by instinct what wild
grasses it shall eat, this woman apprehended her
need for a woman's strength and sure community of
feeling. She was as certain to fall back on Anne's
opinion or help in the end, or where she herself was
honestly puzzled, as she was to resent her sister-in-
law's independent assertion of her right to have a say
where the question was one as to which Mrs. Lyndsay
thought that the title mother or wife was in itself a
victorious defense of all decisions needed in either
capacity.

In this present trouble it was a woman's help she
wanted. She had been for the first time in her life
close to an hysterical attack. Without the forceful
tonic of her husband's call upon her self-command,
the discipline of years would have been of no avail :
she would have been entirely routed. As it was,
there had been sad disorder in the ranks of the gov-
erning qualities of a being unused to yield to the law-
lessness of unrestrained emotion. This nearness of
defeat was more or less due to the preparative soften-
ing influences with which she came to say a silent
farewell to her dead, and to the suddenness of the
shock of horror and of insult.

None turned to Anne Lyndsay in vain. As Lynd-

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

343

say and his wife approached the cabin, where, as usual,
Anne was lying in her hammock, she saw at once that
something had gone wrong. Her long walk was ex-
acting the sad price of all physical exertion which
took her beyond the limits of the most carefully mea-
sured exercise. She was in great pain, and, for a half
hour, had been resolutely struggling to ignore it by
forcing herself to give deliberate attention to a difficult
passage in the second part of *' Faust." She dropped
her dictionary as they came up, put a marker in the
page she had been reading, and rose on one elbow.

" Go and talk to Anne," said Lyndsay. " Is Rose
still out, sister?"

"Yes; and the boys, except Ned. He is in the
wood, somewhere. I am all alone, Margaret. What
is it, dear ? "

" Something very unpleasant has happened, Anne ;
nothing serious — I mean, no personal calamity. Mar-
garet will explain." And so saying, he went into
the cabin, while Mrs. Lyndsay sat down on a low
stool, and, letting her head fall on Anne's bosom,
began to cry. But this time she had herself well in
hand, and the burst of tears was wholesome, as Anne
instantly knew. She let her hand fall over Margaret's
neck.

" Have it out, dear," she said. " A man always says,
* Don't cry ' ; a woman says, ' Cry ; it will help you.'
Cry as much as you want to. God knew our wants
when he gave us tears. No ; don't try to explain, —
not yet, not yet." And the reassuring hand put back
a stray lock of hair, and rested in tender caress on the
wet cheek.

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

Both were still for a few minutes, save for an occa-
sional sob.

" Now I am better, Anne. I can talk now. How
well you know ! — what is it, clear ? " she added, ab-
ruptly, for a brief exclamation, " Oh, my God ! " broke
from Anne's lips. She was in the extremity of phy-
sical pain. The tone and words were unusual, as com-
ing from these lips, and Margaret, instantly turning
aside from her own trouble, caught the look of suffering
on the other woman's face. She wiped her eyes hastily.

"Are you ill, Anne ? "

" Yes. Oh, not ill ! I had a stitch in my poor
old side." Then she laughed low. " I am sure it is
years older than the rest of me. Get me your smell-
ing-salts."

Margaret got up at once and went into the cabin.
As for Anne, smelling-salts, hot-water bags, sedatives,
and, in fact, the whole armament of the invalid, were
to her altogether unpleasant. But now she was in
some want of a minute to herself. She got it, and
more, for Margaret was some time before she came
out with the smelling-salts and a flask.

"No, dear," said Anne; "no brandy." She used
the smelling-salts, and returned them to her sister-
in-law. "I hate all scented things. I am better
now. Tell me all about it, and don't hurry. What
is it?"

" We went up to my boy's grave, and, Anne, Anne,
some one had trampled it all over — trod on my —
my dead ! "

" Well, dear. Take care ! Don't give way, or you
will go to pieces. There ! What else ? "

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

345

I !^

"And some cruel brute has taken aw ay the tomb-
stone. It was not there. Do you understand ? " she
cried, wi^h fierce energy. "They stole it! It is
gone ! "

Anne understood well enough ; but the fact, as
told her, was so strange, so unlocked for, that she
was amazed for a brief time beyond power of com-
ment. The next moment all her heart went out to
the mother at her side.

" It is horrible ! " she cried. " Oh, for me, even,
for me ! And for you, what must it be ? " She saw,
as few would have done, the broken flower-fence, the
rudely profaned and trampled grave, the gap in the
earth where the stone had been. " For me, horrible —
but, my dear God ! what must it have been for you ! "

" Yes ; I am his mother ! " She was moved because
Anne did not pretend to share the maternal inten-
sity of her feelings. " Only a mother could know.
Archie says I must not think about it; but that is
beyond my power — I must think about it. Who
could have done it ? I can't see any reason in the
theft. Do you think it could have been to annoy us,
or to get a reward ? I — "

" No," said Anne. " Neither."

" Then what could it have been ? There must have
been a motive."

" Yes, there must have been."

"And what ? We are liked, I think, op the river.
We do try to help these people."

''Yes."

" Who could have done it ? "

"JoeColkett!"

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WIIKN ALTi TIIK WOODS AUK UltKEN

"Arcliil)altl ! Amhilmld !" cried Marj^urol, instaiiUy
risiiijij. He va\uy out at once.

'^ What is it?"

"Aiino sjiys C\»lkt!tt took it!"

*' VVhiit docs this iiioiin, Aiiiu^f " ho sjiid.

" Only this : Wosc toUl us ycsttu'day, you rcnionibor,
thatColkett had lu'cu to nvv Dorotliy about nu inscrip-
ti«)u for ji board to sot ovt^r his vvito's chiUb'oii. You
heard her speak of it."

"Yes; but wimt then?"

" That man is the thief ! "

" You art) a most astonishing? wonuui, Anne. What
reason luive ycm? You must have a reason."

" I shall have ; but now, as yet, I have none."

" I am sorry, then. You have (juite upset Mai'j^aret."

" No. I saw the man take it."

" Saw him ? Nonsense — I be^j^ pardon, dear, 1 don't
quite mean that." He was nice always in his home
ways with the wonuni he loved. " I mean that you
have spoken unadvisedly."

" Yes, I had no advice from within or without, for
that matter ; but I know that man is the thief."

" It is a serious charge."

" It is. "When you come to think it over, you will
agree with me."

Lyudsay was silent a moment. Then he called,
"Tom! Tom! I am gohig up to the Island Camp;
put the canoe in the water."

" What are you going to do, Archie ? " asked Mar-
garet.

" I want to talk to Carington. He knows all these
people ; has known them for years."

WIFKN AIJi THK WOODH AltK (JI4KEN ;M7

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"SliuU you toll him what my own belief is?" said
Anno.

"Certainly! Why not?"

" Hut,'' (tx(^laim(;(l Marj^aret, "do you not think — "

" No. No, dear, I don't think at all as yet. I hav(i
no nuiterial for thinking — very litth^, at least," He
spoke with unhabitmil impatienee. " Evidonee is what
w<5 want."

llo was annoyed by this myst(!rious crinH! in the
midst of his idle hours ; troubhfd by his wife's distress;
and finally, if but to a slight extent, irritated at
Anne's uimMisoning dash at a di^eisivo conclusion.
Perhaps he was tlu; nuire disturbed because, on hear-
ing her, he had at once begun to put together facts,
always within his own knowledge, which he felt should
have caused him to liav(? gone, under guidance of
reason, tc.vard the goal whi(;h she had I'catdied at a
bound.

" I shall 1)0 back in three or four hours. Do not
keep the dinner waiting. Good-by."

" But, Archibald, do listen to me. It is not about
— about this — " And she followed him as she spoke,
and, at the edge of the cliff, said a few words hastily,
but with earnestness.

" No," he said, so that Anne heard. " I sec^ — I see,
of course; but there is no help for it; and, after all,
Carington is not a man — " And the rest was lost to
Anne's ear.

"Perhaps not," said Margaret. "I suppose you
know best." And she went back to Anne.

t. '

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■! ,1 I

CHAPTER XXVII

HEN Lyndsay walked up the beaeh
at the Island Camp, it was ah*eady
dark. In the diuuer-tent, on camp-
stools, the two men were gaily dis-
cussing such events as in a fishing
camp are always uppermost — how
this or that salmon behaved, the weather, the water,
or the eternal black-flies.

The cook had just set on the table a dish of broiled
salmon, and said, as he did so :

"There 's a canoe at the beach — Mr. Lyndsay, I
think."

** Come to ask your intentions, Fred," said EUett,
laughing.

" Hush, I hear him coming. I wonder what it is
he wants." As Carington spoke, he threw open the
fly of th(! tent. " Come in, Mr. Lyndsay ; you are
just in time. Bring the soup back, Jim."

" Thanks. How are you, Mr. Ellett ! Yes, I will
dine with you, and with pleasure. No soup, thank
you," and he sat down.

For a while there was the ordinary talk of the
river, and when, finally, they were left with the to-
bacco and cigars, Lyndsay having declined the rye
whisky, he said:

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE OREEN

340

" I came up to get a little help from you. We have
had to-day a very siugular and (luite nnpleasaii in-
cident. There is no one can overliear uh 1 "

" No one. I need hardly say how heartily we are
at your service. Pray go on. May I ask what has
troubled you ? "

"Of course. I came to tell you, and then to ask
your help or advice. You know all these river men ? "

"Almost all, even the lumber-gangs."

"I thought so. I shall be brief. Last year we
buried my youngest child here. I had set up at the
head of the grave a simple white stone. To-day I
went up with Mrs. Lyndsay to see that it was all in
order. To our horror the stone was gone. Of course
my wife was painfully disturbed. The grave was
trampled ; the wild rose-bushes we had set around in
a little thicket were beaten down. That is the whole
story. I am, as you may fancy, greatly annoyed. I
felt that, with your knowledge of the men hereabouts,
you might possibly give me some clue. I owe you
every apology," and he turned to Ellett, " for thrust-
ing so personal a calamity into the hours of a holiday,
but—"

"You could not have found two people more
willing."

"Thank you."

" Let me ask you a few questions," said Carington.

" Of course."

The young man reflected a moment, and then in
quick succession put his queries.

" Have you gone over the place ? "

" Yes." and he told the little he had seen.

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" Was it ft dugout f "

" Yes, I think so."

" I will look to-morrow, early. Were tliuro severul
people ? "

"The foot-marks seometl alike — the usual many-
nailed boot. I did not measure them."

" I will. The beach is clay up there, lias any one
cause to injure you ? "

" No one. My wife has been in usual, all goodness
to these poor people."

" I see no possible motiv(»," said Ellett.

"Wait a bit, Oliver. The grave had not been
opened ? "

" Great Heaven ! No."

*'Why should a man want a tombstone?" said
Ellett. " An insane person might have done it."

"No," returned Carington, thoughtfully. "No,
there are none here. No, some one wanted that stone.
Why ! — by George, I hate to suspect the poor devil ! "

"Who?"

"It is a mere guess, a suspicion. I hnve an idea
that Joe Colkett stole that stone."

"It is a little odd. That, exactly, is my sister's
conclusion."

" Indeed ! "

" Yes. Being a woman, she had no reason to give,
or none worth anything; and yet I myself am enough
inclined to agree with her to want to make sure as to
whether there is any evidence to be had. It is a thing
to punish."

"I think so. The man is in pretty sore straits
about money. But it cannot be any motive involving

WHEN ALL TUK VVOODH AKE GKEEN

351

inonoy, and yot — however, it is useless to talk about
it. The first tiiiujjj is to ^o over the ground with eare.
Let me do that — early to-morrow. Ah, to-day is
Wednesday; I must p^o to Mackenzie to-morrow. That
I can't let wait. A man is to meet mo there about
my cabin. Can tliis thin^ rest a day ? "

" Yes, I shall stay over Sunday. We had meant to
go out on Saturday."

" Then T will call late to-morrow night for your boy
— as we conu^ back, I mean."

'' One moment : I have thought best not to toll the
boys. It can do no good."

" None. On our return toward camp, I will man-
age to send Jack off, and will myself slip down to Col-
kett's, and will look about nie. If necessary, I can
talk it out frankly. I think I could know in Ave min-
utes all the man knows, if he is in the thing at all."

" But you won't forget my warning, Mr. Carington.
Joe is a poor sodden dog, but the woman is a devil."

Carington smiled. " Oh, I shall have my rifle ; and,
after all, what could a woman do ? There is no man-
ner of risk." He did not say that the notion of there
I. )me peril in the matter made the enterprise

..C!Ug

nio: c at 'ractive. There were other motives also which
\7ere -"t disagreeable, and of these, too, he made no
?ne!)f jii.

* vVell, promise me to be on your guard."
''It all seems rather absurd, but I shall keep my
eyes open. I may be very late to-morrow night. Tell
Jack, and, by the way, if it is late, I shall have to
keep your money until Friday evening, or Ellett can
take it to you. Send me the draft to-night."

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352

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

" I have it with me " ; and he handed it across the
table.

"I think," said Carington, "I would ignore the
whole matter until I see you on Friday night. I
would fish, as usual."

"I think so." He had asked advice and help, and
this very decisive young man had certainly given it.
" Thank you a thousand times," he said, as he rose ;
" you have really relieved me," and then he went away.

In his canoe he reflected a little on the mental peculi-
arity which made Anne and Carington prompt to
conclude where he had been so tardy in reaching a
decision. Anne had once said of him that his mind
lacked wings, but was very sure on its legs. He
reached home late, and rather weary. Anne said Rose
had been told, and that Margaret had behaved admir-
ably ; also that the boys had no suspicion of the events
which had distressed their elders.

The lives of men are lived under the limited mon-
archy of circumstance. Within this, men's instincts
and personal qualities — in a word, character — de-
cide how they deal with the stringency of events, or
meet the despotism of changeless natural laws.

Carington was about to feel the results of a combi-
nation of influences, some within and some outside
of those due to mental and moral peculiarities entirely
his own.

What I saw in an idle hour may serve to illustrate
my meaning. The reader has my benevolent per-
mission to leave it unread. I was once lying on my
couch of spruce in a rude log-cabin on the AUigash
River. It was raining heavily, and we had left our

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353

tents awhile for the more perfect shelter of a deserted
log-cabin where the lumbermen had wintered years
before my coming. Apparently for reasons as good
as our own, many live things had come hither — some
for a permanent home, and some, like Noah's menag-
erie, for temporary protection. A splendidly con-
structed spider's net occupied the open space where a
window-pane had been. The three remaining panes
were intact. It was a happy thought of that spider :
when flies at noon sought the cool shade of the house,
this open pane seemed to offer a way, and, when the
sun fell, the path of exit was as inviting. The net was
well stocked, as I saw, but mostly these corpses were
dead shells, out of which the succulent meats had
been taken. Nevertheless, the deadly retiarius lay
coiled in a corner, as eager as if he had never had a
breakfast. As to the flies, who were many, they seemed
to be as ignorant of the net's thin lines as men are of
the fatal meshes which circumstance spins in the way
of human flies, or which character weaves when the
fly is his own spider. The spaces between the anchor-
ing cables were wide. Most of the flies went through
quite anaware how near they had been to death.
Some got into the toils and struggled out, and then
went and sat down in dark corners, and reflected on
free-will and predestination. At last a queer-look-
ing, yellowish fly got into trouble. He was physically
odd-looking, and as to mental organization clearly
distinct from the herd of flies. He was evidently
adventurous and on a holiday. He was in and out of
the room, between the long net lines, half a dozen
times. " That is luck ! " said I. " The goddess Wyrda

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has smiled on him ! " At last he struck the net, and
was caught. In place of struggling, he kept still a
moment, while the spider ran out and made a recon-
naissance. Thj^n my fly gave a kick and a flutter,
and was off and away. "Luck and strength," said I.
By and by he sailed past me, and sat down to dine on
the sweet margins of some ponds of molasses — the
relics of our 'iir.sh. Being a little too eager, he got
his legs in the sweets, and then his wings. Not liking
this, he flew away, and, after a disorderly flight, made
for the window, where he hit the center of the net.
This time I got up to observe the affair closely. He
made a brave fight, but the molasses on his sticky legs
was the determining circumstance. The net-thrower
crawled up with caution, when, of a sudden, a great
bee, humming in its flight, went like a Minie ball
through the net, and the spider fled, and the fly tum-
bled out — and this was the end. I felt as if I had
been a superior being who, from the vantage of a
higher sphere, had been watching one of earth's num-
berless dramas. He would have seen how instincts,
character, and circumstance ^jombine to determine the
fates of men.

i i il;

CHAPTER XXVIII

HERE are few things more interest-
ing than ^.o observe in a quiet fam-
ily the effects of an explosion of
the unusual. Assuredly, what had
happened to the Lyndsays was un-
common. There is family charac-
ter just as there is national character. Individuality
is more or less dominated by it. Among those with
whom we are dealing the endless discussions which
in some groups of human beings are wasted on a
matter of annoyance — a calamity or a grievance —
were quite unknown. At need they talked over their
troubles or difficulties, and put them aside when de-
cisions were once attained.

Anne was fond of saying, ^' Talk is a wedge which
widens troubles. When you think, you are talking
to yourself alone, and are responsible for the conse-
quences; it is hard so to weigh words as to know
what weight they will have for others." And thus it
was that even about her most unbearable pain she
said nothing, and disliked all discussions which led
to no working opinion. Mrs. Lyndsay alone was
given to seeking sympathy in her small ailments;
but Anne, as she herself once observed, '' wore neither
her heart nor her liver on her sleeve." And this was

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356

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

the general tone. If talk was needed to settle a
thing, there was enough, and no more. Lyndsay
liked to say, "And now we will put it aside, my dear."
He had thus ended a talk with his wife, who was
disposed to say far more.

To all of them the unpleasant event I have re-
corded brought a sense of horror. But the primary
mood of anger or disgust gave way to some other
form of mental or moral activity, which varied with
the person. Lyndsay simply and directly occupied
himself with the slight evidence he had, and en-
deavored to reach a conclusion as to the criminal.
Anne fell to thinking with interest of the motives of
the criminal, and as to what possible temptation
could make her desire to do such an act. The mother
remained in a state of somewhat lessened emotional
disturbance, wanting some one to talk to of it all, but
finding none save Rose, who had no power to repress
her.

Thus Thursday passed quietly enough at the Cliif
Camp. Mr. Lyndsay w^isely went a-fishing, and took
Rose. It was ])itiably true that, for Mrs. Lyndsay,
the incident of the day before had renewed the grief
which time had begun to heal. She wondered how
Archie could go and fish. She even made a mild at-
tempt to keep her daughter at home; but Lyndsay
resolutely persisted, and had his way. Left to her-
self, Margaret devoted the raorni.ig to coddling Anne,
which resulted, for the latter, in a condition of re-
strained irritabilitv which was almost too much even
for this heroic woman. At last she took refuge in
her room.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

357

Jack Spent the day in cleaning his rifle, and Dick
in stutiing a kingfisher, while Ned bothered him
with questions which not Solomon could have an-
swered. As to Carington, he asked Ellett to go up
to the church and make careful measurements of the
footsteps, as this, by relieving him of the task, would
enable him to get away earlier for his loag paddle to
Mackenzie.

At dawn, Carington, with his two men, in thdr
canoe, went by the Cliff Camp, where all was peace-
fully still.

At the little town he made his own arrangements
for the building of his cabin in the fall, and cashed a
draft for himself and one for Mr. Lyndsay. The
seven hundred dollars of Canadian notes he rolled
into a tight bundle and put in his breeches-pocket.
Then, after a hasty meal and a little rest, he turned
back for the journey up the river.

There was some paddling to do until they reached
swift water, and here he '' spelled " his bowmen, tak-
ing a turn at poling, and pushed on. Tliree miles an
hour is very good sped at this business, and thus, as
the way was long, it was far into tho night before
they reached the Cliff Camp. Every one else but
Jack ^vas in bed. He had taken his blanket and gun,
and settled himself patiently at the foot of the cliff.

" Is that you, Nimrod?" said Carington.

•* Yes."

" You have had a long wait. Is your father up ? "

'' No."

"Then I must keep this money until Ellett can
give it to him to-morrow. Jump in. It is late."

23*

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358

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

In five minutes the boy was asleep in the bottom
of the canoe. Carington began to think over what he
should do next day about the tombstone business.

At his own camp-ground it took him some five
minutes to restore Jack, for a time, to the world of
the wakeful, and Carington himself was glad enough
to find his own couch.

Before dawn, Michelle touched him on the shoulder.

" You are pretty hard to wake, Mr. Carington."

''Am I? What is it? Oh, we are going after
bears. Hang the bears ! " He rubbed his eyes, sat
up, and said to Michelle, " Wake that boy. It will
take ten minutes."

"Yes, sir."

After Jack's blanket was pulled away, and he. him-
self rolled on to the tent-floor, he began to wake up.

"Coffee ready and lunch in knapsack, Michelle!"

"All right, sir."

Carington got up, and, laughing at the guide's dif-
ficulty in reviving Jack, went down to the beach, had
a cold — a very cold — dip, and in a few minutes was
dressed and ready, while Jack, l)ut half awake, was
making a boy's still briefer toilet.

Meanwhile Carington looked into Ellett's tent, and,
seeing him sound asleep, hesitated a moment as to
waiving him, in order to give into his charge the
money he had drawn. As he was about to speak,
Michelle called out:

" Halloa ! Canoe 's adrift ! Take eare. Jack. Pad-
dle her in."

Carington ran out of the tent, and saw that Jack
was again ashore. He had put his gun ar'^l other

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

359

traps in the boat, and then, jumping in hastily to ar-
range them, had caused the canoe to slip off into the
current. The slight break thus caused in Carington's
mental processes made him for the time forget his
intention. Ten minutes later he remembered it, as
they were flying down-stream, and his hand chanced
to fall on the bulging packet of notes in his pocket.

'' Confound it ! " he exclaimed. " I forgot it. It is
hardly worth while to go back, Jack. I meant to
leave the money I drew with Mr. Ellett. I fancy it
is safe enough." Then he proceeded to secure the
pocket with a pin, saying, " We won't go back. It is
late, as it is."

'^ I was thinking that ' said Jack, to whom bears
were of far more importance than the balance in the
national treasury.

'' I meant to wake myself earlier. Jack ; but I was
pretty tired. Usually I can wake when I please."

"I did think you were up, sir," said Michelle.
'^You were a-saying things about roses when I
touched you."

"Was I!"

"Yes. Just, 'Rose — Rose' — like that."

" That 's queer," remarked Jack.

" No. I am rather fond of flowers, more so than
most men. By the way, Jack, you are a first-class
performer in your sleep. If the wedding-guest had
heard your loud bassoon, I don't know what he would
have done."

" Who was the ' wedding-guest ' ' "

" Ask Miss Rose."

" I shall say you told me to ask."

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360

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

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" That is hardly necessary. Read the poem — * The
Ancient Mariner,' I mean."

** I don't care much for poetry stuff."

*' Don't you ? Well, you were pretty musical about
3 A. M." Theu he played a little with the matter of
his rosy dream. "I think, Jack, that very often
dreams like this of mine seem to be the outcome of
some quite trivial event rather than of the larger things
of life. A day or two back I was trying to pick a rose,
and pricked m.y finger. I did r 't get the rose, but
I — meant to. I suppose that tnorn stuck into some
pincushion of the mind. Odd, was n't it 1 "

"I dreamed about bears for a week after that
beastly circus on the beach."

" No wonder," and they laughed. " I don't think
dreams very interesting, Jack ; but twice in my life I
liave chanced to see dreams produce some very
strange results. See how the mists are melting
away."

"What was it about — the dreams f"

''One, Jack, I cannot tell you. The other I can.
I had a guide in the Wind River country who used
to talk in his sleep. Several times when we were
alone in the hills he woko me up by the noise he
made. I used to whistle to quiet him long enough
to give me a chance to fall asleep. It is a good re-
cipe to stop snoring. I tried it on you,"

" Dick can beat me all hollow ! But please go on,
Mr. Carington."

" Well, one night he kept at it so long, and talked
so plainly, that I gave up in despair and listened.
He was unusually excited this time. I heard him

WHEN ALL THE WOODS aRE GREEN 361

say, ' Kill him ! Kill him ! ' Then he groaned and
rolled over and groaned so that I thought he had a
nightmare. At last he sang out, ' Let me go ! I
did n't do it.* After this I whistled ' Yankee Doodle,'
and it acted like a charm. Next morning at break-
fast I said, * Whom were you murdering in the night,
and were they really going to hang you, Billy ? '
When I said this he looked at me sharply, and I saw
he did not like it. He asked what he had said. I
thought it best to say as little as possible, and so
replied, 'You might have been killing bears, Billy.'
I saw he did not believe me. All day long that fel-
low was restless and uneasv. He twice missed an
elk, and he was a perfect shot."

" That was bad," remarked Jack.

"That was n't all. When I woke next morning
Bill was gone. I never saw him again, and I had a
pretty hard time getting back."

" Do you think he had killed somebody ? "

" Probably. Folks' consciences seem to get a gi'ip
of them in sleep, and to go to sleep themselves in the
daytime. It 's a queer enough story."

As they talked the pnddles were busy, the mist
molted, and they ran swiftly down-stream a mile or
more below the Cliff Camp. Here, at a bend, where
the river made a bold curve to the northwest, they
ran uwhore.

" That will do, Michello. Be on the lookout about
six or seven to put us over. Come, Jack, (xive me
the knapsack. Do not load yet." As he spoke they
left the shore, and Carington, leading, struck into
the woods.

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

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They walked slowly throiij»;h a tangled wilderness
of trees, doad and alive, set in perplexing under-
growth, Carington explaining his plans to the boy
fis they tramped along.

" We shall go up the hill to left, over the crest and
down on to Loon Lake. It is a mere pond, but the
berries are thick on the far side, and, although now
there are none, the bears have a habit of going there.
We shall read our fortune clear when we get on the
shore."

" By the tracks on the edge ? "

*'Yes. The deep print of the foot makes little
pools ; and if the water in these is still muddy, the
prints are recent; if not, we shall get no chance."

" I see."

" Out in the Rockies we used to stir up the mud in
the old prints with a stick so as to fool the other
fellows. It is an ancient trick. By the way, Jack,
at evening I shall set you on the ox-track to the west
of Colkett's. I saw two porcupines there a day or
two back. I will go straight down the mountain to
Colkett's. I shall be but a few minutes at Joe's. I
want to arrange about lumber for my cabin. If you
see no game, don't wait, but take the cross track to
Colkett's. You can't miss it. It starts back of the
big boulder in the clearing on the left, as you face
the river."

"And you will meet me ? "

"Yes. Perhaps before you quit the open."

" I understand."

" The road does n't go all the way to Joe's, but I
shall be on it before you."

I j

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE UliEEN 303

" Yes."

" Be very careful how yon shoot. Colkctt'.s is not
far, and the river in the other direction none too
wide, and rifle-balls travel a long way."

" Yes, I will be careful."

"And don't carry your gun that way. So — that 's
better."

It was full noon and cloudy as they walked noise-
lessly down the slope to the lonely little pond in the
lap of the hills. At last they paused among a mass
of boulders.

" Now, keep still. I ordered a man \vp last evening
late to put a black kelt on the beach at the far side,
where a brook comes in. I fancied it might fetch Mr.
Bear." So saying, Carington adjusted his glass, and
searched with care the curved line of the farther shore.

" Look there 1 It 's a good half-mile or more."

The boy took the glass.

" There are some water-weeds in a bunch, and
above — oh, a black thing ! A bear ! "

" Come," said Carington, " you will want a skin
for Miss Rose. Come."

The boy went after him, and the long walk around
the lake began. The way was hard.

" We must go well back up over that hill, and then
down the gorge which carries the stream."

At times the elder person glanced back at the noise-
less, tough little f eUow. " Tired ? " he said, as they
broke with care through the alders.

"Awful," said Jack.

At the foot of the hill, as they left the lake, they
came on a bit of old burnt land, and here the way

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WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

was even harder. Myriads of dead pines, spruces,
and firs, interlaced in tumbled ruin, made progress
difficult. Now it was a giddy walk, twelve feet in
air, along a slippery trunk, now a crawl under spiky
and splintered stems. Again Carington looked back,
and began to understand the value of the qualities of
endurance, strength, and grip of purpose, with which
the boy pursued his way.

At length, hot, brier-scratched, and weary, they came
out on the hilltop. Jack was for immediate march,
but Carington said:

"No. Get cool; you could not hit a barn-door
now. Lie down a bit. You vrill want to be fuUv
rested. As for me, I am half dead," and he dropped
on the scant soil. " Fine, is n't it ? "

A great sea of lesser hills was all around them,
with here and there a rare sparkle of silver from dis-
tant windings of the river.

As for Jack, who lay on the summit, his eyes were
eagerly searching the ravine down which they were
to go.

"A frif^nrl of mine — oh, drop that bear. Jack;
he '11 keep — a friend of mine says that to enjoy a
view like this one must walk up. He has a notion
that somehow the exercise absolutely increases your
mental power to get the best out of it."

Jack was not clear as to this, and he said so.

" I don't understand it myself. I do not know why
it is true, but it is true — for me, at least."

" Maybe because it "s hard work," said Jack,

He could not get his idea into proper shape, not
having Ned's facility of expression.

.11.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

365

" Yes," said Carington. " We like what is difficult
to get ; but that is not all of it. I suppose, if bears
were as easy to get as omnibus horses, neither you
nor I would go after bears."

" I guess that 's so."

" What do you want to be, Jack, when you grow up ? "

" I shall go to West Point."

"Well, and after ? The army is not a career, now-
adays."

" But there is first-rate sport in the West."

"Yes; but that is for one's idle hours. Life is a
pretty big thing. Master Jack."

" What do you do, Mr. Carington ? "

" I build bridges, lay out railroads, generally scrim-
mage with nature to make life easier for man. How
would you like that ? "

" I don't know." He had a clever lad's indisposition
to commit himself. " Is it easy! — I mean, to learn.
I hate books — school-books, I mean."

" No ; it is n't easy. But it is work for a man. Go
to a school of engineering for three or four years
when you are older, and then come and help me
to build bridges. All this energy of yours — all this
hatred of defeat — this — well, you have the whole
outfit, as we say in the Rockies, but it is no good un-
less you know how to do things. The fellows that
know and have no steam, I don't care about. Now,
we want that bear, don't we ? "

" Rather ! "

"And first, we know how to get him, and then
we want him so tremendously that torn breeches,
scratched legs, and the like, make no kind of differ-

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366

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

ence. Just patent that combination, and, as my friends
down in Carolina say, ' there you are.' "
The small skeptic returned, " But we are n't there

yet."

"We will be. The wind is up the gorge. See
those ferns, how they sway up-hill. He can get no
scent of us."

*' That 's so. I would n't have thought of that."

" It is intelligence against mere instinct. Are you
easily lost in the woods. Jack? I am. I have no
resource except incessant observation of landmarks."

Jack looked up in surprise. "I — lost? No, I
never get lost."

" But is that really so ? "

" Yes. I wander off anywhere. It is easy to find
your way here ; but in Maine it is harder. I was up
with father two years ago, at the Parmaccini lakes,
and he almost always had to ask me the way."

" How do you know it ? "

" I don't. I go home."

"Like a dog?"

" I suppose so. I can't tell."

"But do you not unconsciously take note of the
sun, and the moss on the north side of the trees, and
so guide yourself?"

"No — I may; I am not sure. I only know I can
get back, and I go pretty straight. Father says it is
instinct."

" That may be. I have seen guides who could go
through a wood without fail, and unerringly take
you to camp in the darkest night. They cannot tell
how they do it."

v\ I

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

367

" I never thought much about it," said Jack.

"It U worth thinking about. You see most
instincta are intelligently aided in man. The thing
is to keep your instincts and help them with mind ;
but I fancy you will lose yours as you cease to use
them. What you seem to have is like the instinct
which brings the salmon back to his own river, the
homing pigeon to its own cote, and the cat you may
have tried to lose to its own kitchen, miles across the
unknown streets of a great city."

" Can you explain it ? "

" No," replied Carington. He was interested in the
talk. " No, it is incomprehensible. There are organs
in the ear which tell us the point from which sounds
come, and the eye is a help ; but there is over and
above all, this instinct of direction, which guides the
bird, or, still more wonderfully, the fish, and to some
degree, I suppose, the men who have this capacity.
I was once lost in a cave in Virj^inia. After an hour
of turning and twisting in long passages, and among
forests of stalactites, two hundred feet underground,
the guide of a sudden got altogether bewildered and
terribly alarmed. A boy who was with us said, ' I
can get out,' and, by Jove, Jack, he took us back,
and in and out, and at last into the open air. He
never paused."

" That was a scrape. I wish I had been with you."

" Do you ? I prefer not to try it again. Are you
rested?"

" Yes."

" Then come." And they went over the slope, and
began to go down the bed of the scantily fed brook.

308

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

In ji half-hour they came to a small basin whence the
water fell' into the pool below. Creeping cautiously,
they reached the edge and looked down on the muddy
shore. The bear had gone. Then Carington took
his glass.

" The tracks go to the left," he said. " Come, but
be careful."

Slowly and in silence they scrambled down to the
edge of the underbrush. Suddenly Carington caught
the boy's arm and drew him back.

" Hush ! " he murmured. " Softly. There ! " and
parting the bushes, ho pointed through them. A large
bear was slowly moving along the curve of shore,
not forty feet away. " Your bear, sir ; behind the left
shoulder. Steady ! "

" No — you, sir ! "

"Quick! You will lose him. Steady now! Well
done I " he cried aloud, as the boy's rifle rang out, and
the bear fell, rose, and fell again. "No! Don't run
in ! Load ! Now wait a moment I " And, so saying,
he moved along the beach. But poor Bruin was dead.

" Clean shot. Master Jack ! "

"By George!" cried the boy. "What fan! I
thought — I was awful afraid you meant to shoot him
yourself."

" That is not my way with my friends. I hate sel-
fish sportsmen. When you have killed as many bears
as I have, we will toss up for the first shot. He is
dead enough." And Carington nudged the beast in
the ribs with his gun-barrel.

Jack inspected his prey with care. " We must get
his skin."

WHEN ALI. THE WOODS AKE GKEEN

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now ! Well

We must get

" Of course. Got a knife ? "

'' Yes."

" Then help me."

It was a long business, and the sun was well down
when they were done, and the skin packed in a tight
roll on Carington's back.

" Wo will hang up the meat and send up for it early
to-morrow. It is poor, at best. Come, Jack. I think
you are an inch taller. You have killed a bear ! "

" Just have n't I ? " said the boy.

"And you are going to be an engineer," added
Carington, laughing.

"I don't know," said Jack. "Would Michelle tan
the skin for me?"

" Yes. It shall be smoke-tanned and sent down to
you. Once smoke-tanned, it is fairly moth-proof, and
you will find it does not get stiff after a wetting.
The civilized man has never yet learned the art of
the tanner."

" I want it for Aunt Anne."

" I thought you said it was for Miss Rose "? "

" No. That was what you said."

" Did I ? " And they went en in that uncertain light
which is more puzzling than darkiiess, in and out of
the water, or, with exclamations and laughter, pitch-
ing over rocks and dead trees.

Half-way down the hill Carington stopped. The
brook-channel they were following descended to the
river in a widening gorge. He intended to follow it,
and, after seeing Colkett, meant to rejoin Jack, as he
had previously arranged. He now set the boy on a
disused lumber- road leading to the clearing, saying,

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370

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

at last, " This is my way. You may see the porcupine
in the open to the left, but be careful how you shoot.
Confound it ! How much longer do you think I am
going to be your pack-mule? I shall kick. Here,
carry your own plunder." And, laughing, he cast the
bearskin on the ground.

Jack's face lit up. This, of all things, was to be
desired.

" I was going to ask you if I might carry it a bit."

*' Were you ? "Well, be off, and, if you lose yourself,
remember that all the slopes lead to the river."

" Yes. As if any fellow did n't know that ! " said
Jack to himself, as he trudged away, very proud, with
the bearskin on his back.

CHAPTER XXIX

\RINGTON stood a moment, look-
ing after the boy. Then he read-
justed the straps of the knapsack,
which ho had taken again when
Jack had loaded himself with the
bearskin, and went rapidly down
through the more open forest.

At first he had meant to look quietly about the
cabin, hoping to find the place where the children
were buried. On reflection, he changed his mind,
and determined to go at once to the Colketts's, for
which he had a ready excuse. There was still
enough of light, but he had not as yet the least idea
where the little graveyard lay. Better, perhaps, he
thought, to ask Dorothy, and to return at mid-morn-
ing, when Joe would be away. That there was the
least peril in his search he did not think, despite
Lyndsay's warning. It hcd interested him, and he
meant to be guided by it so far as to have some other
guide than Joe in September. That was all.

At the edge of the clearing he climbed over the
snake-fence, and walked at once to the well, being
hot and thirsty. Mrs. Colkett, seeing him, came out
of the cabin, and met him as he began to lower the
bucket. He turned as she came.

371

372 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

"Good evening, Mrs. Colkett. Is Joe about? I
have a job for him."

" He 's 'round somewhere. Joe I " she called, in a
high-pitched voice ; " Joe ! "

The man came from the cow-shed, and joined them
at the well.

"Was you wantiu' me, sir?"

" Yes, Joe. I mean to build a cabin on the island
this fall. Renison will do it. I saw him yesterday.
He wants you to get out a lot of squared lumber.
Can you do it?"

" Yes."

" I will give you the measurements before I leave.
It will be a pretty good job for you. Mind you pick
out good stuff."

" I will ; no fear of that. Want some water, sir ? "

u Yes."

Joe let down the bucket, and brought it up brim-
ming. He set it on the rim of the well. Meanwhile
Carington sat on the ledge, and, tilting the bucket,
wetted his handkerchief and wiped his brow.

" That 's jol'v good. By George, but I am warm I
I have had a hard tramp." As he completed this
brief refreshing of the outer man, he looked up, and
for a moment considered the scaffold of big bones on
which time and care had left Susan Colkett but a
minimum amount of flesh.

He took no more deliberate notice than do most
people of the features, which gave him, however, in
their general effect, a sense of strangeness and of
vague discomfort. The eyes were too big, and, like
the cheek-bones, toe red, the features large. Beside

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GKEEN 373

her the stout husband, muscular and not unkindly of
look, presented an odd contrast. There did not seem
much harm in him, and how miserably poor they
must be!

" Come over soon," said Carington ; " I will tell you
then more precisely what I want."

" He '11 come," said the woman.

" Very good."

"Would you mind, sir, to give Joe a little in ad-
vance? I '11 see he comes."

"Why not? Certainly!"

" The fact is, Joe he 'd never think to ask it ; he 's
that modest."

Carington, who had been looking at her husband's
face, was of opinion that he was pretty full of
whisky, and just now dulled with drink. Still, he
was a good workman, and the misery in which they
lived was but too obvious. He might have found a
more certain agent, but then he would have lacked
excuses for the interviews which his present purpose
required.

" I will tell you just what we want when you come
over, and, as to pay, I shall be glad to give you now
a moderate advance."

" Thank you, sir," said Joe.

" He '11 come to-morrow, sure. Fact is," she went
on, " we ain't a dollar, and there 's no work, and this
house, there 's a man in Mackenzie 's got a mortgage
on it, and the pork 's about out."

" Will you have to go ? "

" That 's what we '11 have to do."

" Rather hard, that."

24*

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374

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GKEEN

"I would n't mind so much if it was n't to leave
them dead children, sir, and no man to care for their
gi'aves. 'T ain't like as if we was rich."

"Are they buried here, Mrs. Colkett If"

" Yes, they 're put away, back in the woods. You
might call that buried. We are just clean broke,
Mr. Carington, and that 's all there is to say."

" I am sorry for you." And he was, despite all ho
knew, beinj? a man pitiful of what led to crime or
to want. " I shall be very glad to gi^/^e you help

now.

"The lawyer man ho 's coming to-morrow, pretty
early. If we ain't got twenty dollars, the cow must

I don't understand that."
don't rightly know. We poor
We most always get the worst

go."

" Can he take it ?

" He says so. I
folk can't ever tell,
of it."

She played her part and told her lie well, looking
down as she spoke, and at last wiping her eyes, while
Joe uneasily shifted from one foot to another as he
stood.

Carington put his hand in his pocket, and took out
the roll of notes. As he unfolded them, the woman's
eyes considered them with a quick look of ferocious
greed. He counted out twenty-five dollars, and gave
the money into her hand, replacing the roll in his
pocket as she thanked him. After this he took the
bucket, tilted out of it half the water, and, raising it,
drank. As he buried his head in its rim, Susan
caught Joe by the arm, and pointed to the thirsty
man, whose back was toward them. She looked

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE OUEEN

375

't to leave
•e for their

:)od8. You
iean broke,

say."
spite all lie
to crime or
ro you help

prow, pretty
le cow must

that."

r. We poor

ret the worst

well, looking
3r eyes, while
mother as he

and took out
, the woman's

1 of ferocioufj
ars, and gave
le roll in his
s he took the
,nd, raising it,
,s rim, Susan
to the thirsty

She looked

around in haste, took a step toward a broken ax-
helve, which lay near by, and then stood still, as
Carington set down the bucket. He had been nearer
death than he ever knew.

As he turned, the woman's face again struck him,
It was deeply flushed ; the large, sensual lower lip
was drawn down, so as to uncover a row of large
yellow teeth, and the face was stern.

" Thank you, sir," she said again, quick to notice
his look of scrutiny.

"You are welcome. Come, Joe. I want to talk
over the lumber."

As Joe went by her, Susan caught his arm with
so fierce a grip that he exclaimed aloud.

" What is it?" said Carington, pausing.

" I hurt my foot last week, and I just stumped my
toes — that 's all."

They walked on and reached the house. W^ she
passed them and went in. Whih; they stood a mo-
ment in talk, she moved to the far (corner, and took
from its rack Joe's old-fashioned muzzlu-lootllug riflo.
She knew that, as usual, it wi. loaded. Then she
hesitated, set it down against the table, and fetched
a bowl of milk to the door.

"You might like a drink of milk?" she said.
" Come in. It 's good. Dory fetched it ; our cow 's
run dry. Hers was better anyway. It 's right rich."

Carington might have thought of Jael as Mrs.
Colkett faced him. "She brought him butter in a
lordly dish." His thoughts, however, were far away.

" No, thank you." he replied, absently.

"Woi "' you rest a bit, sir?"

1 ►

370

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

' I

i il

"No, I must go."

Profoundly disappointed, she went in, sat down,
took hold of the rifle, and then set it aside, as she
listened.

" I am not over sure of the way, Joe." He knew
it well enough. " Come with me a bit."

" Yes, sir." They went around the cabin and struck
oflf into a forest road. At the brook, which crossed
it some fifty yards from the house, Carington turned
oflf the road. He had brought Joe thus far with the
indistinct intention of sounding him about the lost
tombstone. Suddenly, however, Joe said :

" I would n't go down the trail by the stream, sir."

"Why not?"

" It 's shorter, but it 's awful muddy."

" Oh, that does n't matter."

" You 'd lose your way, sure."

" Nonsense."

The man's manner was so uneasy that Carington
at once concluded that the trail might lead near to
the object of his search.

" Good night," he said, abandoning his intention to
question Joe. " 1 shall take the brook trail. Don't
come with me. I see you are very lame."

" Don't you try that way, sir. You — you — I got
stuck in that swamp last fall. It 's real bad."

Carington was now still more certain of the cause
of the lumberman's persistent warnings. " I '11 lisk
it," he said and set oflf. " Good night."

" Good night. Keep the left side, if you will take
the traU."

"All right, Joe."

il '

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 377

He crossed the rivulet, and kept to the right bank.
Joe stood a moment looking after him. The brook-
path would bring Carington full in sight of the
tombstone, and the shadows were not yet deep
enough to hide it. A great fear came upon him of a
sudden. He turned, and ran limping back to the
house.

" What is it ? '' she cried, as he stumbled in. " Is he
dead ? Have you done it ? "

" No, no ! I could n't stop him ! He 's gone down
the brook. Oh, Lord, he '11 see it, and I 'm done for !
He 's a-goin right for it."

She broke out, " Here ! " and thrust the rifle into his
hand. " Now is your chance ! It 's a heap of money.
Go ! go ! You are ruined, anyway. Ruined ! He '11
see it. He '11 see it, sure. Make it safe. Quick ! "

The man stood still. " I can't 1 I just can't ! " He
was shaking as with ague.

" Coward ! Fool ! Give it to me." And she tore
the rifle from his hand.

" Susie ! Susie ! It 's murder."

He caught her arm, and her gown, which tore in his
grasp. She thrust him aside with a blow of her open
hand on the chest. He fell over a chair, and got up,
limping, unsteady, in extreme pain from his hurt foot.
She was gone.

" I will kill you if you follow me," he heard, as she
passed the open window.

He believed her. He was afraid. He went to the
door, limped back, and, falling into a chair, stuffed
fingers into his ears, while sweat of terror ran down
his cheeks. A moment passed, then another, and, de-

ill

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378

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

spite his childlike precaution, he heard his rifle ring
through the forest stillness, and upon this he burst into
tears, and cried aloud, " Oh, Lord, oh. Lord God ! "

As he spoke, he rose up, and stood in agony of
expectation. The woman came in.

" Where 's your powder and ball ? "

" I ain't none. Last charge," he gasped. " Did you
miss him f "

" Miss ! No. Take an ax, and go and make sure. He
ain't to be feared now. I hit him sure. Go and get
the money. Have n't you that much pluck, you sot ? "

" I dassen't."

"He 's got his gun, Joe, and I had a notion he
might be just crippled, and I 'd come and get a load
and make certain."

As she spoke, he stood by her, swaying on his feet,
dazed.

" Great God, are you a man ! " she cried.

"Not that sort," he said, slowly. "Did you say
you done it, Susie?"

" Did I? You fool ! Go and get the money. He
won't hinder you none."

" I could n't, Susie."

She looked about her, in no wise intimidated or
hurried. An ax stood in the corner.

" What ! What ! You must n't ! " he cried.

"Go and get a spade," she said. "I '11 fetch the
money. And, seizing the ax, she thrust him aside
as he stood in the doorway. "You white-livered
coward, get out of my way, or I '11 brain you."

He shrunk aside. He
Susie! Don't — don't 1"

could only say, "Susie!

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 379

imidated or

" Off with you ! " And passing him, with no more,
words, she ran around the cabin and disappeared in
the darkening forest.

This time she moved with extreme caution, so as to
approach her victim in another direction. Neverthe-
less, being, like most of the forest-dwelling women, a
fair shot, she felt coolly certain of her prey.

After leaving Joe, Carington had followed the
brook, or rather the trail beside it, for £ ome hundred
yards, when he noticed a gleam of white among the
shadows. Anything unusual in the forest is sure to
win instant notice from men accustomed to wandering
and to keeping all their senses alert. Moreover, he
was now keenly observant. He stopped, and, cross-
ing the brook, broke through the undergrowth, and
stood at once in a clearing some twenty yards wide.
As he came nearer to the three little mounds, now
dimly visible, he saw the white slab, and instantly un-
derstood that his guess had been correct. A little
while he remained still, in thought recalling what
Dorothy had said, and gradually seeing in his mind
the pitifulness of it all : the crude animal eagerness
of the mother; the rough, unthinking man's wish to
please her.

At last, laying aside his rifle, he knelt down, and,
unable to see, felt with his hands the surface of the
stone. " Ah ! " he exclaimed, recognizing on the back
the dints poor Joe's tool had made. Next he struck a
match, and, guarding it with his hands, read the in-
scription. The match went out before he had quite
done. He lit another.

"Ah me ! " he murmured ; " this is a strange world. "

ii!

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380

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN

And he read, " Of such are the kingdom of heaven."
" What a sad business ! "

He lifted his hand to cast aside the still-burnip^
match. At this instant, while still on his knees, there
was a flash of light. He heard no sound, but fell
across the graves, motionless.

Meanwhile, Jack, with swift feet, eager for home,
trotted down the broken road, and, to his disgust,
finding no porcupines, struck easily into the cross-
road, and, passing the boulder, moved away along the
forest-track. At last the way became less and less
plain ; but, trusting by habit to his sense of direction,
he pushed on into the wood.

A little surprised not to meet his friend, he con-
cluded that he might possibly have missed his way.
For the first time the boy hesitated. Then, as he
stood, he heard a rifle, and, sure at once that Caring-
ton must have shot something, he ran with greater
speed. In a few moments the tangle of undergrowth
checked his pace. Some five minutes or more went
by, and he saw a flare of light. Thinking it strange,
he hurried his steps, and then, of a sudden, stood still.

The woman had carefully approached her prey, ax
in hand, and at last saw, as she strained her vision,
that Carington's rifle lay out of his reach. Reassured,
she went on more boldly. Looking around, and see-
ing no one near, she calmly lifted the man's head, and
let it fall. This seemed enough. She took the roll of
money, and began to disengage the watch-guard; but,
unable to release the catch in the buttonhole of his
jacket, struck one of the matches which, as usual, she
h'>d in her pocket, caught up a scrap of birch-bark.

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

381

and, lighting it, saw by the flare how to undo the
chain. As she dropped the watch into her bosom, a
long gasp broke from the chest of the man beneath
her.

" He ain't done for," she exclaimed, and rose to her
feet, the roll of burning birch in one hand, the ax in
the other. She stepped back a pace, cast down the
blazing bark, which flashed forth anew as she let her
right hand slip up the handle and lifted the ax.

A voice rang out to the left, "Stand, or I '11
shoot ! "

She set a foot on the fading bit of fire, and, still
gripping the ax, fled, with one hoarse cry, through
the woods, striking against the trees, falling, tearing
her hands and clothes in the raspberry vines.

Joe heard her coming, and stumbled out.

" He ain't dead," she cried, " and there 's another
man there. I got the money, though. Come ! quick !
Take blankets — go on to the road. I '11 be there in a
minute. Don't stand staring. You 're drunk ! "

He was. All day long he had been drinking: and
when she went out, he found his bottle and emptied
it, half crazed with fear. He obeyed her with diffi-
culty and came out staggering — letting the blankets
trail, and stumbling as he went. Then he halted.

" Where am I going ? "

" Oh, the river ! the river ! — the dugout ! Fool !
sot ! The dugout 's at the lower landing, is n't it ?
I left it this morning."

" Yes, it 's there."

" Then wait at the road."

She went back into the cabin, caught up some

'^1

)

fill

.< i

382

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

garments, and threw them out of the window. Next
she laked the fire out on^o the floor, and, when again
at the door, caught the kerosene-can from a shelf,
with no tremor or haste, uncorked it, and threw it
onto the scattered fire. A great yellow blaze went up,
and she barely escaped in time. She stood a moment,
and turned away laughing. " There won't be much
for that lawyer-man, I guess." One cf her starved
hens, which had ventured into the cabin to forage,
was hurled out by the blast, blind and scorched, and
reeled about making strange noises. "Gosh, but
that 's fuT'ny !" she cried, snatching the ax and fol-
lowing Joe.

At the fence she found Joe.

" What 's been a-doin', Susie ? "

" Shut up, and hurry, if you want to save your
neck."

" 'T ain't my neck."

" "What ! " she cried. There was that in her voice
which quieted the man, and they went as swiftly as a
reeling head and hurt leg permitted down to the
landing.

" Set down," she cried, and pu'-^hed off the pirogue.
" Can you paddle ? "

"I can."

" Then do it," and they went away into the dark-
ness, down the hurry of the stream.

Jack had dimly understood that something was
wrong as he came through the edge of the wood, but,
as the birch flared up in its fall through the air, he
caught sight of a man's body, and of the backward
step of one about to strike with an ax. Then he

>w. Next
hen again
n a shelf,
i threw it
e went up,
a moment,
t be much
ler starved

to forage,
)rched, and

Gosh, but
ax and fol-

) save your

in her voice
swiftly as a
own to the

the pirogue.

to the dark-

aething was
le wood, but,
h the air, he
e backward
IX. Then he

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

383

called to her. As she fled he ran out, and, hearing
the noise of her retreat more and more distant, he
dropped beside the man.

" It 's Mr. Carington! Is he dead? She shot him!
I heard it — oh, this is awful I What shall I do ? "

*' Mr. Carington ! " he called. " Mr. Carington ! "
As he shook his shoulder, he guessed it was blood
he felt on his hand.

He stood up at last, and listened. There was no
sound but the deep murmur of the distant river.
More at ease, he struck a match, for the birch flame
was out, and, bending over, looked at the body.

" By George I he 's not dead ; he 's breathing."
And still his anxiety was intense. He took both
rifles, dropped a shell in each, ran to the edge of the
clearing, and laid them down. Running back, and
catching Carington under the arms, he tried to drag
him to a shelter. It was in vain. The tall, sturdy
man was beyond his powers. But, as he tug^jed at
him, Carington groaned aloud. At the next pull, he
spoke :

" What 's wrong ? Who are you ? "

" I am Jack, sir. You have been shot."

"Did I do it? — my rifle?" he murmured, feebly.

"No — a woman."

" What ? What 's that ? A woman ! " The shock
of the ball-wound and the subsequent faintness, kept
up by loss of blood, were partly over.

" I am dreadfully weak. What an infernal busi-
ness! Where am I?"

" In the woods ; in the woods. Can you get over
to the bush ? They might come back."

i; •

hi ■

I'll

If!'

384

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GKEEN

*'I '11. try. Great Scott! It 's my left shoulder."
And he fell iu the effort to get to his feet. " I can't
do it. (iet my flask. All, that 's better."

This time he crawled with one arm and Jack's help
to the margin of the clearing, and at last lay among
the underbrush.

"Tie a handkerchief, tight, here, around my arm-
pit. T don't think it bleeds. It might. Now lie
down, and keep an eye over yonder. In a while I
shall be better. What a deuce of a business ! Now
keep quiet. Are you loaded ? "

"Yes— both rifles."

Jack waited, a hand on his rifle. Presently Car-
ington said, feeling his pocket with the right hand,
" George ! that 's it. I was a fool. It 's gone ! and
my watch!"

"How's that?"

" No matter now. Halloa, Jack, what is that light ? "

"Light?"

"Yes," for the upward glow of the blazing cabin
now rose in the sky overhead, and soon began to
send arrowy flashes of illumination through the
trees.

" Can't be the woods," said Carington. " They are
all wet, and there are few pines. Let us try to get
out of it."

This time he did better, but it was slow work, and
Jack became more and more anxious as the light
grew behind then, and now and then sparks fell
through the foliage about their path. They were
soon close to the shore.

" Stop ! " cried the boy. " Who 's there ? "

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 385

shoulder."
" I can't

Jack's help
lay among

d my arm-
. Now lie
1 a while I
less ! Now

jsently Car-
right hand,
5 gone! and

^ that light?"

lazing cabin
m began to
hrough the

" They are

Is try to get

Iw work, and
jas the light
sparks fell
They were

le?"

" Good Heavens ! " said Lyndsay. " Jack ! Jack ! "
and Rose, at his side, repeated his name. " What is
wrong ? "

" I got a little hurt," said Carington, leaning against
a tree. " That is all. It is of no consequence."

" He 's shot," Jack blu ed out. " A woman shot
him. Oh, but I 'm glad to see you ! "

At this Rose exclaimed, " Shot ! " and caught at a
great, friendly pine near by and held fast to it, until
a moment of its stay sufficed to steady her. " Is it
bad?" she said, in a voice which elsewhere might
have told enough, had the comment of her face been
visible.

" No," said Carington, cheerfully. " It is really of
no account. Miss Lyndsay. Let us get away. I can
tell you all to-morrow."

LjTidsay put a strong arm around him, and, thus
aided, they were soon at the shore, where Michelle in
Carington's canoe lay ready beside Lyndsay's.

" Mr. Carington 's hurt," said Lyndsay, and in a few
words explained the matter.

Carington, too weak and dazed to resist, or indeed
to care, found himself in a minute in Tom's boat with
Lyndsay, while Rose and Jack followed in Michelle's
canoe.

"Down-stream," said Lyndsay, "and hurry, my
men."

"Where are you taking me?" asked Carington,
feebly.

" To the Cliff Camp, of course, my dear fellow. We
are going to get even on the bear business."

"You are very good." He was in dreadful pain,

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380

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

but oven this did not prevent the pleasant reflection
that lie was to be under the roof with Rose Lyndsay.

" By George ! " he added, " it hurts."

"I know well enough," said Lyndsay. "You are
not bleeding, however. I still have one of these leaden
hornets in me. It takes the pluck out of a fellow, at
first."

" I should think it did ! " said Carington.

" Don't talk now. It can't be serious. To-morrow,
or later, we shall want to hear more."

Meanwhile Rose in her own canoe was hearing from
Jack all that he knew of the day's misadventure.

" That will do," she said, at last, and fell back on
her seat, deep in thought. There are some fruits
which only winter ripens quickly.

eflection
jyndsay.

You arc
so leaden
'ellow, at

-morrow,

ring from
ture.

I back on
ime fruits

CHAPTER XXX

YNDSAli: had just come in when ho
saw the glow of tlie fire over the
hilltop. He was curious and a little
anxious. Wood-Arcs are of all things
what mew dread the most, when
once they have been face to face
with their terrors. He culled his men again, and
ordered them to take him up the river. Rose, who
had been with him on the pool, asked at once to go
with him.

He said, " I see no objection. Get a wrap and
make haste."

Thus it chanced that in a few moments they were
poling up the stream with more than usual speed.

" Halloa 1" ciied Lyndsay, as a dugout shot by
them in the darkness. " What 's wrong up above ? "
T^ere was no reply.

" Is n't that queer ? " said Rose. " How uncivil ! "
"Very."

At the landing they went ashore, and pushed on to
see what was the source of the blaze.

Presently Lyndsay halted, noticing the sparks about
him. " There is no wind, Michelle."

" No, sir ; and the woods are soaking wet. I Ve a
notion it 's Colkett's."

387

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»88

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

"Best to see. I will wait at the boat. I don't
want to run any risk with Miss Lyndsay." But at
this moment ho heard Jack's challenge, and so all the
threads of ray story are spun together.

As they ran down-stream, Lyndsay was a littie un-
easy concerning what might bo his wife's judgment
as to his course in regard to Carington ; but ho had
felt very deeply the obligation under which the
young man had placed them, and he was clear
enough that there had been really nothing else to
do. Nevertheless, he was shrewd as to the domestic
management of the matter. At the landing he said
to Rose :

"Wait a moment, you and Jack," and then ran
up the steps and into the house.

By this time Rose was in full command of herself,
and able, as her father left them, to speak tranquilly
enough to the wounded man.

" Yes, he was in some pain ; but, to judge from his
own feelings, the trouble could not be grave."

Then she asked, quite naturally, if Mr. EUett had
been told, and learning that he had not, sent Jack
to find Polycarp, that he might take a note to tlie
Island. When Jack came back with the Indian,
Rose said :

"I must see papa about the note for Mr. EUett.
Ah, here he comes." She did not wait to complete
this business, but turned to the canoe where Caring-
ton still lay, and said :

" Good night, and good-by, too, for a few days.
Mama will keep you well caged. You may rest as-
sured of that ! "

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

380

In the very dim light she saw him put out the
hand nearest to hor. She took it, felt tlie lingering
grasp, already fever-hot, that would have delayed the
moment's soft prisoner, but dared not. She said
again :

** Good night. Here is papa," and moved away, at
first slowly, and then quickly.

When Mr. Lyndsay entered the cabin his wife
looked up.

"What is it, Archie ?"

" Don't be alarmed, Margaret. Mr. Carington has
been shot — badly wounded."

" Not by Jack ! " cried the mother.

"Oh, no! No. It 's a queer story. I have not
heard it fully. He bled a good deal, and — "

" Do you think him in danger, Archie ? "

" It is hard to say, especially so soon."

" Surely you did not leave him at their camp ! "
said Margaret.

" No. He is in my canoe on the beach."

" Good gracious ! Is he ? "

Anne smiled, as she would have said, inside of her,
and reflected upon the wisdom her brother had dis-
played, for at once Margaret, easily captured by ap-
peals to her pity, was afoot, and, for the time, intent
alone upon what was best to be done.

" I would send Tom to Mackenzie for a doctor, and
he must stay. I think, Archie, you will have to give
Mr. Carington your room and take to a tent." Then
she went off to set the room in order, while Lyndsay
returned to the beach, still a little anxious, but also
a little amused.

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390

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

Rose had gone.

By and' by the guides carried the wounded man up
into the neat chamber, where Lyndsay helped him to
bed, and was easily able to ascertain that the ball
had crossed the chest beneath the skin, passed over
the left shoulder, and out again — a severe flesh-
wound.

"It does not bleed," said Lyndsay, "and I think
there is no very serious hurt. Can you move your
arm ? "

" Yes, — with pain."

'' Then the joint is safe. I have known fellows
brevetted for things no worse."

" But my puzzle is, why what is only a flesh-wound
should have made me drop as if I were dead. I can-
not understand it."

" The doctors call it ' shock,' " said his host. " At
times it affects the head, and a man hit in the foot or
arm goer crazy for a time, or else it stops the heart,
and he faints."

" That was it, I suppose."

As they talked Lyndsay put on a wet compress,
and, with the skill learned long since, where bullets
were many and bigger, he made his patient reason-
ably comfortable, and left him at last under Mrs.
Lyndsay's despotic care.

In the mean time, Anne, anxious to know more,
had looked for Jack. At ease concerning Carington,
he was off somewhere, busy about the preservation
of his precious bearskin, and Rose, too, had dis-
appeared. Anne felt that she must wait, an(\ ns
usual, went to her room, to rest a little before their

!!'

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 391

retarded dinner. She opened the door, and instantly
went in and shut it. Rose was lying on the bed, try-
ing hard to suppress her sobs, knowing well that she
would be but too easUy heard.

" Dear child, what is it ? " said Anne.

" I don't know. Oh, do, please, let me alone ! "

" But I must know. It is so unlike you. Mr.
Carington is in no danger."

" I know. I don't care whether he is in danger
or not. I do care! It is n't he! It 's — it 's me —
it 's I. I can't tell. I am ashamed. Are all women
this way ? Oh, I hate to be such a fool ! "

Anne sat down. " I don't quite understand, dear ;
but, no matter. What is clear is that you are going
to have hysterics."

" I am not going to have hysterics."

" Then keep quiet, and don't talk."

" You made me talk I "

" I did. I am an ass."

"No — no! Kiss me, aunty. I am so miserable!
Could n't I get to bed quietly ? "

" Yes. Your mother is busj . Come." And thus,
when at last dinner was on the table, and Mrs. Lynd-
say asked for her daughter, she was told that Rose
had a headache, and then, when she got up to go to
her, that she was asleep, which may or may not have
been true.

At dinner, between what Carington had told Lynd-
say and Jack's very clear statement, the story came
out plainly enough. The boy was praised to his
heart's content, and when Anne had said that this was
courage in the right place, and Carington refused to

392

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

! ■ t

sleep until he had thanked him, Jack felt that, includ-
ing the bearskin as a part of the day's blessings, life
had no more to give. As for Dick, he settled the
genus and the species of the bear, and Ned sat in a
corner and meditated, seeing the whole day's events
in pictures, with curious dramatic clearness.

Next morning the doctor arrived, and further reas-
sured them. Mr. Carington was in for a day or two
in bed, and then might be out in the hammock.

Of course Ellett had been informed the night be-
fore, and had come down at once. When again, next
day, he returned, there was a long consultation, and it
was decided that the patient was so well that Ellett
might move down and take care of him, that the doc-
tor would come back and stay a few days, and that
Mr. Lyndsay and his family might go away on Sun-
day night. To this plan Mrs. Lyndsay somewhat
eagerly assented, for reasons of which she said no-
thing, an unusual course for the little lady.

Thus, on Friday and Saturday, what with fishing
and packing, every one was busy.

"Preliminaries are the bane of existence," said
Anne, " but postliminaries are worse " ; and thereupon
she asked Ned if that word was in " Worcester," and
declared for a dictionary of her own making.

Mrs. Lyndsay had no opinion of Anne's capacities
in any practical direction, and declined for a day her
help in the care of Mr. Carington. But now she was
over-busy, and thus it chanced on the next morning,
being Saturday, that she asked Anne to look after
their wounded guest. They had purposely brought
no maids with them, and, even with all of Rose's help,

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

393

Anne had been obliged to assist in packing, for, as
concerned her books, she was as old-maidish and pre-
cise as are some other of her corps about what Anne
regarded as quite unimportant properties. To escape,
at last, out of the bustle of packing, and to find some
one to talk to or be talked to, was entirely to her taste.

" Certainly, Margaret," she said.

" And do not let him talk."

" No."

" And do not talk to him, dear."

" Of course not."

" There is nothing so fatiguing."

'* No. That is quite the case."

'^ And be careful about drafts."

"Yes. Is that all?"

" I think so," returned Mrs. Lyndsay, doubtfully,
and then went before Anne into Carington's room.

"I have brought you a new nurse. My sister-in-
law will look after you this morning. You must not
let her talk to you." And having thus doubly pro-
vided against the deadly malaria of conversation, she
went out as Anne sat down.

Carington liked the maiden lady, with her neat
dress and erect carriage, which no suffering had taught
the stoop of the invalid ; moreover, her uuusualness
pleased him. Her talk, too, was out of the common,
and full of enterprise. What she used of the learning
or sentiment of others seemed also to acquire a new
personal flavor. Mrs. Westerly had once said, " When
Miss Anne quotes Shakspere, it loses the quality of
mere quotation. She can't say anything like the rest
of us."

394

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

As she sat down, she said demurely, " I am not to
talk to you. Let us gossip : that is not talk."

" Oh, no," he said, joyously. " I am just about in a
state for mere chat, which involves no thinking. Mrs.
Lyndsay has been severe."

" I have to fight her a little myself, dear, good, ob-
stinate creature as she is. I suppose she did not talk
to you at all, — not a word, I presume ? "

" I decline, Miss Anne, to betray the weaknesses of
my nurses."

" That is well. Negations often answer questions
quite sufficiently in the affirmative. I know she did
talk to you, and about that miserable tombstone. She
cannot help it, poor mother ! "

" Yes. I thought it pitiable. She seemed unable to
escape from it."

"It is like her; but it is not wise. Margaret is
persistent always. Her likes and dislikes are change-
less. She is obstinate in her kindness, her loves, and
her charities. As good as gold, we say ; but goodness,
like gold, is not an insuran'*'^ of fertile results in all
its relations. I mean that goodness can be sometimes
exasperating. But, as usual, my tongue is indiscreet.
I would like you to understand her. She is worth the
trouble."

" Thank you. I never can forget her tenderness
and her kind carefulness. Never ! "

" Our real battles are over my books. She says my
little library is a wilderness of books, and every
autumn, on my return, I find the servants have had
orders to dust my books."

" How dreadful ! "

■ ':(

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

395

am not to
Ik."

, about in a
Ling. Mrs.

[', good, ob-
iid not talk

aknesses of

T questions
abw she did
astone. She

ed unable to

Margaret is
1 are chan ge-
ar loves, and
goodness,
results in all
sometimes
indiscreet,
is worth the

• tenderness

She says my
and every
ts have had

" Is it not ? And the strange things that happen !
I like to arrange my books so that they shall be happy,
and when I come home and find Swinburne in among
the volumes of Jeremy Taylor, and Darwin sandwiched
between Addison and the ' Religio Medici,' I get frantic
and say things. It is Uboless,"

" How sad ! "

"I shall assure her we — you and I — were only
gossiping. She has an abiding impression that I talk
only high science, and I detest science. Talk I must."

" I think it will do me no harm. I am now quite
easy. I have no fever."

"None," said Anne, taking his hand and looking
at her watch. " Pulse good, too. I don't think a
talk will hurt yon. Tell me when you are tired."

'*I promise, but you shall do the talking. I will
listen."

"You had better be careful how j'ou give such
large liberty. Did you ever, by chance, know Miss
Pearson ? "

" Yes, yes," and he laughed, " years ago — that
statistical lady in Germantown. I had some engi-
neering work near there. Oh, years ago: I was a
mere lad. I knew all those good people, Mrs. Fox
and the Mortons. But what about Miss Pearson f
Good woman, I take it ? "

" Yes, entirely ; but she kept her religion on ice ;
a sort of east- wind of a woman. She had that blood-
less propriety which passes muster for dignity. When
you gave me full discretion as to talk, I meant to tell
you her description of my conversation; I don't
think I shaU."

306

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

I I, : ii

" "Well, you are revenged, I think," and he laughed.
" I find .1 must not hiugh ; it hurts. You will have
to be grave, if you talk at all."

" I think I must tell you. She declared that if I
wanted to be amusiuj^, I never hesitated to be either
inaccurate or untruthful, and that, while accidental
inaccuracy was deplorable, intended intellectual in-
accuracy was criminal ! "

"That is surprisingly like her — or was. She is
dead, I think."

" Yes. How it must bother her ! One can't imagine
accuracy in space, and where time is not. I don't
suppose the angels plume themselves on punctuality."

" Really, Miss Anne ! "

" Well, I will try to be good. Now, don't laugh !
Let us be serious. Do you suppose folks take the
seriousness of death into that other world? Not
that I personally regard it as so very grim a business.
There are many worse trials in life than dying, be-
cause vital calamities may repeat themselves ; but it
seems improbable that we shall have more than one
experience of this exit."

" Who can say ? " said Carington. " I have been
near it of late ; but I can contribute to no wisdom."

" I like to think I shall grin at the world from the
safe side of the fence," she returned. " Miss Pearson
would have said that a due sense of the relative pro-
portion of things would be inconsistent in another
sphere with the minute dimensions of our earthly
jests."

" And you call that serious ? "

<'Ido. Don't you?"

» I

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 397

70,8. She is

ore than one

" No. I shall have to ' p'int ' the talk, as Mrs. May-
bi'ook says."

" And what shall we talk about ? If I cannot put
a smile into my talk, I shall prefer silence."

He made no answer for a time, and then spoke
gravely enough.

" I have had a very narrow escape. Miss Anne, and,
but for that fine fellow, Jack, I should have been lost
to this life, or, if you like, this life to me."

" Yes, that is so. I am proud of the boy. He has
made a friend, I trust."

" Yes, and I can help him. I saw that in the talks
we had. One can tell, sometimes, when, of a sudden,
one comes into sympathetic touch with another nature.
It is like taking a key out of your pocket at need, and
finding it fit a strange lock and turn easily, and so
open a life to you. The sentence is n't good, but you
know what I mean."

" I do." And again he was quiet a little while.

"Miss Anne, may I tell you something?"

"Why not?"

" You may not like it."

" Perhaps not. That is of no moment. I want to
hear. I always want to hear. My appetite for the
unknown is like that of a ghost for realities."

" This is real enough."

"Well?"

"I care — oh, a gi*eat deal — for Miss Lyndsay."

" Do you call that a secret ? It was arithmetically re-
vealed to me by five roses, which should have been six."

"You are a terrible woman. Miss Anne! The
witches were a trifle to you!"

■t

lii

308

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GKEEN

" They had the insight of wicketliiess. I have the
sagacity of love. Rose is very, very dear to me."

" Do you think it possible — "

*' That Rose should care for you ? Yes. It is pos-
sible. But, frankly, yours is a three weeks' acquain-
tance, ripened by unusual events. Neither she nor we
know you as we should know a man to whom — "

" Let me interrupt you. I am thinking of the future.
One does not win a woman like Miss Lyndsay in a
day."

" You ai'e right. I think, were I you, I would assist
the future to take care of itself."

" Thank you. I should like, much as I care for her,
to have her get quite away from any sense of obliga-
tion to me. 1 almost wish she could entirely forget it.
Any man could have done the little I did, and, after
all, you are quite out of my debt."

" No one can pay another's debts. The heart has no
clearing-house. Rose must know that. You feel, as
I do, that no manlj'^ nature should want to be taken
for granted, as altogether what is best for life, just on
the chances of a minute of decisive action. You want
he to know you in many relations, and to know her-
self also. Is n't that so ? "

" It could not be better stated."

" If you had saved her life a dozen times, she would
still reflect before she said ' yes,' and be the more apt
to hesitate because of the obligation. It is a strong
nature."

'' But I don't want her to let — "

" No. I understand, and don't misunderstand me.
We are quite at one."

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

H09

vould assist

" And yon will be my friend ? "

" Yes. I like yon. If yon are good enongh for my
Rose — I donbt — C(mie and see ns j and be prndent
now. I never could hold my own tongue. Therefore,
much conversational adversity makes mo a good ad-
viser. If you see Rose at all before we leave, be on
your guard."

" Thank you again," and he took hr r hand.

" Now I must go. What a pity we were ordered not
to talk ! "

'* Dreadful, was it not? And how good we have
been ! I assure you. Miss Anne, I am worlds the bet-
ter for your visit. Good-by. I am to be up on the
lounge on Sunday afternoon. Indeed, I am to be car-
ried out to the porch. I could walk well enough.
Don't you think I shall have a chance to say good-by ? "

''Tome? Oh, yes."

" Please, Miss Anne, you know I mean Miss Rose ! "

" Why not ? And now I must go."

She did not calculate on Mrs. Margaret, who was
now once more uneasy about this business, and had a
maternal mind to put in its way enough obstacles to
make the stream of love run anything but smooth.
As I have said, she was conservative. The unusual
distressed her. Rose's other love-affairs had been con-
ducted after the conventional manner, and had caused
her no great discomfort. There was too much abrupt
romance in this courtship, and she feared for the
effect on Rose of its singularity, believing it might
unsettle her good sense and bring about a too hasty
result. She did not understand her daughter; few
mothers do.

400

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

It was lato iu tho ufternoon of Sunday, almost twi-
liglit, when tho canoes were loaded and ready. Rose
came down last and stood with the rest on the beach.
Mrs. Lyndsay, her husband, Anne, and the boys had
said good-by to Ellett and Carington, but the mother,
on this or that excuse, kept the men busy, until at
last, Ellett, seeing Carington's impatience, called one
of his own people, and with his help lifted his friend
out on the porch.

The cliff hid from view the little group on the shore
below.

" Confound it," said the sick man, " they are gone !
No, I hear them. I think I shall walk to the steps,
Ellett."

" You will do nothing of the kind ! "

" Hang it all ! "

"No. Keep still."

At this moment, as Lyndsay was busy putting his
people in the boats, and Tom was thundering advice
and orders to the men, Anne said :

" Really, Archie, Rose ought to say good-by to Mr.
Carington."

" What is that ? " exclaimed Margaret from her
canoe, which had just been shoved off from the strand.

" Nothing, dear," said Anne. " It is really ungra-
cious, Archie." This in an aside.

" But Margaret thinks — "

" Margaret will make mischief by wanting not to."

" Well, perhaps you are right. Run up. Rose," he
said aloud, " and say good-by to Mr. Carington. He
is on the porch now."

" I will go up with you," said Anne ; " I forgot to

on the shore

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN loi

my j,Mod.by myself," und, witli this mild pre varictttio.i
to assist her, Rose followed her aunt.

" I came up to say jrood-by, Mr. Carington."

"And I," said Anne.

" Good-by,» he said, putting out his hand. Whether

" You will write to mo. Miss Anne ? "

" I will, and Mr. EUett will let us hear."

" No, I shall do that myself."

" Come, Rose," called Lyndsay.

She turned and went away with her aunt. In a
few moments Carington saw the little fleet of canoes
scattenng, as the paddles rose and fell. Then thev
entered the swift current, and were lost to view
around the^bend in the river,-the boys calling out a
loud "good-by," and then breaking out into their
lavorito song:

"Seven braw sons had gmlo Lord Jamos,
Their -.vorth no Scot will gainsay ;
But who shall match the bonny eyes
Of gentle Rose a Lyndsay?"

"Who, indeed!" said Carington, as he shut his
neld-glass with a snap.

i i!

■1

CHAPTER XXXI

!OSE was ill tlio boat alone with her
aunt. Neither being in the mood
for talk, they ran silently down the
broadening stream without a word.
The paddles dipped and rose; the
evening shadows erept forth, as it
were, out of the earlier darkness of tlie woods, and
again, as once before, they sped along in the gloom
of an overcast night.

The same soft odors of earth and spruce, the pecu-
liar smell of broken water, were as they had been.
Once more the hiUs seemed closi - in upon them.
The clouded skies overhead appeared to be almost
within touch. Then the white flash and roll and
strange voices of the rapids went by them like the
mysterious uncertainties of a dream.

All was as it had been three weeks before : all but
Rose herself. She vras under other skies, in the
strong tide of a mightier current. She locked her
hands, and set herself to put it all aside, and to win
again the mood of peace and serenity which these
three weeks had so disturbed. It would not come
back.
As for Anne, she lay against the piled-up luggage,

402

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GUEEN

403

silent ftnd thought-bound. 8he was in the dreary
company of pain, and smiled sadly as she glaneed
back over the years in which it had been her foe or
friend, and again, as often before, wondered how long
it would last, and she bo called upon to bear it with
ever-weakening physical power to make the fight less
easy.

At the landing, and while they were arranging to
go to the station, a man came down the bank and
asked for Mr. Lyudsay.

'* That is my name. How are you, Carstairs ? What
is itr'

" This way, sir, u moment. Could you let Michelle
come with me for half an hour, — or Tom. The body
of a man has come ashore on Caribou Bar. They
have taken it up to my barn. Some of the men say
it is Joe Colkett. We think one of your people
would know."

Lyudsay called Michelle, and, leaving proper direc-
tions, went away with him.

In the barn, after twenty minutes' walk, he found a
number of men, and the local magistrate. Two lan-
terns lit dimly the threshing-floor.

The men stood about silent ; the horses in the stalls
beyond changed feet, and the noises of the never-quiet
river came up through the night.

On the floor lay the body. Lyndsay took the lan-
tern, and bent over it.

" Yes, it is Joe ! Poor fellow ! "

" He is badly cut up by them rocks," said Michelle,
" and his foot."

" Was it rocks ? " asked Lyndsay. " The skull seems

404

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

broken. Poor fellow ! '' Then he took the magistrate
aside, and they talked long and earnestly.

" Yes, I got your message. Thursday night one of
the wardens hailed a dugout, and got no answer.
That was below your camp."

" I passed it also, farther up — two people. It must
have been that woman and Joe. They fired their
house, — why, I do not know, — and got off with their
plunder."

" We shall catch her. Do you think she killed
Joe?"

" Perhaps ! As like as not. But, if that woman is
alive, you will not catch her."

" I shall wire to Quebec."

"And you will let me know ? "

" Certainly."

"Carington's evidence you can get, of course. I
really have none to give myself. The woman you will
never get." And they did not. No dugout was found,
and whether she too was lost or escaped to breed fur-
ther mischief, none know.

Lyndsay walked swiftly back, and rejoined his peo-
ple at the station. When at last they were running
at speed between Quebec and Montreal, Anne said :

"Archie, what was it last night?" Why did they
want you ? "

Then he told her, as he had already told his wife,
the sad ending of poor, simple Joe.

" It is a miserable business," she returned. " Really,
Archie, the morals which come at the end of life's
fables are pretty useless for those most concerned."

woman is

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 405

On reaching home, Anne found a letter from Car-
ington. He wrote :

That astonishing woman - Dorothy Maybrook-has sn^nt
most of her time with me. She calmly fold ^letUo go afishi^g
He went. I have been admirably nursed, and, as you may sup!
pose have not lacked conversation. Who 'p'ints' ffiram fn
her absence, I do not know. '

There has been no ners of the Colketts. It is but too prob-
able that she killed the man, and got away in safety. I Tall
hereafter entertain a profound respect for the intelligence of

It is great fun to hear EUett and Dorothy. Do write to
me -and say pleasant things to all of those dear, good people
of yours Tell Miss Rose I am not too badly crippled to asktr
a new place as bowman.

Yours, etc.

26*

V'Z

CHAPTER XXXII

HE winter days went by, and, al-
though the bridge was built, it
seemed to need later much inspec-
tion, until, by ill fortune, there were
bridges to build in Cuba, and
thither Carington went in haste. It
was therefore not until mid-June that he reached
home again.

While busy with his bridge, and later, he had found
himself often at Lyndsay's table, and had come to be
a welcome guest. And yet he seemed no nearer to
the end he desired. One day, just after he had gone
to the West Indies, Anne Lyndsay had said to Rose :
'' I think that is a too patient man : I hate a man to
be as patient as that. If I were he, I would go away
and stay away."
" He won't."

'' How long will this state of things go on ? "
" I do not know. I cannot be sure. I — aunty, one
ought to be so very sure. It is for life ! I think he
understands me."

" If he were to leave you, my dear, you would cry
your eyes out."
" I should."

^' How many bears go to a wooing ? "
" Let me alone, Aunt. I had better be let alone."

406

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GKEEN 407

Then Aiiut Anne, who was feebler than ever, said
to herself, "Love is the only frnit which ripens in
the spring." But meanwhile Carington was away in
Cuba, as we have said, and the spring came and went
without results.

He found in his rooms in Boston, on his return, a
letter from Miss Anne Lyndsay. He was depressed
') in spirits ; the town was empty of all he knew, and
more than ever he felt the want of a home. When
last he saw Miss Rose, she was still, as always, pleas-
ant, gay, and friendly. He had never yet seen fully
the emotional side of a nature resolute by construc-
tion, and perfectly mistress of all the protective ways
of the world of woman. Now and then the dim past
of their life on the river seemed to him as if it had
never been. More and more time, and the world ap-
peared to be widening the distance between them,
and yet once she had looked to be so near.

He sat a minute or two with Anne's letter in his
hand. The maiden lady, — "Mistress Anne " he liked
to call her, after the Southern fashion his youth re-
membered, — Mistress Anne had, as the months went
by, taken him quietly into the wide circle of her
friendships. Her letters, however, were rare enough.
She wrote many, but not often to Carington, although
from Cuba he had written frequently.

He put aside all the other notes and, lighting a
pipe, sat down with Anne's letter^ honestly glad of
the kindly relation it suggested.

Dear Mr. Carington : I have bad a number of letters from
you of late, and this is all I have been able to give in return. I
have now to limit myself even as to this indulgence.

408

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

You won't want to hear about the new books, and you will
have, I presume, some quite absurd desire to know about my
good people. A man would say, "Everybody quite well, thank
you"; but, being a woman, I know better the masculine wants :
only women write satisfactory letters.

My good brother is well, and shamefully busy at the gamo
of the law. Mrs. Lyndsay is just now in bed. Dr. North
comes daily; but Margaret's maladies, which I must say are
rare, are obstinate when they arrive. She has to read a report
next week at a society for the prevention of something to some-
thing. If she lets that day go by in bed, I shall be alarmed. A
dose of duty will cure her at any time. She re uires large doses
of pity when ill, and as to that I am grimly homeopathic.

Dick is at school — and Ned. They both «vant what no schools
give, some man who will know how to educate the peculiar, and
not insist that it be like the unpeculiar. As for Jack, he has
begun to work, and takes it hard, and has more rows than ever.
One envies England her India for these restless young Vikings.
In a week we join Lyndsay on the river.

Carington looked at the date. It was two weeks old.

My niece is very well ; as handsome as ever ; rather too seri-
ous, as I think: one wants a little foolish vagueness in the
young. It gives to the human landbcape atmosphere, as the
painters say. If you don't know what I mean, I am sorry for
you. I tell Col. Fox that is what the Quakers lack — atmo-
sphere. (/ call that very clever : vide EUett.) Fox says Friends
are rather definite, — think of the arrogance of calling them-
selves Friends, pnd a big f also. This is the great and lovely
liberty of the letter. It may wander like a gipsy. I think really
I must go back and look. I meant to tell you what North said
about tombstone biogi-aphy. He called it " epi taffy." Is n't that
lovely ? Also, it has no manner of connection with the rest of
this meandering screed.

I was saying that Rose has become too grave. Do not be
alarmed. It is only a mood elongated. And now I am going to
do a very silly thing. No, I won't ! A word to the wise is said

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 409

iZTfi u^'J. ''"'' ^ '^^""^ *« ^^^« y«" ^ do«« of advice.

floul?.;." ^' V ?' "r"'^' '" ^"« *«-' -^*^ tb-t stupid

fill ...^ u?^ "^^*^ '*^ ' ^'"'^ *^^" - 1 hesitate. Be so good as to
fill m this blank with what I shall only think, not sayf

I adviso most positively —

I can hear your anathema.

"I Should think so, indeed!" exclaimed Carington;
"and what next?" ^ '

We shall be in camp before this reaches you. I had some
doubt about going myself, but I mean to have all the joy ll

over, I shall just say to my dear people " Bv hv • =«<. ■

Xti '""T'': ""'^' -^ot^eeri ierrruS:

^y folks make such a fuss about dying. The way some peop e

loodvlo. "''',. *'' ^'''*^ ^' " ^««t. What ..oX the
goody-goody world say to that - or my dear Margaret Lyndsay ?
I hear that you are to be on hand soon. Mr. Ellett has gone
up the river, and promises to be vory attentive to me. I am al
of a flutter. Read with care what I have not written and
believe me, Mysteriously your friend, '

L'envoi. '^''''^ Lyndsay.

Jtj,T T ^r*^ "^ ^'""''^ "'^""^^^^^ *h« P«««^« ot Montrose
might be of interest. ""^lueso

" Of all the nonsense ever I read ! " said Carington-
but he went to the side of the room, where the long
bookcases overflowed with volumes on which the
dust had gathered in his absence. He looked them
over, and at last found the one he sought. " Mon-

i ^

fl!:

410

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

trose — Graham — James, Marquis of, etc., author of
certain sougs once popular."

By and by he chanced upon a volume of Scotch
ballads, and sat down. Very soon he laid the book,
back up and open, on the table, and went on smoking.
After a half-hour he discovered that his pipe had
long been out. It was, in fact, cold.

He went forth at once, and assured his partners
that Cuban malaria necessitated Canadian air. In
twenty-four hours he was on his way to the river.

Three days later saw him on the waters he loved.
Toward five in the afternoon he heard voices singing.
He knew them well, and in a few minutes was ashore
at a bend of the stream.

For a few moments he stood, unseen, a little be-
low the lads, who lay back of a rock, caroling their
songs, having killed many trout, and filled themselves
with a mighty luncheon.

Carington listened a little, and then cried out,
"Any bears here ? " and walked round the rocks. He
was noisily made welcome. " Give me a bit of somv,
thing," he said. " I pushed on, and have had nothing
since nine o'clock."

" There is n't much left," said Jack. " Rufus ate
the big pie. There was only one little one for Ned
and me."

" They said they did n't want it, and I wish I
had n't," said Dick. " Pie 's an awful different thing
when it 's outside of you and when it 's inside."

" I have observed that," said Carington. " That
will do. Jack. A little marmalade, please. Bad,
Dick?"

WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

411

"Very."
whi^fr."^^ ^^* '''''■ ^''''^'' ""^ ^^^'<^ ^l^ay« escape

"That's so!" exclairaedNed. "Just remember that,
Ked Head." *

" Shut up ! "

" Behave yourselves," said Jack. " Fact is, sir. we
are all about ready for a row."
" Bad as ever ? "

" Worse ~ those two, I mean. I am like a lamb."

Or a bear-cub," said Ned.
" You wait a bit, old rhyme-snarler."

"Halloa! 'said Carington. " Not now, please. How
is everybody ? and Miss Anne ? "

" We are all first-rate. Rose she is up there above
us on the point. She wanted to be alone; she loves
that. She told the big Indian to come down here and
wait till we go up. You can see her red umbrella.
She s sketching. We are to stop for her at six. More
bread?"

"Yes. Bless me, it is five o'clock! I must get
away. What was that song ? I thought I knew your
whole repertory."

" Oh," said Ned, " we found that last winter. Tune
up, Jack. Dick 's got colic in his bagpipes: he 's no
good."

" I did n't catch it quite. No, don't sing it; say it
tor me." ' "^

" Well, here it is," said Ned :

''It was a lorde of the North Countree
Cam' wooing a lady of high degree.

412 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

She wad nae listen, she would nae hear ;
Till a wee bird sang in that lorde's ear:

" ' When spring-tide leaves are fair to see
Brave little wooers we birdies be.
Give me for love-luck bannocks three,
And I will pay a fairy fee.'

" * Ye shall hae bannocks fair and free
For all the birds in the North Countree.'
Up and whistled the little bird friend,
* Wise folks begin where ither folk end.'

"Gay laughed that lorde. Nae more said ho,
But thrice he kissed that fair ladye,
He kissed till she was red to see ;
And they 're awa' to the North Countree."

" And is that your notion of wooing, Mr. Ned ? "

" Rose she says it 's a horrid song."

" You just ask her," said Dick. " Hang that pie ! "

Carington, laughing, stepped into his cauop, and
settled himself in easy comfort against the baggage
piled up behind him. " See you soon, boj s."

Then he said, " Michelle, you may drop me at the
point where Miss Lyndsay is. I shall walk up."

" Well ! " he said to himself. " The family seem
unanimous. It would be rather funny if — if it was n't
something else."

After this he gave himself up to his thoughts, and
what fair cheer the June evening offered. The good
mother-nature was all in sympathy, and, foreseeing in
her prophetic heart the drama about to be, had set out
the stage and its scenery with pleasant prevision.

For here was a stretch of rippled river, where the
hidden stones set the waters a-dancing, and there they

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AliE GKEEN 413

rolled high, luid imou were possessed of a (!oy quiet-
uess in nooks below the trees, where red and white
tangles of rootlets swayed in the cnrrent and had their
fill as a reward of adventurous growth. The sun was
just over a far hill, and low, so that all the long broad
reach was aglow with many colors, to which the sky
above and the stones below lent variety of help, that
none might hope to explain or paint it, and that only
the pure joy of it should be left in the heart of man.

And for it all this young fellow in the canoe was
open enough, glad to get from the sensual tropic
zone to the cool wholesomeness of that he saw. Now
and then he caught sight of the red shelter on the
point, and tingled, for this love had been fed with
mere memories these many months, and now he had
won the sweet courage which is a thing native to the
wild woods, and wilts in the hordes of men.

Across the waters a mighty wreckage of vast rocks
lay, where untold years since they fell in some ele-
mental strife from the granite fortress which still
towered high in air. Along its battlements a few
grim warder pines kept their centuried watches.

On the beach opposite To-Day sat, aud mocked
with colors the massive ruin, untroubled by its mys-
tery. To-Day was a maid in a pink gown, for pretti-
ness — standing, sketch in hand, to see, with head on
one side, if her sketch had got the vigor of these
fallen rocks.

Nature, liking love-affairs, had decoyed the maid
into a moment of statuesque repose, and, knowing
well her business, had set back of her a bold graj'
rock, deep sunk in ferns. Against its sternness the

414 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

streugth of virginal curves stood out, very fail' to see.
Meauwhile the euuoe drew uearer, ruuning close to
shore.

At last Caring^^on leaped on the beach, and came
straight to where she stood, flushed of a sudden, and
with downward hands holding the picture.

" Good evening."

" Oh, Mr. Carington ! "

"That will do, Michelle. Don't wait. I shall
walk."

The canoe was off and away as she said :

" It must be four miles. Is n't it a rather rough
walk?"

" It is nearer five. How are you ? How is every
one ? I can't tell you how glad I am to see you."

" How dreadfully brown you are ! "

" Cuban sun. Miss Lyndsay. I am told it is be-
coming."

"Indeed! Who told you?"

" A young woman on the steamer."

" Indeed."

Here she glanced down the river, and resumed her
place on the rock.

"You may sit down there. Please give me that
color-box. Those pines are so hard to get in."

" Thank you. I shall sit when I am made welcome.
You have not said so much as that you are glad to
see me."

" That was stupid of me. Of course I am glad to
see you. How did you like Cuba?"

" It was very hot."

"Was that the extent of your observation? It

it. I shall

ow IS every

esumed her

ve me that

vation ? It

WHEN ALL THE VV0UD8 AKE GREEN 415

seems rather limited. Do you think that lower stone
IS purple enough ? Purple is such a difficulty ! "

" I wish you would not paint now."

"Why not? But I must. I shall never get just
this light again. It is the most important thing in
life— that rock."

'' Let me see." He took the sketch and put it aside,
out of her reach.
" Please," she said,
u No."

'' But I shall — I shall be angry."

" You have had your way too long. You get what-
ever you want. It is very demoralizing."

;'But I never got my gold dollar." This was un-
wise.

" No J you never will."

She was silent now, foreseeing trouble.

Meanwhile he sat on the ferns at her feet. As she
spoke, her color-box fell. Carington set it aside. She
made no further remonstrance.

"What o'clock is it, Mr. Carington?"

"You are here till six. You can't get away. What
is the use of asking the time ? "

" I don't know."

"I do. It is my hour, Rose Lyndsay." And he
looked up. "For a year we have been seeing one
another in the midst of a fog of conventionalities,
and the game has been all in your hands. One can-
not love and respect a woman and wish to force her
to abrupt decisions, and she can always escape. I
have waited."

" Please — it is dreadful ! I beg of you."

410 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN

"Nrt. I Imvo boon very patient, but I am so no
longer. Wo are hero alone : a man and a woman.
T\w world of defense and excuses is far away."

'' Oh, if you only know ! It is so hard ! If you
think I have been happy this winter, you little know."

" How long is this indecision to last i "

" I do not know."

'^ It is a simple question : Do yon care for me ?
Core ! No ! I want you to say that you love me !
Oh, plainly. Rose Lyndsay, as I have said it until you
are weary of it, I dare say."

" How (iruel you are ! I cannot. I ought to bo so
sure about such a thing ; and I am not — I am not ! "

" Then I think I will go." Ho oko slowly, with
measured distinctness.

" I am sorry," said Rose. " I am more sorry than
you can think."

He made no reply for a moment ; but, still seated
below her on the ferns, put his hands to his head and,
looking down at the pebbles, said :

'* I camo here resolute to force you to say * Yes ' or
'No.' It seemed easy, away from you. Now that
you aro beside me, I am helpless. If I loved you less,
I could do it. I find it easier to carry my weariness
of waiting still longer. You are all my life to me.
You have a home and constant loves : I have no
one — I am alone ! What others have in life — sisters,
brothers — I lack, as you know. And yet — and yet,
I cannot force you to a decision. If you are just to
my great love. Rose, I must ask you to say — It
might be wiser, both for you and for me, if I were to
be positive."

tEEN

wrrEN ALi. TirK woods AUIO OUKKN tl7

I am so no
1 a woman,
way."

rd! If you
little know."

iro for mc?

3U love me!

it until you

ight to bo so
- 1 am not ! "
slowly, with

3 sorry than

:, still seated
liis head and,

say ' Yes ' or
Now that
ved you less,
ly weariness
J life to me.
: I have no
if e — sisters,
3t — and yet,
Li are just to
to say — It
, if I were to

" Oil, no ! no ! "

" You shall have your way. I will not trouble you
aifuin: but, I know you well— you are n, wonum of
sense and courage. If I go, have I not tlie honest
right to ex[)ect that some day you will l)o bravo enough
just to write to me, yes— or no ? I leave it with you.
That ought to sot you at ease."

" But it does not, — it will not. Life is so hard

and I do — I do want to do what is right !"

" Have I been too liard ? Well, good-by." And, so
saying, he rose and stood beside her. She glanced
up at him, uneasy, pitiful, timid. He put out his
hand, " Good-by." She took it, rising as she did so.
As she held it, he added :

" I shall go back to-morrow ; a telegram will explain
it. I must not spoil your holiday. Good-by."

The hand she gave stayed passive in his grasp.

" Let me see you once, Rose, before I go. I mean,
look up."

She lifted her gaze, and, as his eyes met hers, he
saw.

" Rose ! "

" What is it ? "

" You love me ! "

'' No — no. Oh, I don't know ! "

Then he caught her in his arms and kissed her, and
all her soul went out to him in one great sob of joy and
love ; and in the sweet pain of it she fell to crying,
the fair head on his shoulder.

" Oh, Fred ! Fred ! » It was all that she could say.

" Are you sorry ? "

*'No! No!"

418

WHEN ALi, THE WOODS AKE GEEEN

" Aud you are sure ? "

"Yes."

" Then dou't cry any more."

'' I can't — can't help it. I am so — so glad."

She stood and took his two hands, and said, " I was
afraid, I was not sure. Now I know ; it is for always ! "

"Yes, Rose. Sit dowii, dear." And again he fell
on the ferns beside her, and they talked in the tongue
of the new land they had found, looking before and
after, and asking no more of life than the golden-
freighted minutes brought.

Meanwhile the sun fell behind the hill, and the glow
of blue and orange light on the waters faded tc dusky
brown. Tree and rock grew slowly less distinct as
the shadows crossed the atream ; but on their world
another sun arose, and with touch of hands they
stayed, talking of the life of love and duty and com-
mon helpfulness which lay broad and beautiful before
their eyes.

At last they heard the paddles, and their hands fell
apart.

"How late you are, boys ! "

" Yes ; the trout were rising. I 'm awful sorry," said
Ned.

" So are we," returned Carington. " We have been
horribly bored — Miss Rose and I. I will go up in
your boat, Miss Lyndsay, if I may. It is late to walk."

" Certainly.'^

She had now a little gold dollar in her shut hand, and
was silent enough, till he left her at the Cliff Camp.

She went up the steps slowly. What had an hour
done with and for her? She was very happy.

r hands fell

WHEN ALL THE WOODS AEE GREEN 419

"Pleasant, is n't it?" said Anne. "Get a good
sketch, dear? Mama and your father are still out.
Come here, nearer; what is the matter with vou?"

"Nothing." ^

"Was n't that Mr. Carington I heard on the
beach ? "

" Yes. He stopped when he saw me sketching."

" Yes. Come and kiss me. Rose."

The girl bent over her.

" I am so glad ! "

"Glad? Why?"

"Go and wash your face, and change that ribbon,
Miss Ostrich; but, for heaven's sake, don't let Mar-
garet know I guessed It."

"No! no! Dear Aunt Anne! I am so verv
happy!"

" And I, my darling.^

" Will Pardy like it?"
" V-^vy much."

lad Mardy ? "

"Yes."

"Oh, here they come,— I must run. I want— I
want to be alone, just a little."

" Kiss me again, Rose."

Then the girl fled in haste; but Anne said, "And
now I should like to live a little longer."