him capable of. "If it were my life," he said, with un wonted energy, "it should come out from the cloud! It should come forth radiant, not to sink into the grave, but to make a new morning for the new sky and the new earth that are waiting for it."

I drew back, with a subtle, intuitive impression of some latent meaning in his words,-felt, but not understood. He paused for a moment, and then went on, more slowly, but in a tone expressive of even deeper feeling. “Do not forget what Carrie said just now, that the sun which is setting to one, is rising to another; and try to derive a little cheer from the reflection that, in human life also, joy often begins to rise in the very spot where, from one point of view, he seems to have set forever."

Both truth and comfort were in his words, if I could have stopped to take them. But I passed them over unheeding, intent only upon detecting and defining that other suspicious, elusive ingredient; which, however, continually escaped from my crucible of thought in formless, intangible vapor. A loud peal of thunder startled me in the midst of the attempt. Rick and I looked round simultaneously. Behind us stretched a dense, dull gray canopy of clouds, lit up, for an instant, with the vivid glare of lightning; a chill, sullen wind breathed drearily in our faces; and two meadows beyond, between us and the house, we could see and hear distinctly the heavy march of the rain.

"So that's what the clouds have been up to in our rear, while we were busy with those in front!" said Rick, with undisguised vexation. "A very well executed flank movement, it must be acknowledged! But an exceedingly unhandsome trick on the part of the elements, nevertheless. What has Carrie done with herself, I wonder?"

"I suppose we are to run for it," said I, gathering up my skirt, preparatory to flight. But Rick stopped me. "It won't do," said he, decisively. "You will run

straight into the rain, and your discomfort in being soaked will not be mitigated by the consideration that you are 'neither sugar nor salt'-except in a figurative sense. There is a hole under the rock-a cave, if you like that better-where I have found shelter from many a shower, in my boyhood; and it is large enough to hold us all, if I remember right. At all events, it is our only chance of escape. This way-the path is a little rough-let me help you down."

I hesitated. The "hole under the rock" had not an inviting sound. Besides, I had no mind to seek its shelter until I was certain of Carrie's company.

"I beg your pardon," said Rick, a little impatiently, fairly lifting me from the rock on which I stood to the one below, "but I see that I must take the matter into my own hands, if you are not to get wet; and I do not propose that you shall, under my charge. There is a raindrop, now! And there is Carrie down below-all in good time! Run, Carrie, for the oven,'"-raising his voice, and accompanying the injunction with an expressive gesture.

She nodded, and darted around the corner of the rock. At sight of her and the raindrops, my hesitation vanished, and I followed with alacrity. We were soon in the cave,— an oven-shaped cavity formed by the overlapping of the rocks. Its ceiling was only just high enough to admit of our sitting upright; but the lateral space was ample. It was beginning to be dusky, of course; though the opening faced the western sky, and would catch its latest gleam.

An hour passed swiftly enough. There was even a degree of enjoyment in our situation. Almost any event which transcends ordinary rules a little, without violating them, is a pleasant break in a monotonous life.

Moreover, circumstances like these give a strong impetus to acquaintance. Barriers of strangeness, of reserve, of shyness, melt down insensibly. Rick, Carrie, and I, were soon talking together with much of the ease and con

fidence of old friends. Both of my companions gained thereby. Carrie showed an amiable, unselfish nature, sweet and sound to the core; and Rick, more manliness of thought and aspiration than I had given him credit for. Naturally, our talk took a tinge of gravity from the sunset we had just witnessed; deepened by the loud roll of the thunder, the beat of the rain, and the growing duskiness of

our retreat.

I mention these incidents that you may understand how inevitably they stimulated the growth of feelings that, otherwise, would scarce have blossomed so soon,-that might have perished in their unquickened germs.

At the end of an hour, the flashes of lightning that had lit up our cell from time to time, ceased; and the thunder died away in a faint far-off muttering. But the rain still fell heavily. Taking an observation, Rick gave it as his opinion that the shower had developed into a settled rain, and that we were "regularly in for it."

"And so," he continued, buttoning up his coat, "the next thing is for me to go up to the house, and bring down a lot of outsiders for you and Miss Frost to go home with."

"Outsiders!" laughed Carrie, "what do you mean?" "Outsiders, sweet sis, is a generic name for things to be worn outside, shawls, rubbers, overcoats, etc." And Rick put on his hat, preparatory to launching himself into the rain.

At this moment a faint "Halloo!" penetrated our hiding-place.

"By all that's opportune, a rescue!" exclaimed Rick, dashing out, and returning it with a will.

In brief space of time, a nondescript figure appeared at the mouth of the cavern. It had long, gray hair, keen black eyes, slouching garments, and a saturnine face;-in short, it was Mortimer Bryer, the hero of Mrs. Prescott's anecdote, who had not before deigned to show himself to

He was heavily laden with "outsiders," which he dispensed, with as few words as possible; then, taking Carrie on his arm, under an umbrella, he marched off at a great pace. Rick hoisted another over me, and we followed as fast as possible, but were inevitably distanced in the race.

Mrs. Thorne met us at the door with profuse regrets and condolences. We had a merry drying by the kitchen. fire, and plenty of vivacious talk from Rick afterward. I accepted, perforce, an invitation to spend the night; for all the celestial reservoirs seemed to be emptying themselves, as a preliminary step to a thorough renovation. At a tolerably late hour, Mrs. Thorne conducted me to a large, dusky room, filled with grim, old-fashioned furniture. I slept in a high-post bedstead; over which a heavy canopy and hangings of dark chintz brooded like a cloud. Beside it, stood a tall, high-backed chair, in such a position as to seem intended for the reception of some ghostly watcher. Perhaps it was this that made sleep so unresponsive to my call, and gave me ample time to think how strange it was that Mrs. Thorne should know Paul Venner!

XXVII.

IN THE BOWER.

HE morning was so clear and fair as to give color to the fancy that nature was trying

to make sweet amends for the storm of the preceding night. After breakfast, I announced my intention of proceeding immediately homeward; but Mrs. Thorne managed, somehow, to set its fulfilment aside, and to substitute a plan to visit some natural curiosity called "The Bower," in a neighboring bit of woods. This involved the necessity of waiting for the grass to dry, and another hour or two of Bryer and Thorne society, with a considerable preponderance, I thought, of Rick's. In due time, however, we set forth, Carrie linking her arm in mine, and her brother in advance, Half way across the first meadow we were stopped by Mrs. Thorne's voice.

"Carrie!" she called, with her head out of the window, "I want you, just for a moment or two. I forgot to measure your belt. Go on, Miss Frost, she will overtake you directly."

We went on, of course, but I had a singular feeling, for the moment, that Rick and Carrie and I were only puppets, whereof Mrs. Thorne pulled the wires!

"The Bower" was worth seeing, nevertheless. A luxuriant, wild grapevine had run up and down and across the