There was a certain light, graceful, inimitable habit of the world and of society; familiarity with all the pretty and refined ways and uses of the more refined portions of society; knowledge and practice of proprieties, as the above-mentioned cla.s.ses of the world recognize them; which all seemed to Lois greatly desirable and becoming. Nay, the said "proprieties" and so forth were not always of the most important kind; Miss Caruthers could be what Lois considered coolly rude, upon occasion; and her mother could be carelessly impolite; and Mr. Lenox could be wanting in the delicate regard which a gentleman should show to a lady; "I suppose," thought Lois, "he did not think I would know any better." In these things, these essential things, some of the farmers of Shampuashuh and their wives were the peers at least, if not the superiors, of these fine ladies and gentlemen. But in lesser things! These people knew how to walk gracefully, sit gracefully, eat gracefully. Their manner and address in all the little details of life, had the ease, and polish, and charm which comes of use, and habit, and confidence. The way Mr. Lenox and Tom would give help to a lady in getting over the rough rocks of Appledore; the deference with which they would attend to her comfort and provide for her pleasure; the grace of a bow, the good breeding of a smile; the ease of action which comes from trained physical and practised mental nature; these and a great deal more, even the details of dress and equipment which are only possible to those who know how, and which are instantly seen to be excellent and becoming, even by those who do not know how; all this had appealed mightily to Lois's nature, and raised in her longings and regrets more or less vague, but very real. All that, she would like to have. She wanted the familiarity with books, and also the familiarity with the world, which some people had; the secure _a plomb_ and the easy facility of manner which are so imposing and so attractive to a girl like Lois. She felt that to these people life was richer, larger, wider than to her; its riches more at command; the standpoint higher from which to take a view of the world; the facility greater which could get from the world what it had to give. And it was a closed door before which Lois stood. Truly on her side of the door there was very much that she had and they had not; she knew that, and did not fail to recognize it and appreciate it. What was the Lord's beautiful creation to them? a place to kill time in, and get rid of it as fast as possible. The ocean, to them, was little but a great bath-tub; or a very inconvenient separating medium, which prevented them from going constantly to Paris and Rome. To judge by all that appeared, the sky had no colours for them, and the wind no voices, and the flowers no speech. And as for the Bible, and the hopes and joys which take their source there, they knew no more of it _so_ than if they had been Mahometans. They took no additional pleasure in the things of the natural world, because those things were made by a Hand that they loved. Poor people! and Lois knew they were poor; and yet--she said to herself, and also truly, that the possession of her knowledge would not be lessened by the possession of _theirs_. And a little pensiveness mingled for a few days with her enjoyment of Appledore. Meanwhile Mrs.

Wishart was getting well.

"So they have all gone!" she said, a day or two after the Caruthers party had taken themselves away.

"Yes, and Appledore seems, you can't think how lonely," said Lois. She had just come in from a ramble.

"You saw a great deal of them, dear?"

"Quite a good deal. Did you ever see such bright pimpernel? Isn't it lovely?"

"I don't understand how Tom could get away."

"I believe he did not want to go."

"Why didn't you keep him?"

"I!" said Lois with an astonished start. "Why should I keep him, Mrs.

Wishart?"

"Because he likes you so much."

"Does he?" said Lois a little bitterly.

"Yes! Don't you like him? How do you like him, Lois?"

"He is nice, Mrs. Wishart. But if you ask me, I do not think he has enough strength of character."

"If Tom has let them carry him off against his will, he _is_ rather weak."

Lois made no answer. Had he? and had they done it? A vague notion of what might be the truth of the whole transaction floated in and out of her mind, and made her indignant. Whatever one's private views of the danger may be, I think no one likes to be taken care of in this fashion. Of course Tom Caruthers was and could be nothing to her, Lois said to herself; and of course she could be nothing to him; but that his friends should fear the contrary and take measures to prevent it, stirred her most disagreeably. Yes; if things had gone _so_, then Tom certainly was weak; and it vexed her that he should be weak. Very inconsistent, when it would have occasioned her so much trouble if he had been strong! But when is human nature consistent? Altogether this visit to Appledore, the pleasure of which began so spicily, left rather a flat taste upon her tongue; and she was vexed at that.

There was another person who probably thought Tom weak, and who was curious to know how he had come out of this trial of strength with his relations; but Mr. Dillwyn had wandered off to a distance, and it was not till a month later that he saw any of the Caruthers. By that time they were settled in their town quarters for the winter, and there one evening he called upon them. He found only Julia and her mother.

"By the way," said he, when the talk had rambled on for a while, "how did you get on at the Isles of Shoals?"

"We had an awful time," said Julia. "You cannot conceive of anything so slow."

"How long did you stay?"

"O, ages! We were there four or five weeks. Imagine, if you can.

Nothing but sea and rocks, and no company!"

"No company! What kept you there?"

"O, Tom!"

"What kept Tom?"

"Mrs. Wishart got sick, you see, and couldn't get away, poor soul! and that made her stay so long."

"And you had to stay too, to nurse her?"

"No, nothing of that. Miss Lothrop was there, and she did the nursing; and then a ridiculous aunt of hers came to help her."

"You staid for sympathy?"

"Don't be absurd, Philip! You know we were kept by Tom. We could not get him away."

"What made Tom want to stay?"

"O, that girl."

"How did you get him away at last?"

"Just because we stuck to him. No other way. He would undoubtedly have made a fool of himself with that girl--he was just ready to do it--but we never left him a chance. George and I, and mother, we surrounded him," said Julia, laughing; "we kept close by him; we never left them alone. Tom got enough of it at last, and agreed, very melancholy, to come away. He is dreadfully in the blues yet."

"You have a good deal to answer for, Julia."

"Now, don't, Philip! That's what George says. It is _too_ absurd. Just because she has a pretty face. All you men are bewitched by pretty faces."

"She has a good manner, too."

"Manner? She has no manner at all; and she don't know anything, out of her garden. We have saved Tom from a great danger. It would be a terrible thing, perfectly _terrible_, to have him marry a girl who is not a lady, nor even an educated woman."

"You think you could not have made a lady of her?"

"Mamma, do hear Philip! isn't he too bad? Just because that girl has a little beauty. I wonder what there is in beauty, it turns all your heads! Mamma, do you hear Mr. Dillwyn? he wishes we had let Tom have his head and marry that little gardening girl."

"Indeed I do not," said Philip seriously. "I am very glad you succeeded in preventing it But allow me to ask if you are sure you _have_ succeeded? Is it quite certain Tom will not have his head after all? He may cheat you yet."

"O no! He's very melancholy, but he has given it up. If he don't, we'll take him abroad in the spring. I think he has given it up. His being melancholy looks like it."

"True. I'll sound him when I get a chance."

The chance offered itself very soon; for Tom came in, and when Dillwyn left the house, Tom went to walk with him. They sauntered along Fifth Avenue, which was pretty full of people still, enjoying the mild air and beautiful starlight.

"Tom, what did you do at the Isles of Shoals?" Mr. Dillwyn asked suddenly.

"Did a lot of fishing. Capital trolling."

"All your fishing done on the high seas, eh?"

"All my successful fishing."

"What was the matter? Not a faint heart?"

"No. It's disgusting, the whole thing!" Tom broke out with hearty emphasis.

"You don't like to talk about it? I'll spare you, if you say so."