"Good work for them there, I suppose?"

"Capital. Moose, and wild-fowl, and fish, all of best quality. I wished I could have sent you some."

"Thank you for thinking of me. I should have liked the game too."

"Are you comfortable here?" he asked, lowering his voice. Just then the door opened; a man's head was put in, surveyed the two people in the room, and after a second's deliberation disappeared again.

"You have not this room to yourself?" inquired Dilhvyn.

"O no. It is public property."

"Then we may be interrupted?"

"At any minute. Do you want to talk to me, '_unter vier Augen_'?"

"I want no more, certainly. Yes, I came to talk to you; and I cannot, if people keep coming in." A woman's head had now shown itself for a moment. "I suppose in half an hour there will be a couple of old gentlemen here playing backgammon. I see a board. Have you not a corner to yourself?"

"I have a corner," she said, hesitating; "but it is only big enough to hold me. However, if you will promise to make no remarks, and to 'make believe,' as the children say, that the place is six times as large as it is, I will, for once take you to it. I would take no one else."

"The honour will not outweigh the pleasure," said Dillwyn as he rose.

"But why must I put such a force upon my imagination?"

"I do not want you to pity me. Do you mind going up two flights of stairs?"

"I would not mind going to the top of St. Peter's!"

"The prospect will be hardly like that."

She led the way up two flights of stairs. At the top of them, in the third story, she opened the door of a little end room, cut off the hall. Dillwyn waited outside till she had found her box of matches and lit a lamp; then she let him come in and shut the door. It was a little bit of a place indeed, about six feet by twelve. A table, covered with books and papers, hanging shelves with more books, a work-basket, a trunk converted into a divan by a cushion and chintz cover, and a rocking-chair, about filled the s.p.a.ce. Dillwyn took the divan, and Mrs.

Barclay the chair. Dillwyn looked around him.

"I should never dream of pitying the person who can be contented here,"

he said.

"Why?"

"The mental composition must be so admirable! I suppose you have another corner, where to sleep?"

"Yes," she said, smiling; "the other little room like this at the other end of the hall. I preferred this arrangement to having one larger room where I must sit and sleep both. Old habits are hard to get rid of. Now tell me more about the forests of Maine. I have always had a curiosity about that portion of the country."

He did gratify her for a while; told of his travels, and camping out; and of his hunting and fishing; and of the lovely scenery of the lakes and hills. He had been to the summit of Mount Kataydin, and he had explored the waters in 'birches;' and he told of odd specimens of humanity he had found on his way; but after a while of this talk Philip came suddenly back to his starting point.

"Mrs. Barclay, you are not comfortable here?"

"As well as I can expect," she said, in her quiet, sad manner. The sadness was not obtrusive, not on the surface; it was only the background to everything.

"But it is not comfort. I am not insulting you with pity, mind; but I am thinking. Would you not like better to be in the country? in some pleasant place?"

"You do not call this a pleasant place?" she said, with her faint smile. "Now I do. When I get up here, and shut the door, I am my own mistress."

"Would you not like the country?"

"It is out of my reach, Philip. I must do something, you know, to keep even this refuge."

"I think you said you would not be averse to doing something in the line of giving instruction?"

"If I had the right pupils. But there is no chance of that. There are too many compet.i.tors. The city is overstocked."

"We were talking of the country."

"Yes, but it is still less possible in the country. I could not find _there_ the sort of teaching I could do. All requisitions of that sort, people expect to have met in the city; and they come to the city for it,"

"I do not speak with certain'ty," said Philip, "but I _think_ I know a place that would suit you. Good air, pleasant country, comfortable quarters, and moderate charges. And if you went _there_, there is work."

"Where is it?"

"On the Connecticut sh.o.r.e--far down the Sound. Not too far from New York, though; perfectly accessible."

"Who lives there?"

"It is a New England village, and you know what those are. Broad gra.s.sy streets, and shadowy old elms, and comfortable houses; and the sea not far off. Quiet, and good air, and people with their intelligence alive.

There is even a library."

"And among these comfortable inhabitants, who would want to be troubled with me?"

"I think I know. I think I know just the house, where your coming would be a boon. They are _not_ very well-to-do. I have not asked, but I am inclined to believe they would be glad to have you."

"Who are they?"

"A household of women. The father and mother are dead; the grandmother is there yet, and there are three daughters. They are relations of an old friend of mine, indeed a connection of mine, in the city. So I know something about them."

"Not the people themselves?"

"Yes, I know the people,--so far as one specimen goes. I fancy they are people you could get along with."

Mrs. Barclay looked a little scrutinizingly at the young man. His face revealed nothing, more than a friendly solicitude. But he caught the look, and broke out suddenly with a change of subject.

"How do you women get along without cigars? What is your subst.i.tute?"

"What does the cigar, to you, represent?"

"Soothing and comforting of the nerves--aids to thought--powerful helps to good humour--something to do--"

"There! now you have it. Philip you are talking nonsense. Your nerves are as steady and sound as a granite mountain; you can think without help of any extraneous kind; your good-humour is quite as fair as most people's; but--you do want something to do! I cannot bear to have you waste your life in smoke, be it never so fragrant."

"What would you have me do?"

"Anything! so you were hard at work, and _doing_ work."