"I like her," said Verty, tenderly, "because she likes you, Redbud. I like Ralph, too--don't you?"

"Oh, yes--I think he is very pleasant and agreeable; he has just come from college, and f.a.n.n.y says, has greatly improved--though," whispered Redbud, bending toward Verty, and smiling, "she says, when he is present, that he has _not_ improved; just the opposite."

Verty sighed.

The delicate little face of Redbud was turned toward him inquiringly.

"Verty, you sighed," she said.

"Did I?" said Verty.

"Yes."

Verty sighed again.

"Tell me what troubles you," said Redbud, softly.

"Nothing--nothing," replied Verty; "I was only thinking about college, you know."

"About college?"

"Yes."

And Verty repeated the sigh.

"Tell me your thoughts," said Redbud, earnestly.

"I was only thinking," returned her companion, "that there was no chance of my ever going to college, and I should like to know how I am to be a learned man without having an education."

Redbud sighed too.

"But perhaps," she said, "you might make yourself learned without going to college."

Verty shook his head.

"You are not so ignorant as you think," Redbud said, softly. "I know many persons as old as you are, who--who--are not half as--intelligent."

Verty repeated the shake of his head.

"I may know as much as the next one about hunting," he said; "and _ma mere_ says that none of her tribe had as much knowledge of the habits of the deer. Yes! yes! that is something--to know all about life in the autumn woods, the grand life which, some day, will be told about in great poetry, or ought to be. But what good is there in only knowing how to follow the deer, or watch for the turkeys, or kill bears, as I used to before the neighborhood was filled up? I want to be a learned man. I don't think anybody would, or ought to, marry me,"

added Verty, sighing.

Redbud laughed, and colored.

"Perhaps you can go to college, though," she said.

"I'm afraid not," said Verty; "but I won't complain. Why should I?

Besides, I would have to leave you all here, and I never could make up my mind to that."

("Let it go, Ralph!" from f.a.n.n.y.

To which the individual addressed, replies:

"Oh, certainly, by all means, darling of my heart!")

Redbud smiled.

"I think we are very happy here," she said; "there cannot be anything in the Lowlands prettier than the mountains--"

"Oh! I know there is not!" exclaimed Verty, with the enthusiasm of the true mountaineer.

"Besides," said Redbud, taking advantage of this return to brighter thoughts, "I don't think learning is so important, Verty. It often makes us forget simple things, and think we are better than the rest of the world--"

"Yes," said Verty.

"That is wrong, you know. I think that it would be dearly bought, if we lost charity by getting it," said the girl, earnestly.

Verty looked thoughtful, and leaning his head on his hand, said:

"I don't know but I prefer the mountains, then. Redbud, I think if I saw a great deal of you, you would make me good--"

"Oh! I'm afraid--"

"I'd read my Bible, and think about G.o.d," Verty said.

"Don't you now, Verty?"

"Yes; I read."

"But don't you think?"

Verty shook his head.

"I can't remember it often," he replied. "I know I ought."

Redbud looked at him with her soft, kind eyes, and said:

"But you pray?"

"Sometimes."

"Not every night?"

"No."

Redbud looked pained;

"Oh! you ought to," she said.