CHAPTER IV.
_MARIE._
"Isn't she pretty?"
"She's picturesque looking."
"Pretty? picturesque? I think she's ugly!"
These were the varied opinions of a group of Briarsfield girls who wereat the station when the evening train stopped. The object of theirremarks was a slender girl whom the Mayfairs received with warmth. Itwas Marie de Vere--graceful, brown-eyed, with a small olive face anddaintily dressed brown hair. This was the girl that Beth and Arthur wereintroduced to when they went to the Mayfairs to tea a few days later.Beth recalled the last evening she was there to tea. Only a few days hadsince passed, and yet how all was changed!
"Do you like Miss de Vere?" asked Clarence, after Beth had enjoyed along conversation with her.
"Oh, yes! I'm just delighted with her! She has such kind eyes, and sheseems to understand one so well!"
"You have fallen in love at first sight. The pleasure on your face makesup for the long time I have waited to get you alone. Only I wish youwould look at me like you looked at Miss de Vere just now," he said,trying to look dejected.
She laughed. Those little affectionate expressions always pleased her,for she wondered sometimes if Clarence could be a cold and unresponsivehusband. He was not a very ardent lover, and grey-eyed, intellectualBeth Woodburn had a love-hungering heart, though few people knew it.
"Do you know," said Beth, "Miss de Vere has told me that there is avacant room at her boarding-house. She is quite sure she can get it forme this winter. Isn't she kind? I believe we shall be great friends."
"Yes, you will enjoy her friendship. She is a clever artist andmusician, you know. Edith says she lives a sort of Bohemian life inToronto. Her rooms are littered with music and painting and literature."
"How nice! Her face looks as if she had a story, too. There's somethingsad in her eyes."
"She struck me as being remarkably lively," said Clarence.
"Oh, yes, but there are lively people who have secret sorrows. Look,there she is walking with Arthur toward the lake."
Clarence smiled for a moment.
"Perhaps fate may see fit to link them together," he said.
"Oh, no, I don't think so! I can't imagine it."
"Grafton's a fine fellow, isn't he?"
"I'm glad you like him so well, Clarence. He's just like my brother, youknow. We had such an earnest talk Sunday night. He made me feel, oh, Idon't know how. But do you know, my life isn't consecrated to God,Clarence; is yours?"
They were walking under the stars of the open night, and Clarence lookedthoughtful for a moment, then answered unhesitatingly:
"No, Beth. I settled that long ago. I don't think we need to beconsecrated. So long as we are Christians and live fairly consistentlives, I think that suffices. Of course, with people like Arthur Graftonit is different. But as for us we are consecrated to art, you know, inthe shape of writing. Let us make the utmost of our talents."
"Yes, we are consecrated to art," said Beth with a sigh of relief, andbegan talking of Marie.
Since Beth was to leave home in the fall, she did not go away during thesummer, and consequently saw much of Marie during the few weeks shestayed at Briarsfield. It is strange how every life we come in contactwith leaves its impress upon ourselves! It was certainly so with Marieand Beth. Marie had seen so much of the world and of human life, andBeth had always lived so quietly there in her own village, that now arestlessness took possession of her to get away far beyond the horizonof Briarsfield.
The days passed on as days will pass. Clarence was home most of thetime, and he and Beth had many walks together in the twilight, andsometimes in the morning. What delightful walks they were in the cool ofthe early summer morning! There was one especially pretty spot wherethey used to rest along the country road-side. It was a little hill-top,with the ground sloping down on either side, then rising again in greatforest-crowned hills. Two oak trees, side by side, shaded them as theywatched the little clouds sailing over the harvest fields.
Arthur was with them a great deal of the summer, and Beth was occupiedwith preparations for leaving home. She used to talk to Arthur aboutMarie sometimes, but he disappointed her by his coldness. She fanciedthat he did not altogether approve of Marie.