I HAD spoken confidently enough, while arguing the question ofDoctor Dulcifer's respectability with the Treasurer of the Duskydale Institution; but, if my perceptions had not been blindedby my enthusiastic admiration for Alicia, I think I should havesecretly distrusted my own opinion as soon as I was left bymyself. Had I been in full possession of my senses, I might havequestioned, on reflection, whether the doctor's method ofaccounting for the suspicions which kept his neighbors aloof fromhim, was quite satisfactory. Love is generally described, Ibelieve, as the tender passion. When I remember the insidiouslyrelaxing effect of it on all my faculties, I feel inclined toalter the popular definition, and to call it a moral vapor-bath.

What the Managing Committee of the Duskydale Institution thoughtof the change in me, I cannot imagine. The doctor and hisdaughter left the town on the day they had originally appointed,before I could make any excuse for calling again; and, as anecessary consequence of their departure, I lost all interest inthe affairs of the ball, and yawned in the faces of the committeewhen I was obliged to be present at their deliberations in myofficial capacity.

It was all Alicia with me, whatever they did. I read the Minutesthrough a soft medium of maize-colored skirts. Notes of melodiouslaughter bubbled, in my mind's ear, through all the drawling andstammering of our speech-making members. When our dignifiedPresident thought he had caught my eye, and made oratoricalovertures to me from the top of the table, I was lost in thecontemplation of silk purses and white fingers weaving them. Imeant "Alicia" when I said "hear, hear"--and when I officiallyproduced my subscription list, it was all aglow with the roseatehues of the marriage-license. If any unsympathetic male readersshould think this statement exaggerated, I appeal to theladies--

The night of the ball came. I have nothing but the vaguestrecollection of it.

I remember that the more the perverse lecture theater was warmedthe more persistently it smelled of damp plaster; and that themore brightly it was lighted, the more overgrown and lonesome itlooked. I can recall to mind that the company assembled numberedabout fifty, the room being big enough to hold three hundred. Ihave a vision still before me, of twenty out of these fiftyguests, solemnly executing intricate figure-dances, under thesuperintendence of an infirm local dancing-master--a mere speckof fidgety human wretchedness twisting about in the middle of anempty floor. I see, faintly, down the dim vista of the Past, anagreeable figure, like myself, with a cocked hat under its arm,black tights on its lightly tripping legs, a rosette in itsbuttonhole, and an engaging smile on its face, walking from endto end of the room, in the character of Master of the Ceremonies.These visions and events I can recall vaguely; and with them myremembrances of the ball come to a close. It was a completefailure, and that would, of itself, have been enough to sicken meof remaining at the Duskydale Institution, even if I had not hadany reasons of the tender sort for wishing to extend my travelsin rural England to the neighborhood of Barkingham.

The difficulty was how to find a decent pretext for getting away.Fortunately, the Managing Committee relieved me of any perplexityon this head, by passing a resolution, one day, which called uponthe President to remonstrate with me on my want of properinterest in the affairs of the Institution. I replied to theremonstrance that the affairs of the Institution were sohopelessly dull that it was equally absurd and unjust to expectany human being to take the smallest interest in them. At thisthere arose an indignant cry of "Resign!" from the wholecommittee; to which I answered politely, that I should bedelighted to oblige the gentlemen, and to go forthwith, oncondition of receiving a quarter's salary in the way of previouscompensation.

After a sordid opposition from an economical minority, mycondition of departure was accepted. I wrote a letter ofresignation, received in exchange twelve pounds ten shillings,and took my place, that same day, on the box-seat of theBarkingham mail.

Rather changeable this life of mine, was it not? Before I wastwenty-five years of age, I had tried doctoring, caricaturingportrait-painting, old picture-making, and Institution-managing;and now, with the help of Alicia, I was about to try how a littlemarrying would suit me. Surely, Shakespeare must have had meprophetically in his eye, when he wrote about "one man in histime playing many parts." What a character I should have made forhim, if he had only been alive now!

I found out from the coachman, among other matters, that therewas a famous fishing stream near Barkingham; and the first thingI did, on arriving at the town, was to buy a rod and line.

It struck me that my safest way of introducing myself would be totell Doctor Dulcifer that I had come to the neighborhood for alittle fishing, and so to prevent him from fancying that I wassuspiciously prompt in availing myself of his offeredhospitality. I put up, of course, at the inn--stuck a largeparchment book of flies half in and half out of the pocket of myshooting-jacket--and set off at once to the doctor's. The waiterof whom I asked my way stared distrustfully while he directed me.The people at the inn had evidently heard of my new friend, andwere not favorably disposed toward the cause of scientificinvestigation.

The house stood about a mile out of the town, in a dip of groundnear the famous fishing-stream. It was a lonely, old-fashionedred-brick building, surrounded by high walls, with a garden andplantation behind it.

As I rang at the gate-bell, I looked up at the house. Sure enoughall the top windows in front were closed with shutters andbarred. I was let in by a man in livery; who, however, in mannersand appearance, looked much more like a workman in disguise thana footman. He had a very suspicious eye, and he fixed it on meunpleasantly when I handed him my card.

I was shown into a morning-room exactly like other morning-roomsin country houses.

After a long delay the doctor came in, with scientific butchers'sleeves on his arms, and an apron tied round his portly waist. Heapologized for coming down in his working dress, and saideverything that was civil and proper about the pleasure ofunexpectedly seeing me again so soon. There was something ratherpreoccupied, I thought, in those brightly resolute eyes of his;but I naturally attributed it to the engrossing influence of hisscientific inquiries. He was evidently not at all taken in by mystory about coming to Barkingham to fish; but he saw, as well asI did, that it would do to keep up appearances, and contrived tolook highly interested immediately in my parchment-book. I askedafter his daughter. He said she was in the garden, and proposedthat we should go and find her. We did find her, with a pair ofscissors in her hand, outblooming the flowers that she wastrimming. She looked really glad to see me--her brown eyes beamedclear and kindly--she gave my hand another inestimable shake--thesummer breezes waved her black curls gently upward from herwaist--she had on a straw hat and a brown Holland gardeningdress. I eyed it with all the practical interest of alinendraper. O Brown Holland you are but a coarse and cheapfabric, yet how soft and priceless you look when clothing thefigure of Alicia!

I lunched with them. The doctor recurred to the subject of myangling intentions, and asked his daughter if she had heard whatparts of the stream at Barkingham were best for fishing in.

She replied, with a mixture of modest evasiveness and adorablesimplicity, that she had sometimes seen gentlemen angling from ameadow-bank about a quarter of a mile below her flower-garden. Irisked everything in my usual venturesome way, and asked if shewould show me where the place was, in case I called the nextmorning with my fishing-rod. She looked dutifully at her father.He smiled and nodded. Inestimable parent!

On rising to take leave, I was rather curious to know whether hewould o ffer me a bed in the house, or not. He detected thedirection of my thoughts in my face and manner, and apologizedfor not having a bed to offer me; every spare room in the housebeing occupied by his chemical assistants, and by the lumber oflaboratories. Even while he was speaking those few words,Alicia's face changed just as I had seen it change at our firstinterview. The downcast, gloomy expression overspread it again.Her father's eye wandered toward her when mine did, and suddenlyassumed the same distrustful look which I remembered detecting init, under similar circumstances, at Duskydale. What could thismean?

The doctor shook hands with me in the hall, leaving theworkman-like footman to open the door.

I stopped to admire a fine pair of stag's antlers. The footmancoughed impatiently. I still lingered, hearing the doctor'sfootsteps ascending the stairs. They suddenly stopped; and thenthere was a low heavy clang, like the sound of a closing doormade of iron, or of some other unusually strong material; thentotal silence, interrupted by another impatient cough from theworkman-like footman. After that, I thought my wisest proceedingwould be to go away before my mysterious attendant was driven topractical extremities.

Between thoughts of Alicia, and inquisitive yearnings to knowmore about the doctor's experiments, I passed rather a restlessnight at my inn.

The next morning, I found the lovely mistress of my destiny, withthe softest of shawls on her shoulders, the brightest of parasolsin her hand, and the smart little straw hat of the day before onher head, ready to show me the way to the fishing-place. If Icould be sure beforehand that these pages would only be read bypersons actually occupied in the making of love--that oldest andlongest-established of all branches of manufacturing industry--Icould go into some very tender and interesting particulars on thesubject of my first day's fishing, under the adorable auspices ofAlicia. But as I cannot hope for a wholly sympatheticaudience--as there may be monks, misogynists, politicaleconomists, and other professedly hard-hearted persons presentamong those whom I now address--I think it best to keep to safegeneralities, and to describe my love-making in as few sentencesas the vast, though soft, importance of the subject will allow meto use.

Let me confess, then, that I assumed the character of afastidious angler, and managed to be a week in discovering theright place to fish in--always, it is unnecessary to say, underAlicia's guidance. We went up the stream and down the stream, onone side. We crossed the bridge, and went up the stream and downthe stream on the other. We got into a punt, and went up thestream (with great difficulty), and down the stream (with greatease). We landed on a little island, and walked all round it, andinspected the stream attentively from a central point of view. Wefound the island damp, and went back to the bank, and up thestream, and over the bridge, and down the stream again; and then,for the first time, the sweet girl turned appealingly to me, andconfessed that she had exhausted her artless knowledge of thelocality. It was exactly a week from the day when I had firstfollowed her into the fields with my fishing-rod over myshoulder; and I had never yet caught anything but Alicia's hand,and that not with my hook.

We sat down close together on the bank, entirely in consequenceof our despair at not finding a good fishing-place. I looked atthe brown eyes, and they turned away observantly down the stream.I followed them, and they turned away inquiringly up the stream.Was this angel of patience and kindness still looking for afishing place? And was it

She tried faintly to free her hands--gave up theattempt--smiled--made an effort to look grave--gave that up,too--sighed suddenly--checked herself suddenly--said nothing.Perhaps I ought to have taken my answer for granted; but theleast business-like man that ever lived becomes an eminentlypractical character in matters of love. I repeated my question.She looked away confusedly; her eye lighted on a corner of herfather's red-brick house, peeping through a gap in the plantationalready mentioned; and her blushing cheeks lost their colorinstantly. I felt her hands grow cold; she drew them resolutelyout of mine, and rose with the tears in her eyes. Had I offendedher?

"No," she said when I asked her the question, and turned to meagain, and held out her hand with such frank, fearless kindness,that I almost fell on my knees to thank her for it.

Might I hope ever to hear her say "Yes" to the question that Ihad asked on the riverbank?

She sighed bitterly, and turned again toward the red-brick house.

Was there any family reason against her saying "Yes"? Anythingthat I must not inquire into? Any opposition to be dreaded fromher father?

The moment I mentioned her father, she shrank away from me andburst into a violent fit of crying.

"Don't speak of it again!" she said in a broken voice. "Imustn't--you mustn't--ah, don't, don't say a word more about it!I'm not distressed with you--it is not your fault. Don't sayanything--leave me quiet for a minute. I shall soon be better ityou leave me quiet."

She dried her eyes directly, with a shiver as if it was cold, andtook my arm. I led her back to the house-gate; and then, feelingthat I could not go in to lunch as usual, after what hadhappened, said I would return to the fishing-place.

"Shall I come to dinner this evening?" I asked, as I rang thegate-bell for her.

"Oh, yes--yes!--do come, or he--"

The mysterious man-servant opened the door, and we parted beforeshe could say the next words.