“My dear,” he answered, “a wise man kisses the girl first, and asks her afterwards.” Then he repeated the offence.
“I did mean to hate you, but I–I can’t.”
And now what a charming summer of sweet illusion and castle-building followed for the lovers! How Aunt Abby smiled benignly upon them, quite content to accord ample chance for wooing! How many blissful, dreamy hours they passed on lonely wave-washed cliffs, while the marvel of love was discussed! How its wondrous magic opened a new world whose walks were flower-decked, whose sky was ever serene, where lilies bloomed, birds sang, sea winds whispered of time and eternity, and where Chip was an adored queen! How all the shame and humiliation of her past life faded away and joy supreme entered on the azure and golden wings of this new morning! Even Old Cy was almost forgotten; the spites, Old Tomah, and Tim’s Place quite so; and all hope, all joy, all protection, and all her future centred in the will and wishes of this Prince Perfect.
“Blind and foolish,” I hear some fair critic say. Yes, more than that, almost idiotic; for selfish man never pursues unless forced to do so, and an object of worship once possessed, is but a summer flower.
CHAPTER XLI
“A man’ll hev all the friends he kin keer for if he tends to his own knittin’ work.”–Old Cy Walker.
Quite different from the meeting of the lovers was that which occurred when Old Cy reached Peaceful Valley. There were no heroics, no falling upon one another’s necks, no tears. Just a “Hullo, Cyrus!” “Hullo, Judson!” as these two brothers clasped hands, and forty years were bridged.