“Why did you not go to rest, Rosalie?”
“Why, at first I was not sleepy; and I heard that there were strangers in the next room—or, rather, on the other side of the blankets—and it seemed so odd. I could not get used to the thought in a minute, Mark.”
He answered with a laugh and said, as he looked around—
“Yes, it is rather a rude place, with rather primitive accommodations, for the first and best hotel in the great city of Shelton. But, never mind; wait a bit. In a year or two you shall see this house well and completely finished, within and without, and the rooms all properly and comfortably fitted up and furnished, and the establishment provided with suitable waiters and chamber-maids; and in half-a-dozen years the host will probably have made his fortune.”
“Well, Mark, and what success have you had this afternoon?”
“The best success. I have found a house, which I think will suit us exactly. Come to the window for a moment again. Do you see, immediately under the moon, that distant grove, that looks as if it were just against the horizon? You see the trees stand up straight and dark against the sky?”
“Yes, I see it.”
“That is Wolf’s Grove. It is not more than three miles from here. I can easily walk the distance twice a day. There is one building on the spot—a large log cabin, that was put up for a meeting-house, but has fallen into disuse since the rise of this village. The cabin is in good repair, and I have already engaged it. So, dear wife, we have only to wait for the arrival of our little furniture, to go to housekeeping. And to-morrow we will go over to Wolf’s Grove, and review the premises.”
CHAPTER XX.
THE LOG CABIN.
“A summer lodge amid the wild.”—Bryant.