"Cut out that last proposition, Fred! I'm the harum-scarumest girl on earth and I know it. I'd be a real handicap to you, or any other man. Gracious! Why didn't you tell me you were going to make love to me and I'd have put on my other suit. I'll never forgive you for this, Fred Holton; it's taking an unkind advantage!"
"I don't believe you think I mean it!" he cried despairingly, as her gaze wandered across the fields to the far horizon.
"If I thought you didn't, I should never speak to you again," she declared severely, meeting his eyes.
"The corn was glad
When he had told his love. The evening star
Chortled in joy. The cattle on the hills—
"Oh, come on, Fred, and let's stop foolishing!"
"Please, Phil? If only you cared a little!" he pleaded forlornly.
"A little! I care a whole lot about you! I respect you and admire you; and I suppose, to be real frank about it, I love you a little tiny bit. But as for marrying you or anybody else—that's different, oh, very different! You see, Fred," she continued, abruptly abandoning her half-chaffing tone, "the ice is too thin; it makes me shudder to think of it! Instead of people being settled when they get married, it seems to make them nervous. I'm going to study and work and work and work! I want to see what kind of a life I can build up for myself—and then I want to stand off and look at it—a good long look before I allow anybody else to have a share in it. That's all of that, Fred."
"But, Phil."
As she started toward the house he stepped quickly in front of her. The shadows deepened round them, and the wind whispered in the corn. The rattle of a wagon descending Listening Hill reached them faintly and Phil lifted her head at the vague, blurred sound. After her brave speech a mood of loneliness swept her heart, and the cheer with which she had lately fortified herself against depression failed to respond to her summons. She had no control over the lives of her mother and father. The one beyond the sea was not more hopelessly remote than the other in his camp by the creek. They and all the others who were near and dear—Amzi, even, and Nan and Rose—seemed strangely beyond her reach. The fields, the woodlands etched darkly against the sky, suddenly became Fred's allies. He was of kin to them; he had confessed in their later talks to a simple spiritual faith born of contact with the earth, the study of its secrets, the pondering of its mysteries. With him there would be peace and security. Her heart ached with tenderness and longing. The qualities her nature lacked he supplied, and love and faith like his were not lightly to be put aside. Fred in the dusk before her took form in her mind as a refuge and hope. He was big and strong and kind; he loved her and it was sweet to be loved by him. He took her hands, that fluttered and became still like two forlorn birds; and then her arms stole round his neck in a tight clasp.
"Dear Fred!" she cried, half-sobbing; "don't you ever leave me!"