In this rude awakening Jane's heart-strings
tightened. She became suddenly conscious that the
Cobden look had faded out of him; Lucy's eyes and
hair were his, and so was her rounded chin, with its
dimple, but there was nothing else about him that
recalled either her own father or any other Cobden
she remembered. As he came near enough for her
to look into his eyes she began to wonder how he would
impress Lucy, what side of his nature would she love
best--his courage and strength or his tenderness?
The sound of his voice shouting her name recalled
her to herself, and a thrill of pride illumined
her happy face like a burst of sunlight as he tossed
his tarpaulins on the grass and put his strong arms
about her.
"Mother, dear! forty black bass, eleven weakfish,
and half a barrel of small fry--what do you think
of that?"
"Splendid, Archie. Tod must be proud as a
peacock. But look at this!" and she held up the
letter. "Who do you think it's from? Guess now,"
and she locked one arm through his, and the two
strolled back to the house.
"Guess now!" she repeated, holding the letter
behind her back. The two were often like lovers
together.
"Let me see," he coaxed.
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