Alice looked up, with a touch of her old eagerness, as Uncle John went on.

“It was long before you were born, my dear, that, for some college peccadilloes,—­it is so long ago that I have almost forgotten now what they were,—­I was suspended (rusticated we called it) for a term, and advised by the grave and dignified president to spend my time in repenting and in keeping up with my class.  I had no mind to come home; I had no wish, by my presence, to keep the memory of my misdemeanors before my father’s mind for six months; so I asked and gained leave to spend the summer in a little town in Western Massachusetts, where, as I said, I should have nothing to tempt me from my studies.  I had heard from a classmate what famous shooting and fishing were to be found there, and I knew something of the beauty of Berkshire scenery; but I honorably intended to study well and faithfully, taking only the moderate amount of recreation necessary for my health.

“I went, and soon established myself in a quiet farm-house with my books, gun, and fishing-rod, and had passed there a whole month with an approving conscience and tolerable success both in studies and sport, when the farmer announced one morning, that, as he had one boarder, he might as well take another, and that a New York lady had been inquiring of his neighbor Johnson, when he was in the city last week, for some farm-house where they would be willing to take her cheap for the summer.  She could have the best room, and he didn’t suppose she’d be in anybody’s way, so he had told Johnson that she might come, if she would put up with their country fare.

“She came the next week.  She was a widow, some thirty years old, ten years older than I was.  I did not think her pretty,—­perhaps piquante, but that was all.  In my first fastidiousness, I thought her hardly lady-like, and laughed at her evident attempts to attract my notice,—­at her little vanities and affectations.  But I do not know; we were always together; I saw no other woman but the farmer’s wife.  There were the mountain walks, the trees, the flowers, the moonlight; she talked so well upon them all!  In short, you do not know, no young girl can know, the influence which a woman in middle life, if she has anything in her, has over a young man; and she,—­she had shrewdness and a certain talent, and, I think now, knew what she was doing,—­at any rate, I fell madly in love.  I knew my father would never consent to my marrying then; I knew I was ruining my prospects by doing so; but that very knowledge only made me more eager to secure her.

“She was entirely independent of control, being left a widow with some little property, and threw no obstacles in my way.  We were married there, in that little village, and for a few weeks I lived in a fool’s paradise.