He came trippingly along, inquiring for David.  Mary Ellen blushed some.  I saw that their acquaintance had commenced the night before.  He chatted a little with the old folks, but directed most of his talk to Mary Ellen, that he might have an excuse for looking her full in the face, and drinking in her beauty.  I saw him seat himself on the flat stone.  I saw him glance admiringly at the pretty white hands, handling so daintily the green pods.  I saw him show her how to make a boat of one, putting in sticks for the thwarts.  And finally, I saw David come round the house and stop short.

Warren sprang up.

“Waiting for you, David,” said he.  “Tide coming, stiff breeze.  We can be on Jake’s Ledge in a twinkling.”

And passing over a high hill, on my way to the Square, I saw the sloop-boat, with flag flying, putting off towards Jake’s Ledge.

For the next two months the Doctor’s boy walked straight in the path which my prophetic vision had marked out for him.  Morning, noon, and evening brought him paddling across “the Crick,” or footing it round by the shore-way.

Emily and I were troubled.  We had once feared that our good brother and friend would pass through life as a blind man wanders through a flower-garden, lost to its chief beauty and sweetness.  But his eyes had been opened.  And now was his life-path to lead him into a thorny wilderness? was a worse darkness to settle down upon him?

I fancied there was a hopeless look in his face,—­that he shrank into himself more than ever.  The Doctor’s boy had fairer gifts than he to offer, and no lack of well-chosen words.  It was with the utmost uneasiness that I caught, occasionally, some of these telling phrases.  I liked not his air of devotedness, his eye constantly following Mary Ellen’s movements.  I liked not the flower-gatherings, the rambles among the rocks, the rowing by moonlight.  Emily’s short sentence came often to mind, “I fear.”

For I felt almost sure that Warren Luce was in earnest,—­that he was deeply and truly in love with Mary Ellen.  Not that he intended this at first, but that her beauty conquered him.  Most likely this was the first of his knowing he had a heart, ’twas so small.  Still, ’twas the best thing he had, and appeared to hold considerable love for one of its size.

And how was it with Mary Ellen?  Ah, she was enough to puzzle a justice!  I was not long, though, in perceiving that this unenlightened maiden felt instinctively that her personal appearance should be attended to a little more carefully than when only David was to admire.  Her hair was always in nice order, and I observed that even in the morning she would have some bit of muslin or lace-work peeping from beneath her short sleeve.  I hope there is no harm in saying that I had, even before this, noticed the shapeliness of her arm.  I think I was struck with it the first morning, when she came across the entry.