“Do you know,” said Beth, “Miss de Vere has told me that there is a vacant room at her boarding-house.  She is quite sure she can get it for me this winter.  Isn’t she kind?  I believe we shall be great friends.”

“Yes, you will enjoy her friendship.  She is a clever artist and musician, you know.  Edith says she lives a sort of Bohemian life in Toronto.  Her rooms are littered with music and painting and literature.”

“How nice!  Her face looks as if she had a story, too.  There’s something sad in her eyes.”

“She struck me as being remarkably lively,” said Clarence.

“Oh, yes, but there are lively people who have secret sorrows.  Look, there she is walking with Arthur toward the lake.”

Clarence smiled for a moment.

“Perhaps fate may see fit to link them together,” he said.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so!  I can’t imagine it.”

“Grafton’s a fine fellow, isn’t he?”

“I’m glad you like him so well, Clarence.  He’s just like my brother, you know.  We had such an earnest talk Sunday night.  He made me feel, oh, I don’t know how.  But do you know, my life isn’t consecrated to God, Clarence; is yours?”

They were walking under the stars of the open night, and Clarence looked thoughtful for a moment, then answered unhesitatingly: 

“No, Beth.  I settled that long ago.  I don’t think we need to be consecrated.  So long as we are Christians and live fairly consistent lives, I think that suffices.  Of course, with people like Arthur Grafton it is different.  But as for us we are consecrated to art, you know, in the shape of writing.  Let us make the utmost of our talents.”

“Yes, we are consecrated to art,” said Beth with a sigh of relief, and began talking of Marie.

Since Beth was to leave home in the fall, she did not go away during the summer, and consequently saw much of Marie during the few weeks she stayed at Briarsfield.  It is strange how every life we come in contact with leaves its impress upon ourselves!  It was certainly so with Marie and Beth.  Marie had seen so much of the world and of human life, and Beth had always lived so quietly there in her own village, that now a restlessness took possession of her to get away far beyond the horizon of Briarsfield.

The days passed on as days will pass.  Clarence was home most of the time, and he and Beth had many walks together in the twilight, and sometimes in the morning.  What delightful walks they were in the cool of the early summer morning!  There was one especially pretty spot where they used to rest along the country road-side.  It was a little hill-top, with the ground sloping down on either side, then rising again in great forest-crowned hills.  Two oak trees, side by side, shaded them as they watched the little clouds sailing over the harvest fields.

Arthur was with them a great deal of the summer, and Beth was occupied with preparations for leaving home.  She used to talk to Arthur about Marie sometimes, but he disappointed her by his coldness.  She fancied that he did not altogether approve of Marie.