“Arthur is going to take me over to the island this week,” said Beth.

They had just reached a little cliff jutting out over the water.  It was, perhaps, one of the most picturesque scenes on the shores of Lake Erie.

“Wouldn’t it be grand to be on this cliff and watch a thunderstorm coming up over the lake?” said Beth.

“You are very daring Beth—­Miss Woodburn.  Edith would rather hide her head under the blankets.”

“Do you know, I really love thunderstorms,” continued Beth.  “It is such a nice safe feeling to lie quiet and sheltered in bed and hear the thunder crash and the storm beat outside.  Somehow, I always feel more deeply that God is great and powerful, and that the world has a live ruler.”  She stopped rather suddenly.  Clarence never touched on religious subjects in conversation—­

“Dear, what a ducking Arthur and I got in a thunderstorm one time.  We were out hazel-nutting and—­”

“Do you always call Mr. Grafton Arthur?” interrupted Clarence, a little impatiently.

“Oh, yes!  Why, how funny it would seem to call Arthur Mr. Grafton!”

“Beth”—­he grew paler and his voice almost trembled,—­“Beth, do you love Arthur Grafton?”

“Love Arthur!  Why, dear, no!  I never thought of it.  He’s just like my brother.  Besides,” she continued after a pause, “Arthur is going away off somewhere to be a missionary, and I don’t think I could be happy if I married a man who wasn’t a writer.”

That was very naive of Beth.  She forgot Clarence’s literary pretensions.

“Then can you love me, Beth?  Don’t you see that I love you?”

There was a moment’s silence.  Their eyes met in a long, earnest look.  An impulse of tenderness came over her, and she threw both arms about his neck as he clasped her to his breast.  The stars were shining above and the water breaking at their feet.  They understood each other without words.

“Oh, Clarence, I am so happy, so very happy!”

The night air wafted the fragrance of roses about them like incense.  They walked on along the shore, happy lovers, weaving their life-dreams under the soft sky of that summer night.

“I wonder if anyone else is as happy as we are, Beth!”

“Oh, Clarence, how good we ought to be!  I mean to always be kinder and to try and make other people happy, too.”

“You are good, Beth.  May God bless our lives.”

She had never seen Clarence so earnest and manly before.  Yes, she was very much in love, she told herself.

They talked much on the way back to the house.  He told her that his father was not so wealthy as many people supposed; that it would be several years before he himself could marry.  But Beth’s brow was not clouded.  She wanted her college course, and somehow Clarence seemed so much more manly with a few difficulties to face.

A faint sound of music greeted them as they reached the house.  Edith was playing her guitar.  Mrs. Mayfair met them on the veranda.