“Well, I should be willing to, if it were a necessity, just as I would go to war and do what I could, if the country couldn’t be saved otherwise,” said Alice, with a spirit that surprised Philip, well as he thought he knew her.  “If I were a young gentleman in these times—­”

Philip laughed outright.  “It’s just what Ruth used to say, ’if she were a man.’  I wonder if all the young ladies are contemplating a change of sex.”

“No, only a changed sex,” retorted Alice; “we contemplate for the most part young men who don’t care for anything they ought to care for.”

“Well,” said Philip, looking humble, “I care for some things, you and Ruth for instance; perhaps I ought not to.  Perhaps I ought to care for Congress and that sort of thing.”

“Don’t be a goose, Philip.  I heard from Ruth yesterday.”

“Can I see her letter?”

“No, indeed.  But I am afraid her hard work is telling on her, together with her anxiety about her father.”

“Do you think, Alice,” asked Philip with one of those selfish thoughts that are not seldom mixed with real love, “that Ruth prefers her profession to—­to marriage?”

“Philip,” exclaimed Alice, rising to quit the room, and speaking hurriedly as if the words were forced from her, “you are as blind as a bat; Ruth would cut off her right hand for you this minute.”

Philip never noticed that Alice’s face was flushed and that her voice was unsteady; he only thought of the delicious words he had heard.  And the poor girl, loyal to Ruth, loyal to Philip, went straight to her room, locked the door, threw herself on the bed and sobbed as if her heart world break.  And then she prayed that her Father in Heaven would give her strength.  And after a time she was calm again, and went to her bureau drawer and took from a hiding place a little piece of paper, yellow with age.  Upon it was pinned a four-leaved clover, dry and yellow also.  She looked long at this foolish memento.  Under the clover leaf was written in a school-girl’s hand—­“Philip, June, 186-.”

Squire Montague thought very well of Philip’s proposal.  It would have been better if he had begun the study of the law as soon as he left college, but it was not too late now, and besides he had gathered some knowledge of the world.

“But,” asked the Squire, “do you mean to abandon your land in Pennsylvania?” This track of land seemed an immense possible fortune to this New England lawyer-farmer.  Hasn’t it good timber, and doesn’t the railroad almost touch it?”

“I can’t do anything with it now.  Perhaps I can sometime.”

“What is your reason for supposing that there is coal there?”

“The opinion of the best geologist I could consult, my own observation of the country, and the little veins of it we found.  I feel certain it is there.  I shall find it some day.  I know it.  If I can only keep the land till I make money enough to try again.”