Under the arching heavens of the afternoon swift passing, and the voices of children and women, The many-moving seatides, and I saw the ships how they sail'd, And the summer approaching with richness, and the fields all busy with labor, And the infinite separate houses, how they all went on, each with its meals and minutia of daily usages, And the streets how their throbbings throbb'd, and the cities pent--lo, then and there, Falling upon them all and among them all, enveloping me with the rest, Appear'd the cloud, appear'd the long black trail, And I knew death, its thought, and the sacred knowledge of death.'" "But, oh!" cried Pearl, "he can write rhyming verses, too. This 'O Captain! My Captain!' He must have loved Mr. Lincoln. It makes me cry to read _that_ one. This about the lilacs--of course, it isn't about lilacs, only lilac time--thrills me, makes me _feel_." "Ah, Pearly," murmured Helmford, "that is the acid test of all poetry." Then he brought himself up "all a-standing," How was he talking to this girl? How was he thinking of her? This girl who seemed to him to possess only a certain beauty to recommend her? Was she, after all, like these other Cardhaven girls he had met? Her sweet face was alive with interest. Her eyes glowed. Her figure palpitated before him, the full bosom rising and falling as the waves of feeling pressed on her while he read the lines. "Isn't it wonderful? Isn't it beautiful?" sighed Pearl, when he had finished. Her hand outstretched for the book met his lightly as he released the volume. The touch thrilled them both. Helmford sat forward in his chair. A flush mounted from the turned-back neck of her simple gown and flooded all her throat and face. And at that instant, with their hands almost clasped, Tom Petty abruptly opened the door. "What did I tell you, Marm?" snarled the lout, as the startled pair sprang apart. "Here she is." Sarah Petty, her sharp face seemingly sharper than ever, thrust herself into the room before her son. "Pearl Holden, you march yourself down to the kitchen! I want to see you, my gal. No! Leave that book here. I won't have you foolin' away your time on books when you leave ha'f your work undone. Go 'long, now, I tell you." The girl went by her with flaming face and tear-bedewed eyes. To be thus spoken to before Mr. Helmford seemed hard indeed to bear. Helmford arose promptly. There was something on the tip of his tongue that perhaps he would better have said. His mild look was gone and his shell-rimmed spectacles did not hide the sternness of his expression as he asked Tom: "Did you wish to see me for anything?" "Naw. I don't want to see you," sneered the scowling youth. "When next you come to my room, _knock_," said Helmford. He turned his shoulder to them both and sat down again in his easy chair before the fire, picking up the book Pearl's slim fingers had so recently held.