"My mother will be satisfied with whatever is to result in my happiness. This is the only thing in my life I have ever intensely desired." "Think it over—well over. You may change your mind." "I have thought it over. You remember when I climbed Mt. Marsy with Haller. The night we spent on the summit—I never closed my eyes. In the morning I watched the sun rise over the forests, mountains and lakes. Such a young, rejoicing world! And I stood above it all, sleepless, miserable, old! The questions I had asked all night seemed vain and trivial. I was simply answered. ’Be happy!’ said the new-born world, bathed in dew and light." "I promised your mother to look after you," insisted Lord Stafford, weakly. His nephew put up his hand in laughing remonstrance, then grew instantly grave. "Do you remember that log I threw in the Notch? How it was tossed and whirled onward, like a leaf, by the might of the falls? I am as helpless in the force that has now taken possession of me. I have ceased to reason. I am going—wherever the falls will send me." He drank deeply from the glass which stood at his elbow, Lord Stafford regarding him helplessly. They talked into the small hours of the morning. Late in the afternoon Stillwater sat in a sunny corner of the balcony, reading the Herald. One hand held a nut, which a chipmunk was speculatively watching in the shadow of the big balsam tree. Whenever he ventured near, a rustle of the paper sent him scampering back to the branches, It was the first week of October and they were having Indian summer. The evergreens on the borders of the lake were a sombre background to the gorgeous autumn color of the beech and maple trees. The mountains were covered with an Oriental carpet of blended browns, greens, and reds. Mrs. Bunker came out on the balcony, shading her eyes to look on the lake. "No sign of them yet." "How long are your English friends going to stay?" Mrs. Bunker leaned carelessly against the rustic railing. "I’m sure I don’t know. Lord Stafford is a devoted sportsman, and his nephew is accumulating information about the country. They’re both taken with the place, and—the people in it," she smiled, in a self-conscious way at her son-in-law. He looked at her closely. She wore a tailor-made gown, showing the fine lines of her tall figure. A scarlet cape dropped carelessly off her shoulders. Masses of silvery hair, piled artistically on top of her head, presented a striking contrast to her dark, youthful eyes. "Grandma Chazy! You don’t think of marrying again?" Mrs. Bunker laughed as though her sense of humor had been irresistably touched. "I can’t help guying Lord Stafford. He looks at me with those owl eyes, and takes all my jokes for solemn earnest." "You will flirt, Grandma." "I will, while there’s a breath left in my body—but I’m not the only marriageable candidate in the house."