"Oh, Jim, but his father is rich. You see, it is dignified to have such a beau. He came over last night after I left you and said his father had bought of Mr. Converse a beautiful saddle horse and he wanted me to take a ride on it, but when I told him I was engaged he looked downcast. He proposed to bring over his sister Lydia and, if it pleased you, we would all go up to the west bend fishing together and have a fish fry. What do you thing of that?" "I would be delighted to go." "Yes, but he will expect to escort me and leave you to attend to Lydia." "That is all right; I like Lydia." "You do?" "Of course, I do." "But, Jim, you are older than Lydia." "I do not think she cares for that by what she said." "What she said? When was all this talk?" "Oh, not long ago." "Not long ago? Look around here, James Hall!" At this he smiled and she said, "There, now, you were fooling me--own up that it was not true." "It may not be exactly true, but bordering on the truth." "What do you mean by bordering on the truth?" "I actually saw her." "Did you talk that way to her?" "Oh, no; we did not speak." "There, Jim, now I like you just a little bit; sort of sisterly love, you know. That is all, Jim--do you hear?" "No," he said, drawing her to him. "I did not catch that last sentence. Come a little nearer, Winnie." "Never! Never! James Hall," she said, withdrawing with a flushed face. "You are holding a secret from me and unless you confide all, Winnie Richardson will die an old maid." "Thank God," he replied, with irony, "That cuts off John Bragg." "John is already cut off. I love the tracks you make in the dust more than I do him, but no girl should allow herself to follow a love trail into a snare. You may be all right. I think you are, but do not advance another shade until I know all." Jim dried her falling tears as caressingly as he dared, but the mystery still remained. Winnie turned and gazed to the far away hills, but she did not see them, for her soul was silently summoning courage for the trying ordeal. Jim could but see in her the model of pure virtue and loveliness, as she turned to him, saying: "Is your name James Hall?" "No." "Were you ever married?" "Yes." "Is your wife alive?" "No." "What is your name?" "James Burroughs." "Is your father alive?" "No." "What was his name?" "George Burroughs." "Where did he die?" "Salem." "When?" "August 19, 1692." "Was he that George Burroughs?" Here Winnie's voice failed, and Jim answered, "He was." Winnie stepped back while her thin lips parted and seemed to look as white as the ivories between them. "Was your wife that beautiful Fanny Shepherd, who died with a broken heart at Casco Bay, after the report of your death?" "She was."