"But Maria is entirely unconvinced, James; I cannot make any impression upon her. She is determined to go to see Aunt Marcia to-morrow, and I fear--" "Let her go! she is of age, if I remember rightly; let her go and try for herself. You are not responsible for what occurs. Vesta--let me look at you! Hum! I wish you would turn this visitor out, and go away somewhere for a bit." "Go away, James? I?" "Yes, you! You are not looking at all the thing, I tell you. It's all very well and very--everything that is like you--to take this trouble simply and naturally, but whatever you may say and believe, there is the shock and there is the strain, and those are things we have to pay for sooner or later. Go away, I tell you! Send away this--this visitor, give Diploma the key, and go off somewhere for a month or two. Go and make Nat a visit! Poor old Nat, he's lonely enough, with little Vesta and her husband in Europe. Think what it would mean to him, Vesta, to have you with him for awhile!" "My dear James, you take my breath away," said Miss Vesta, fluttering a little. "You are most kind and friendly, but--but it would not be possible for me to go away. I could not think of it for a moment, even if the laws of hospitality did not bind me as long as Maria--my own cousin, remember, James--chooses to stay here. I could not think of it." "I should like to know why!" said Doctor Stedman, obstinately. "I should like to know what your reasons are, Vesta." "Oh!" Miss Vesta sighed, as if she felt the hopelessness of fluttering her wings against the dead wall of masculinity before her; nevertheless she spoke up bravely. "I have given you one reason already, James. It would be not only unseemly, but impossible, for me to leave my guest. But even without that, even if I were entirely alone, still I could not go. My duties; the house; my dear sister's ideas,--she always said a house could not be left for a month by the entire family without deteriorating in some way--though Diploma is most excellent, most faithful. Then,--it is a small matter, but--I have always cared for my seaward lamp in person. I have never been away, James, since--I first lighted the lamp. Then--" "I am still waiting for a reason," said Doctor Stedman, grimly. "I have not heard what I call one yet." The soft color rose in Miss Vesta's face, and she lifted her eyes to his with a look he had seen in them once or twice before. "Then here is one for you, James," she said, quietly. "I do not wish to go!" Doctor Stedman rose abruptly, and tramped up and down the room in moody silence. Miss Vesta sighed, and watched his feet. They were heavily booted, but--no, there were no nails in them, and the shining floor remained intact. Suddenly he came to a stop in front of her. "What if I carried you off, you inflexible little piece of porcelain?" he said. "What if--Vesta,--may I speak once more?"