His companion looked at the little cottage and big red barn, and altogether unconsciously murmured, “Unchanged, altogether unchanged after all these years.” Conway suddenly halted the pony. “Why do you stop?” she inquired. “See!” said Conway softly, as he pointed to the other side of the road. “There is Norine.” The old lady turned her head and looked. Norine was sitting upon a fallen log at the edge of the woods, in an attitude of deep thought. Her child lay asleep on her lap, with the bright sunshine turning his hair to gold. It was a very pretty picture, with the budding woods as an efficient background, and the sun shining lovingly on the mother and child. A very pretty picture, Conway thought, and he had quite lost himself in contemplation of it, when he was aroused by a touch from his companion. “Turn around,” she said softly, as if in fear of waking Norine from her thoughts. And Conway, catching her meaning, turned the little pony around. “Go ahead!” said the woman impatiently. “Back?” inquired Conway, in amazement. “Do you not want to see them?” “I have seen all I want to,” said the woman coldly. And, although Conway had not seen all he wanted to, by any means, he drove back obediently. They rode back in complete silence, until Conway assisted the lady out at the door of his office. Then she said: “You are a good man, a _very_ good man, I think, as men go”--qualifying her phrase a little. “Do you expect to marry Norine?” “I cannot say that I expect to,” replied Conway, drawing himself up. “But I certainly hope to.” “Did she love that scoundrel, do you think?” Conway said “Yes,” sturdily, but he sighed a little sadly when he said it. “I am sorry for you,” said this strange visitor, almost kindly, “but the Darlings love strong and well.” And then, without another word, she turned and left him as unceremoniously as she had entered his office. “Thank the Lord she is only half Darling,” thought the doctor cheerfully; her departure taking a load off his spirits. “If I can get the Bright half to love me, I’ll take my chances for the rest;” and he thoughtfully reëntered his gig and chirped to the little pony. “Perhaps it will be as well not to mention it,” he thought, referring mentally to his strange visitor. “There is really very little to tell, and no use in raising false hopes. Yes,” he concluded thoughtfully, “better not to mention it at all.” And having made this wise resolve, Conway chirped to the little pony again, and drove cheerfully on his way. And so Norine was left in ignorance of the fact that she had formed part of a very pleasing picture for the edification of a strange--a _very_ strange woman. CHAPTER XIII. A RISING YOUNG MAN.