And now what a charming summer of sweet illusion and castle-building followed for the lovers! How Aunt Abby smiled benignly upon them, quite content to accord ample chance for wooing! How many blissful, dreamy hours they passed on lonely wave-washed cliffs, while the marvel of love was discussed! How its wondrous magic opened a new world whose walks were flower-decked, whose sky was ever serene, where lilies bloomed, birds sang, sea winds whispered of time and eternity, and where Chip was an adored queen! How all the shame and humiliation of her past life faded away and joy supreme entered on the azure and golden wings of this new morning! Even Old Cy was almost forgotten; the spites, Old Tomah, and Tim's Place quite so; and all hope, all joy, all protection, and all her future centred in the will and wishes of this Prince Perfect. "Blind and foolish," I hear some fair critic say. Yes, more than that, almost idiotic; for selfish man never pursues unless forced to do so, and an object of worship once possessed, is but a summer flower. CHAPTER XLI "A man'll hev all the friends he kin keer for if he tends to his own knittin' work."--Old Cy Walker. Quite different from the meeting of the lovers was that which occurred when Old Cy reached Peaceful Valley. There were no heroics, no falling upon one another's necks, no tears. Just a "Hullo, Cyrus!" "Hullo, Judson!" as these two brothers clasped hands, and forty years were bridged. Aunt Mandy, however, showed more emotion, for when Old Cy rather awkwardly stooped to kiss her, the long ago of Sister Abby's sorrow welled up in her heart, and the tears came. That evening's reunion, with its two life histories to be exchanged, did not close until the tall clock had ticked time into the wee, small hours. All of Old Cy's almost marvellous adventures had to be told by him, and not the least interesting were the last few years at the wilderness home of the hermit. Chip's entry into it and her history formed another chapter fully as thrilling, with Uncle Jud's rescue of her for a _denouement_. The most pathetic feature of this intermingled history--the years while sweet Abby Grey waited and watched for her lover--was left untold. Only once was it referred to by Aunt Mandy, in an indirect way; but the quick lowering of Old Cy's eyes and the shadow that overspread his face, checked her at once. Almost intuitively she realized its unwisdom, and that it was a sorrow best not referred to. Old Cy evidently felt it a subject to avoid, and not until the next day did he even ask how Aunt Abby looked or what had been her life experiences. A little of this reticence wore away in due time, however, and then Aunt Mandy once more referred to her sister. "I kinder feel you blame Abby somehow, Cyrus, the way you act," she said, "and yet thar ain't no cause for it. She'd waited 'most seven years. We'd all given you up for dead, and life in Christmas Cove wa'n't promisin' much for Abby."