This was the woman whose love was to make heart-haven for Austin May; the serious, sober choice of his manhood, after all his boyish follies were past. He had told her very seriously and politely of his desire to marry her, one Sunday evening, on the piazza of a house at Newport. It was necessary for him to speak in a low tone, as the people of the house were not far off. She was silent for some seconds, and then he had kissed her. But here came in the first really difficult thing to do in the whole proceeding. Not, indeed, the kissing her. But how was he to tell her of the countess and Gladys Dehon? And yet he must tell her, if only to explain the necessary delay in announcing their engagement. He looked at her in the light that came from the late sunset; how perfectly of the great world she was! He could not bear to lose her now; she was just such a wife as he would invent for himself, had she not existed. She was sitting silently, in a pose that was full of grace and training; much too finely bred to be blushing because he had kissed her. No man had ever kissed her before; and yet, when she deemed that the occasion had come when she could fitly let one do it, she no more blushed because she had so resolved than she would blush at entering a ball-room. Then he pulled himself together, and told her very calmly the history of his life. She was greatly interested, and listened with attention and sympathy. “Of course, you must be there--on August 14th, I mean.” “And keep my word?” “That,” said Miss Rutherford, “I must leave to you. You can’t keep your word with both of them.” “After all,” said May, hopefully, “they may not come.” “You surely do not expect them to cross the Atlantic in person to meet you?” “Oh, no!” said May. “They won’t do that--but they may write or telegraph.” But May did not feel sure what Mme. Polacca de Valska might or might not do. “At all events,” said she, “I think our engagement had better not come out until after the 14th of August.” And May felt constrained to admit that this was best. “And I do not think that you had better see me until then.” “What?” cried Austin. But Miss Rutherford was firm. She would not have him with her every day unless she could tell people that they were engaged. What was she to say to the world if, after that 14th of August, he were to be engaged to Mrs. Dehon, for instance? This she delicately hinted; but, moreover, she told him she had promised to visit the Larneds, at Pomfret, and the Charles Mt. Vernons, at Beverly, and to spend three weeks with the Breezes, at Mount Desert, in August. He could not trail about after her; and it was only three months, after all. So May had consented, with an ill grace; and when she left, two days later, he found nothing better than to join VanKnyper on a yachting cruise. Then he had gone up on the Restigouche, salmon-fishing; and on the 12th of August he was in the Maine woods. II. THE IDYL OF ANTEROS.