"Oh, no," said Kenneth. "Will you step up and look at them? My stock is not large, but valuable, to me at least, and I hope to add to it from time to time." "Valuable! yes, indeed, to a lover of literature," remarked the major running his eye over the titles. "Shakespeare, Milton, Pope, Dryden, Gray, Goldsmith, Gibbon, Plutarch, Rollins, etc., etc. Poetry, history, fiction are well represented, and I see you have a goodly supply of religious works of the best class, also. Medical books, too, in plenty, but of their quality I am no judge." "Yes, I shall not want for good companionship here in my somewhat rough bachelor quarters," Kenneth answered, surveying his treasures with an air of quiet content. "But I do not mean to be selfish, major, make yourself at home among my friends." "Thank you," returned the major heartily, wishing that Nell had been included in the invitation; when Kenneth, as if in answer to his thoughts, said, "The ladies of your family, too, might find something here to enjoy." Then the major told of Nell's disappointment, and half an hour later was on his way home, carrying her the "Vicar of Wakefield," and the assurance that Dr. Clendenin's entire library was at her service. Nell's face sparkled with delight at the news, and the sight of the book. "How kind in him!" she said. "I'll handle them with the greatest care." For many months those books and the talks with their owner which naturally grew out of their perusal, were her greatest enjoyment; for as yet she had very few companions near her own age. But as the town grew there was a corresponding increase in its young society and in the sources of amusement and entertainment open to her. She had many admirers and Kenneth stepped quietly aside, as one who had no desire to win the prize. Mrs. Lamar did not understand it, no more did Dale, or Nell herself, though Kenneth had never comported himself as a lover and she had not consciously thought of him. There were other things about Kenneth that puzzled Dale. He seemed to have some secret grief; there were times when his look and manner betokened inexpressible sadness, though he always shook it off and assumed an air of cheerfulness on being spoken to. Dale's curiosity was piqued, and indeed he would have rejoiced to give all the sympathy and comfort that might be in his power; but there was a quiet, reserved dignity about Kenneth that forbade any intrusion into his private affairs. He rarely spoke of himself or his own concerns; he sometimes mentioned his mother or sister, always with the greatest respect and affection, but his talk when they were alone together was of literature, of the interests of the community in which they lived, the state, the country, the acts of the government, and what was going on in foreign lands, or of Dale's own plans and prospects, in which Kenneth took the most generous, unselfish interest.