Through the long period of their sojourn together, they had lived upon hopes, interests, ambitions common to both. Adela had been fired with zeal for her new occupation; they had talked over their daily successes or reverses every afternoon; and though I have not said much about Sylv's natural refinement, and his quiet, persuasive quality, these two things--combined with constant association--had exercised a great influence upon Adela. Imperceptibly she had grown into a life which belonged to them alone, apart from every one else. "How did you get along to-day?" asked Sylv. "All right," said Adela. "But the algebra was hard. It seems as if I couldn't think of anything but squares and roots and coefficients. It appears to me like I'll have to extract the square root of my head right soon; and if I do, there won't be anything left." "You're getting tired, I reckon," Sylv suggested. "Maybe you ought not to work so much. How would it suit you, Deely, to go home for a few days and rest?" "Oh, vacation's coming in a few weeks," she answered, wearily. "It ain't that, Sylv. I ain't tired with the work; but it's because my life seems so queer, and I don't know what I want. I don't want to stay here, or to go home. I'm afraid I'll never be happy any more." They were now in a quiet spot outside of the town. Some willows grew beside the road, which was here carried over a small bridge that covered the gurgling flow of a brook. Sylv stopped short, and eyed her meditatively. "Not happy?" he questioned. "Why not, Deely? Wouldn't you be if you were with Dennie again?" Adela paused, too. "I can't tell," she said. "I don't know what is the matter with me, but I don't seem to be satisfied with anything, Sylv. I never can go back to what I was, but I don't see that I can go forward, either." "But Dennie loves you just the same," said Sylv, rather falteringly. The girl clasped her hands and gazed absently in front of her. "I know he does," she said, in an inert way. "I know it well enough." "And you know he has been trying to learn to read, just to please you, and so as to keep up with you as well as he can." "Yes." But still her face did not lighten. The gathering sadness deepened upon it, if anything. "Oh, why did I come here!" she suddenly cried, despairingly. "If Mr. Lance had not sent me! Ah, what was the use?" Sylv regarded her compassionately, but he was himself undergoing an anguish that it seemed impossible to withstand. "Come," he said, soothingly, "let's go down yonder among the trees and talk about it. We'll see if there isn't some way of making you happy. I reckon the time has come for a change, and we ought to see what is needed."