So the days danced away with down upon their feet, and there was no talk of anything between Harry and Adriana than their own great love and happiness--not at least for many weeks. But, as the dusty summer waned, they began to think of the future, and to plan for its necessities. In the winter they would certainly have to live in New York, and it seemed, therefore, best to make their home there. Harry was busy looking at houses for sale, and Adriana constantly going into the city to examine their advertised perfections. An element of unrest came into the beautiful summer nest, and something of that melancholy which haunts the birds just before their migration. The May of their lives was past. The time of labor and care was at hand. Even financially, Harry began to be aware that the love that had made him dream must now make him work. So they watched eagerly for Miss Alida's letters. Hitherto they had been full of traveller's gossip and complaints; but there had been no mention of her return, and so far they had not been sorry for the delay. But September brought a different feeling. Harry wanted to go to the city. His visits to it made him long for the financial fray, for society, for his old duties and amusements. He began to fret at his inaction, to be a trifle irritable with Miss Alida for her long visit, and at last to stop in the city for two and three days at a time. "I wish Miss Alida would come home," said Adriana to her father one morning. She had driven herself to the post-office, and called at Peter's on her way back. "I wish she would come. We have had no letter from her for two weeks. I am uneasy about her--and about Harry." "Why are you uneasy about Harry?" asked Peter. "He stays in the city too often. He says 'business' demands his presence. Father, I do not like it. I want to be in the city with him. I am sure I ought to be. Why does he stay there? He could come home if he wished to do so." Peter looked gravely into his daughter's anxious face. He could see the unshed tears in her eyes. He had himself suffered from her mother's over-love and jealous care, and he said earnestly: "Yanna, my best loved one! Before all other advice about your husband, consider some words I am going to give you. I gave them to Gertrude and Augusta; when they first began to worry about this thing--_a wife should have eyelids as well as eyes_. Do not see too much. Do not hear too much. Do not feel too much. And be sure not to imagine too much. God made both men and women, and they are not alike. Remember that, dear girl--_they are not alike_." He clasped her hand, and she smiled through her tears, and with a brave little nod turned her horse's head and drove slowly home. When she reached the Van Hoosen place, she found that Miss Alida had returned. The old lady came to the door with a "Good morning, Mrs. Harry Filmer! Why was not Harry at the dock to meet me?"