It was a little hill-top,
with the ground sloping down on either side, then rising again in great
forest-crowned hills. Two oak trees, side by side, shaded them as they
watched the little clouds sailing over the harvest fields.
Arthur was with them a great deal of the summer, and Beth was occupied
with preparations for leaving home. She used to talk to Arthur about
Marie sometimes, but he disappointed her by his coldness. She fancied
that he did not altogether approve of Marie.
CHAPTER V.
_"FOR I LOVE YOU, BETH."_
It came soon, her last Sabbath at home, and the sun was sinking in the
west. Beth sat by her favorite window in the parlor. Do you remember
that last Sabbath before you left home? Everything, the hills outside,
the pictures on the walls, even the very furniture, looked at you in
mute farewell. Beth leaned back in her rocker and looked through the
open door into the kitchen with its maple floor, and the flames leaping
up in the old cook-stove where the fire had been made for tea. She had
always liked that stove with its cheery fire. Then she turned her eyes
to the window and noted that the early September frost had browned her
favorite meadow where the clover bloomed last June, and that the maples
along the road where she went for the milk every evening, were now all
decked in crimson and yellow.
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