Page:Lippincotts Monthly Magazine-39.djvu/385

Rh aunt, Mrs. Lyons. There was no further background, no hint or tradition of romance, connected with the girl,—nothing but the look and manner of Loretta to make her worthy of a moment's consideration in the life of such a man as Loring's friend. Yet, after years of a social life which would have set him apart from any mere piece of Arcadian folly, he had pronounced himself engaged to her!

The choir droned on, sometimes singing in tune, and generally so far out that Loretta's sweet contralto notes were like a distinct melody of her own. They sang "Paradise," Loring afterwards remembered, recalling the apathy on nearly every one of the good-humored faces. Most of the people, although plaintive in tone, were singing but the words. Yet he turned his eyes,—caught by the intensity in Loretta's voice. The depth of sweetness, the hope, the very mystery of those joyous delights beyond, seemed to have stirred Loretta into something emotional in her singing. Her face had grown very pale, and there was certainly something shining in her blue-gray eyes as she ceased.

When they came out of church and the young men had partaken of a joyless little feast. Dr. Maynard's gaunt figure suddenly appeared in the door-way, the doctor suggesting that they should walk across the island and show Mr. Loring some views from the other side.

Kenyon was well aware, as they started out, that the doctor scrutinized him keenly, and this lent a certain exhilaration to his tone and manner. He declared, laughingly, that he and the doctor should lead the way, leaving Loretta to discuss questions of Sunday-school matters with Loring just in their wake. But the pebbly shore reached through a walk in the woodlands found the party rather widely separated. Loring had been thinking of too many things to know whether he cared for the view or not, and it was certain from what he caught of Kenyon's last sentences to the doctor that the subject of their discussion had not been nature, for Kenyon was saying, in decided tones,—

"I telegraphed to know if the place is open. If it were, I'd go myself to Turkey on the spot."

It occurred to Loring that this was scarcely the kind of conversation to put Loretta at her ease, and she had distinctly told him that she was anxious for a talk with him. Kenyon and the doctor paced slowly back and forth, while now there came a sound like Loretta's name from the older man, and the words "as my wife" from Kenyon. The other two, Loretta apparently unconscious of it, sat down upon the shingle fronting an expanse of water where the lobster-nets were swaying softly near the curve in Little Island, divinely colored with rich greens, a tangle of wild flowers, and the first pale rays of the sunset, which seemed to be preparing to drift across to their very feet,—lines of mystical, sea-touched light. But Loretta, looking at none of these objects, said, lifting her eyes to her companion's eagerly,—

"Mr. Loring, I am so glad of a chance to talk to you! I think there are so many things about Kenyon you could tell me. In your conversation last night, for instance, I listened to every word; and—do you know?—I could hardly understand it at all."