country farmers drive. Guess she won't be likely to stir up the bile
of either of us, particularly as I am bullet proof, and you have been
engaged for years. By the way, when do you cross the sea again for the
fair Lucy? Rumor says this summer."

"Rumor is wrong, as usual, then," was Guy's reply, a soft light
stealing into his handsome eyes. Then, after a moment, he added: "Miss
Atherstone's health is far too delicate for her to incur the risks of
a climate like ours. If she were well acclimated, I should be glad,
for it is terribly lonely up at Aikenside."

"And do you really think a wife would make it pleasanter?" Dr Holbrook
asked, the tone of his voice indicating a little doubt as to a man's
being happier for having a helpmate to share his joys and sorrows.

But no such doubts dwelt in the mind of Guy Remington. Eminently
fitted for domestic happiness, he looked forward anxiously to the time
when sweet Lucy Atherstone, the fair English girl to whom he had
become engaged when, four years before, he visited Europe, should be
strong enough to bear transplanting to American soil. Twice since his
engagement he had visited her, finding her always lovely, gentle, and
yielding. Too yielding, it sometimes seemed to him, while occasionally
the thought had flashed upon him that she did not possess a very
remarkable depth of intellect. But he said to himself, he did not
care; he hated strong-minded women, and would far rather his wife
should be a little weak than masculine, like his Aunt Margaret, who
sometimes wore bloomers, and advocated women's rights. Yes, he greatly
preferred Lucy Atherstone, as she was, to a wife like the stately
Margaret, or like Agnes, his pretty stepmother, who only thought how
she could best attract attention; and as it had never occurred to him