Arthur Stanwood Pier

“ TEMPLE looked at her ruefully. He reached over and put his hand on her shoulder.
"Tell me I'm a low-lived scut," he said. "That's what I am. Now you sit up and dry your eyes, Caroline. I'm going to do the thing that a best friend surely ought to do. I'm going over to Los Angeles to-morrow morning to buy you a wedding present. And I won't come back until the afternoon before the wedding. So that will give you time to get your bearings again. I'm sorry. The devil does hold forth in me sometimes." ”

“ So please forgive mi—and be what you promised—our best friend!"
Indeed, their friendship seemed the better for their quarrel.
"It's mighty pleasant to know a girl as intimately as I know you," Temple said one day toward the end of the week. "I never did before. And you know, something seems queer about it."
"What is that?" asked Caroline.
"Why, that you can know one man so intimately and yet love and marry another."
"Yes," Caroline admitted. "It seems queer to me sometimes." ”

“ Eight months in the year the climate is fine. It's a picturesque spot, for anybody that likes outdoor life. And the quality of the society is improving and will go on improving. If one is reasonably prosperous, so that one can get away for three or four months every year—why, I think it's a pretty good place to have as one's home."
"I should think so," assented Caroline without enthusiasm. "Better anyhow than this." She rose. "My duties begin pretty early in the morning, so I'll say good night. I suppose you know the Los Angeles train leaves here at nine o'clock."
"I know," said Temple. ”

“ For the first month it had interested and amused Caroline, then it had embittered her. She and her father had no bright prospects in this new country.
After supper she seated herself at the writing-table in the office and proceeded to answer the letter which the afternoon train had brought. The travelers, who preserved their farm habits, came in early from the porch and passed through on their way to bed. Only David Temple sat in the room and read a newspaper. Carrick himself lay in his hammock at the end of the veranda, coughing querulously from time to time. ”

“ I was wrong, too, in saying that I hadn't friend in Los Angeles who would come to the wedding; I left out the clergyman who's to marry us. I sang in the choir at his church for a year."
"I suppose that Mr. Gunter has friends who will come?"
"No. He hasn't been in Los Angeles very long either. He has no near relatives living. He's even more alone in the world than I am. I think that's rather pleasant for two persons who are about to be married, don't you?"
"I suppose it gives them more time for each other," conceded Temple. "You're sure then that you want a best friend?" ”

“ Carrick, who had put away his spectacles and his newspapers, approached. It soon appeared that about his guest's movements he had no curiosity, but that he was hopefully concerned about his tastes—and upon satisfying himself that Temple was a man of some reading, Carrick edged his daughter quite out of the conversation.
"Perhaps you have some books with you?" the old man queried wistfully. "I feel the lack of a library here." ”

“ AT SUNSET they took walks together toward the mountains, on the west; in the mornings and afternoons, when the girl's work was done, they would sit together on the veranda and talk or read. They read to each other from "The King and the Book"—Giuseppe Caponsacchi and Pompilia—Temple chose those narratives. Caroline loved Caponsacchi, her heart was wrung over Pompilia; but when together they dipped into the other parts of the poem, she lost interest and patience and sighed for something else. "When you know the truth of a thing, that's all you want to know about it," she declared. ”

“ HE LOOKED at her curiously, and she expected him to follow up her statement with some questioning. It piqued her when he said: "Well, there are no more wonderful nights anywhere than here. If you have stars every night you don't so much need people." ”

“ She could not refrain from adding: "Just the same, a person must have people. I see enough of men—too much—but girls!"
"They are quite a luxury down here," admitted Temple. "That's one reason why I wanted to take a holiday and go off. I hoped I might see some girls. I hadn't expected to succeed so soon.—Tell me, why did you stop here? Why didn't you come down into the Valley?"
"We hadn't any choice about it. My father had come to Los Angeles for his health. He was an accountant ”

“ I know I ought to be happy, but underneath there's a strange dread—"
"It will all vanish the moment your eyes rest on the man."
"Of course!" She looked at him gratefully, comforted.
THE next day at noon Caroline went over to the station to await the arrival of the train from Los Angeles. David Temple had chosen to withdraw himself.
From his room he heard the train arrive and depart. He waited for what seemed a decent interval; then he went out upon the veranda just as Caroline and Mr. Gunter and the clergyman were coming up the steps. ”

“ And he drew the clergyman, an elderly, meek-looking little man, forward by the arm. "Kind of a sad-looking place for a wedding," he continued in his loud, talkative tone. "Oh, well, Carrie and I don't mind. We'll cheer up the solitudes and give the hotel folks a good time." This last he vociferated with his eyes upon Temple.
"There are no hotel guests just now, John," said Caroline; and at the sound of her voice, so cold and quiet, Temple, who had been studying the bridegroom, looked at her. In her eyes, fixed upon him, he read a tragic confession and appeal. "There is only Mr. ”