"Have you sent out any more of your work?"
"And I hope you will finally meet such success that you can give yourself up to that kind of work. I agree with you that one ought to discover what are his best powers and make the best use of them he possibly can; if he would be happy."
"You are happy in your work, Berk, aren't you?"
"Yes, I love it, thank fortune, and I am beginning to see glimpses of a future."
"That is good," returned Linda with satisfaction. "You deserve success, Berk."
"Much more than most others. Was ever a better son, or brother, if it comes to that?"
"Oh, nonsense, it is no sacrifice to do things for those you love; in fact, I've been rather selfish in pleasing myself, indulging my love of bestowing. It is really no credit to give because one enjoys it."
"Then there is no such thing as unselfishness in the world."
"Oh, yes, there is; when one does a thing he doesn't like, or gives up something he really wants very much; that is my idea of unselfishness."
"Then am I or am I not to consider that you have performed a selfish act in coming all the way to Boxford for me in all this rain?" asked Linda laughing. There may have been a little coquetry in the question, but she was hardly prepared for the seriousness of the reply.
"It was purely and entirely selfish on my part. It was the one thing I wanted most to do, and I would go much further and through a thousand greater difficulties for you. In fact, there is nothing I wouldn't do to make you happy, Linda Talbot."
"There's chivalry for you," returned Linda, determined to take the answer as lightly as possible.
The warmth but not the earnestness had gone out of his tones when he made the next remark: "I wish I could make it possible for you to stop teaching, Linda."
"Marry Grace off and get back Talbot's Angles for me, and I will stop," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone.
"No, I'd still let Phillips have the place, but I would go down there often, and it would bring me enough to live on. I could persuade Miss Ri to spend part of the year there, maybe, and--oh, wouldn't it be lovely?"
Berkley did not reply, but spoke to his horse, "Go on there, Jerry." They had been driving so slowly that the other buggy had passed them though Berkley's was the fleeter horse. But now they sped along over the hard wet road, silence between them. Linda's imagination was busy picturing the delights of having the old homestead for her very own, and was fancying days spent there with Miss Ri and Mammy, for of course Mammy would go.