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Updated: June 6, 2025
Arthur had played some of his sweet old pieces, and then asked as a return favor to see some of her writing. She had given him several copies of the Briarsfield Echo, and he was still reading. In spite of her thoughts of Clarence, she wondered now and again what Arthur would think of her. Would he be proud of his old play-mate?
In the good old county of Norfolk, close to the shore of Lake Erie, lies the pretty village of Briarsfield. A village I call it, though in truth it has now advanced almost to the size and dignity of a town. Woodburn. It was a long, old-fashioned rough-cast house facing the east, with great wide windows on each side of the door and a veranda all the way across the front.
The Ashleys, too, had left Briarsfield, as Mr. Ashley had secured a principalship east of Toronto. Beth heard nothing more of Marie, though she would so gladly have forgiven her now! Beth soon became quite absorbed in her new friend, May Perth. She told her one day of her fancy that her face looked like a lily-cup. Mrs. Perth only laughed and kissed her, in her sweet, unconscious way.
As she read the commendatory words, she smiled at the thought of having at least one talent to use in her Master's service. Yes, Beth Woodburn of Briarsfield would be famous after all. It was no vain dream of her childhood. Four weeks passed and Beth had finished her preparations for returning to college in the fall.
Aye, but she had done more than suffer. She had refused the man she loved for his sake and for the sake of another. Her sacrifice had been in vain, but the love that sacrificed itself was that vain? Ah, no! Sweet, brave Marie! Her friends thought it a strange request of hers to be buried at Briarsfield, but it was granted.
Mayfair; she was such a bright girlish woman, in spite of her dignity and soft grey hair. Mr. Mayfair, too, had a calm, pleasing manner. To Beth's literary mind there was something about the Mayfair home that reminded her of a novel. They were wealthy people, at least supposed to be so, who had settled in Briarsfield to live their lives in rural contentment.
He sat down before her, and a formal coldness seemed to paralyze them both. "I have come to bid you good-bye, Miss Woodburn!" Miss Woodburn! He had never called her that before. How cold his voice sounded in her ears! "Are you going back to Victoria College?" she asked. "No, to the Wesleyan. Are you going to spend your summer in Briarsfield?" "Most of it.
It is strange how every life we come in contact with leaves its impress upon ourselves! It was certainly so with Marie and Beth. Marie had seen so much of the world and of human life, and Beth had always lived so quietly there in her own village, that now a restlessness took possession of her to get away far beyond the horizon of Briarsfield. The days passed on as days will pass.
"You have been all summer in Briarsfield?" he asked. "Yes, but I am going to Toronto to-morrow morning." "Yes, I know. Miss de Vere told me she had sent for you." "Oh, you have seen her then!" "Yes, I saw her yesterday. Poor girl, she'll not last long. Consumption has killed all the family." Beth wondered if he loved Marie, and she looked at him, with her gentle, sympathetic eyes.
Edith Mayfair came down the walk to meet her, a light-haired, winsome creature, several years older than Beth. But she looked even younger. Hers was such a child-like face! It was pretty to see the way she twined her arm about Beth. They had loved each other ever since the Mayfairs had come to Briarsfield three years ago. Mr. and Mrs. Mayfair were sitting on the veranda. Beth had always loved Mrs.
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