Chapter 1 of The Princess and the Ploughman A wild wind blowing in from the open sea came upon the softer spirit of earth brooding over blooming gardens, burgeoning woods, and low-lying meadows, lush with grasses, and meeting thus the two clasps and mingled, then stooping to earth rushed with soft clamour of shaken leaves through groves and thickets, ruffled into fretted silver the blue of pools and streams, snatched the breath of a million blossoms and bore it all living into the streets and alleys of the crowded town, pausing midway in prankish mischief, to whirl a sheaf of white papers from the lap of a girl who sat under the shelter of a widespreading tree. The girl followed the unlooked-for soaring of her thoughts with startled eyes of clearest grey, then she sprang up and pursued them with swift-footed energy as they danced and fluttered high overhead like giant butterflies drunk with the wind of summer. A pair of these literary vagrants swooped and hovered irresolute in a tangle of meadow-sweet and wild roses. The girl caught them with a little cry of triumph, leaving a fragment of her pink gown in the rose-thicket as she dashed after a third page which whirled in a mad spiral flight across the bed of a brook. Splashing through the shallow water with reckless feet, she captured her prize as it hesitated upon the verge of a freshly plowed field, across which the far glimmer of a fourth and fifth could be seen skimming the ground like homing swallows. The pursuer stopped for an instant to glance roofily at her wet white shoes, then gathering her skirts in both hands gave chase with renewed ardour. A man who had been deliberately driving a deep, sub-soiling plow through the stiff loam on the farther side of the field pulled up his horses and stood watching the pink figure in its difficult approach across the steep furrows. A twinkle of amused comprehension dawning in his eyes as the girl, she had almost reached him now, pounced upon one of the flying pages. The fifth and last was blowing directly towards him, with wavering side-long swoops as if half-minded to surrender at discretion. The man reached out and caught it deftly. It was a large fair-page, well-covered with small, firm writing, where her delicate feet had touched the earth green herbage-flowering sprain, he read. Love tracked her steps, and enchanted longing pressed hard after. He would have read further, being obviously quite unaware of the impropriety of his action, but the girl's hand was already outstretched towards her elusive quarry. Please give it to me, she said, breathing hard. It is my theme on the poetry of Hesiod. The wind blew it away just as I was finishing it. He turned to look at her with the fine deliberation which he had been bestowing upon the stiff clods of earth his mighty plow had turned up, glistening to the sun. It is very beautiful, he said, slowly. What you have written, I mean. It would have been a pity to lose it. He surrendered his prize with an apologetic glance at his brown hands. The girl rapidly sorted the recovered pages. Yes, she said, in a preoccupied way, and that last page was quite the most important of all. The man surveyed her with grave attention as she stood, quite unaware of his eyes. Her slender shape in its swathing draperies of pink drooping a little over the earth-stained pages of her manuscript. Her heavy hair, half-fallen from its careless fastenings, glistening like ripe leaves in the broad light of approaching noon, her bosom rising and falling with the deep breath of her flight. His slow, meditative eyes took definite note of the gracious curves of her red mouth, parted a little to ease the tumultuous heartbeats, of her grey eyes, darkly fringed like clear pools under a twilight sky, of her long hands, white and exquisitely maternal as the hands of a Madonna. Behind her the plowed field spread its warm browns and greys in subtle harmony. He sighed regretfully as she glanced about her with manifest intention of renewed flight. He would have liked to look at her longer. It will be easier to regain the road from this side, he suggested. The plowed ground is hard to walk over. But I didn't come from the road, she said. I was sitting under a tree writing, and the wind carried my pages away. I ran after them. I didn't know nor care where. Where did you come from when you sat down under the tree to write? he asked. I have always lived about it, he added, with a grave smile. Her eyes looked at him calmly. She was noticing for the first time that he was young and possessed of a tall powerful body. His face, now that she observed it, would not have attracted her second glance since it was, in common with many faces of men, plain, large-featured, clean-shaven. His eyes blew and penetrating, met her own with a clear directness of gaze. If you will tell me where you are stopping, he repeated tentatively. Of course, she murmured.  I am staying at Dr Vivian's cottage. It can't be far. No, he agreed. You have only to cross this bit of pasture and yonder meadow. The house is hidden behind the trees just at the crest of the hill. There is a brook between the meadow and the wood, but it isn't deep. The girl looked down at her muddy shoes with a pucker of her white furrowed. I know just how deep it is, she replied. I waited through it once this morning. I shan't mind doing it again. I think I ought to tell you that my name is Mary Adams. I am sorry to have kept you from your work, and I thank you. She turned abruptly and walked away, her drabbled pink gown trailing the stubble. The man followed her with his eyes till she had disappeared behind a leafy hedge. Then he gripped the handles of his plough. His obedient horses bent their gleaming flanks to the strain, and again the tough sod of the pasture yielded in a lengthening furrow of brown earth. CHAPTER II. OF THE PRINCESS AND THE PLOWMAN. This is a LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. RECORDING BY KL ZELKI. THE PRINCESS AND THE PLOWMAN. BY FLORENCE MORRIS KINGSLEY. CHAPTER II. A woman may fall romantically in love with another woman, given the requisite psychological correspondences and the phenomenon becomes inevitable. Women are prone thoughtlessly to ignore or ridicule so aesthetic a relation between women. Nevertheless they sometimes stumble upon it to their undoing. These innocent, shadowy premonitions of a larger fate for the most part have their birth, flourish, and die under the arching elms of those tranquil New England villages, for the strenuous processes incident to the higher unfoldment of the female intellect may be said to possess the place as a soul possesses its body. When in such a college town Mary Adams, tall and fair, her twenty studious years empty of vain flirtations, first set serious grey eyes upon Felice Vivian, tiny and dark, as a rich red rose is dark. This very real, though illogical, passion sprang into instant being. The two clave to each other, if not after the world famous masculine pattern of Damon and Pytheus, or David and Jonathan, like innumerable women lovers, uncelebrated in prose or rhyme, since the days of Ruth and Naomi. Mary Adams had chosen her present scholastic career in order to escape the irksan conditions of a home, which in reality was little more than a respectable shelter, and which of late she had found acutely intolerable. And this, because of the posthumous solicitude of a paternal aunt, coldly embodied in the legal phraseology of a last will and testament. This worthy female, herself unwetted to the day of her death, had nevertheless, or perhaps more exactly because of the fact, conceived marriage to be of the highest possible importance to a woman. She had therefore, being of a sound and disposing mind and memory, given and bequeathed the whole of a very handsome fortune to her dearly beloved and only surviving relative, Mary Adams, with the very reasonable condition attached that said niece, having duly survived to the age of twenty-three years, should be legally married to the man of her choice. The testator further provided that should the said Mary Adams fail to survive to a marriageable age, or, having survived, should she refuse to comply with the specified condition, the estate was to pass, in its entirety, into the hands of certain trustees, to be devoted to the foundation of an institution of learning, for the higher education of the native females of the Hawaiian islands. Old Judge Chantry, sole executor of the Lydia Adams estate, and guardian of the girl, had been particularly explicit as to the one condition attached to the untrammeled ownership of the property, on the occasion selected by him as proper to a full understanding of the terms of the will. The faithful interview took place in the library of the Chantry mansion, on the morning of the girl's nineteenth birthday. Between the tender age of six, when the control of her person and prospective fortune had passed into the hands of Judge Chantry, and the present day, Mary had grown from a small, shy, silent child, with eyes much too big for her pale, narrow face, into a tall, slender woman, still pale, with the exquisite pallor of a rose-tinted white flower. Her mouth brilliantly red and curved like a heart, seldom enclosing in speech or laughter. Her gray eyes, watching the world calm, serious, unafraid. She might have been beautiful, had she ever thought of beauty in connection with herself? But the dull routine of governesses, tutors, and textbooks conducted in the large, dull rooms of the large, dull house had left her, if not exactly dull, something very like it. Judge Chantry told himself, with suppressed irritation, that the girl was limp as a string. His voice, never mild, took on an added note of harshness, as he noted the easy curves of her pliant young body, and the careless masses of her heavy red hair, tumbled rather untidily behind her little ears. The girl's face had expressed neither surprise nor indignation, as he pointedly set forth in language carefully stripped of legal verbiage the unalterable conditions of the will. Understand, he concluded sharply, you must marry on or before your 23rd birthday, or lose all interest in your aunt's estate. Failing to do this, I am bound to tell you that there is no provision made for your future, beyond the very inconsiderable amount coming to you from the estate of your deceased parents. Do you quite follow me? Quite, replied Mary, without display of emotion. I think, she added, after a thoughtful pause, that Aunt Lydia Adams might have trusted my judgment as well as her own. I have never thought before about being married. I shall never think of it now. Cut! said her guardian. You will marry, of course. How can I marry, sir, when I don't know any man? The virginal simplicity of the question brought a similacrum of a smile to the shrewd eyes of the judge. I know several men, he observed meditatively. In fact, I know the man for the emergency, which is far better than knowing a thousand worthless fortune-hunters, such as would gather about you like hungry hounds. Should the terms of this peculiar will be made known, he paused and tapped noiselessly with his dry old fingers, upon the blotting-pad which lay before him, while he studied the face of his ward with unaccustomed eyes, to wit, the eyes of a man. You have grown into a not-bad-looking woman, Mary, he said at length, with a Paris gown or two, and diamonds. There are diamonds, you know, which belong to your aunt. The girl stared at her guardian with unsmiling gravity. What do you mean to do with me, sir? she asked. She did not change her position in the great car of chair in which she was sitting, by a hair's breadth, yet the judge, who was still watching her with the eyes of a younger man, became aware of something like an obstinate stiffening in the long lines of her figure. I mean to present you to my nephew Jerome Chantry, he answered without circumlocution. He is a shrewd, conservative man, who would look after both you and your fortune, as they should be looked after. Do you mean that I am to marry him? I should hardly have put it that way, replied the judge dryly. But why not? Jerome's wife died, let me see, yet must be something like four years ago. He will doubtless be obliged to me for calling his attention to the matter, and you, Mary arose from her chair, slowly, as she did everything, her young slenderness, and the exceeding fine whiteness of her skin, glimpsed above her close fitting, dull-colored gown, giving her the quaint, old-world look of a medieval princess. I shall not marry Jerome Chantry, she said tranquilly. I shall not marry any one. A month later she acquainted her guardian with the decision which she had been pondering slowly as she pondered all things. If I am not to have any money, she said, I must earn my own living. I shall teach. It is the only thing I can do. I have decided to go to college. I shall graduate before I am twenty-three. I can then take care of myself. The old man permitted himself a dubious smile. Very well, he said, and meanwhile you will kindly reflect upon the matter of which I have spoken.  If you arrive at a different decision he paused and looked carefully at the girl. She had undoubtedly changed subtly since he had last talked with her. Jerome Chantry, who had been duly presented, had said in his guarded way that he considered his uncle's ward an exceedingly handsome girl. Being a man of the world, not unacquainted with the ways of women, he had deeply deplored the indiscreet utterances of his elderly relative. Nevertheless, he expressed himself as not at all adverse to the idea of a marriage with the heiress. But neither Judge Chantry nor his sampiant nephew counted upon Felice Vivian, nor upon the fact that a woman may fall romantically in love with another woman. In the course of her college life, together with much extraneous information, Mary discovered two astonishing facts. She found that she had never yet loved any one, and also, which was far more important, that Felice Vivian was the most loving, lovable, and altogether adorable being upon earth. All of this brought an astonishing change in Mary and in her thoughts about nearly everything. On her part Miss Vivian keenly enjoined adoration of any and all sorts, from her babyhood up, and well used to it too, regarded the tall, fair, serious Mary as a most interesting phenomenon. Her undeniable beauty, her solitary state in the world, her surprising ignorance of the cometer experiences of American girlhood, impressed Miss Vivian as being altogether strange and delightful. She set herself to explore her friend's mind with the same enthusiastic interest, which she would have bestowed upon the pages of a fascinating romance. And having speedily arrived at divers' decisions and opinions, she unhesitatingly undertook the formation of Mary's taste, the molding of her likes and dislikes, and the direction of her future course in life. Thus it came about that individuals whom Mary had heretofore regarded in her customary, mild, and large-eyed way, as pseudo-providences, were promptly classified and labelled by the clever Miss Vivian as very ordinary persons indeed. Judge Chantry, for example, who had figured in Mary Adam's life as an awful and inexorable deity, elevated upon an inaccessible Olympian peak, represented to her childish eyes by a peculiar large chair, placed in a peculiar spot of the Chantry Library, now promptly descended under Miss Vivian's airy supervision, to a plane almost beneath notice. I can see very plainly, Mary, that your guardian is a cross disagreeable old person. Quote the intelligent police. I should advise you not to pay too much attention to him from now on. Men are so preposterously opinionated anyway, one must always manage them. As for that widower creature, Jerome, he is absolutely impossible, and the idea of your being expected to marry him is absurd. I shall not marry anyone, declared Mary so fully. I shall never love anyone but you, Feliz.  You certainly are the darlinest thing in the world, Mary, murmured Miss Vivian. But it does seem a shame to lose all that money. Being of a prettily practical turn of mind, Miss Vivian hearkened back, more than once, to the matter of the higher education of the native females of the Hawaiian islands, and its too obvious relation to the Lydia Adams estate. In the intervals between lectures, recitations, and other functions of a purely scholastic nature, the two girls applied themselves unremittingly to the study of this vastly interesting sociological problem, which assumed vaster and more far-reaching proportions in their youthful eyes as they contemplated it. There must be some way out of it, honey, declared Miss Vivian entrogetically. Couldn't you break that cruel will? Mary shook her lovely head. I wouldn't do that, even if I could, she said positively. I am sure Aunt Lydia intended to be very kind to me. She was so very sure every woman ought to marry, though I can't see why, when she didn't marry. Of course she could hardly have been expected to guess what sort of person I was going to be. And she couldn't have known about you, Felice.  I wish I had been acquainted with your Aunt Lydia, she observed with a slight vindictiveness of manner. She must have been the cleverest, most original person in the world to have thought such a thing as compelling you, or anyone else, to marry. Why, no woman in the whole world would ever marry if she was compelled to. Mary's large, clear eyes beamed a mild surprise. Was it clever of her, she murmured. I have never thought of it in that way, and yet I have been told that she was very clever indeed. She made it a point to never do anything in a commonplace way. What did she suppose was to become of you if all her money went to those horrid Hawaiian females? Demanded Miss Vivian with open irritation. If she had been really interested in any human being beside herself, she would have thought of that. Mary shook her head. It's all a mystery to me, she sighed. Perhaps she took it for granted that I would die young. Or, she added meditatively, she might have been afraid I would grow into a disagreeable, useless old maid and never do any good with her money. Dearest, Coudness Vivian, slipping her small, brown hand into Mary's large, white one, you are everything that is beautiful and noble and grand. If your Aunt Lydia could only have known you as I do, she would have left you everything to do with exactly as you choose. If she had said that I must never, never marry and that I must devote my life and all the money to the women of Hawaii, oh, for lease, that would be a life worth living. Do you know what would have happened if she had done that? demanded Miss Vivian incisively. They waited. Large eyed for the oracle. You would have been absolutely determined to marry and you would have adored the first man you laid eyes upon after finding it out. It would be a logical consequence, honey. Don't you see? In that case, the whole stream of your intelligence would have been focused upon the idea of marriage as it is now deflected from it, and the result would have been quite as inevitable, though exactly opposite. Mary looked hurt. I may not be clever enough to answer you out of the psychology lecture we had this morning, she said with dignity, but you know, for lease, that I love you too much to ever care for any man, and besides. Sweetheart, exclaimed Miss Vivian, with instant contrition, as if I could ever lose sight of that. If you and I could go to Hawaii together, we could build a college the way Tennyson's princess did, and not a man should ever set foot inside the place.  The two clasped hands in speechless ecstasy before the airy splendor of this vision. And to think that we could do it, sighed Mary, if only—if only—echoed Miss Vivian and lifted her brown eyes, in which lurked a tiny demon of mischief, invisible to the serious Mary. The two girls were sterling down a quiet street of the village, bare-headed after the college custom, though the cold spring wind whistled keenly through the budding boughs overhead. Dearest, she went on, we must devise some plan, by which we can circumvent Aunt Lydia and—the somewhat singular spectacle—of a tall, comfortably stout, immaculately groomed man, who was approaching them rapidly, interrupted the words which trembled upon Miss Vivian's lips. At the same instant, the slight stiffening of Mary's long neck and the look of haughty displeasure, which she turned upon the stranger, appraised the intelligent felice of his identity. Is it the bereaved Jerome? she whispered, and print herself ever so slightly. How do he come here? replied Mary. Her usually mild eyes seem congealed into clearest ice. Her reddish hair appeared to emit fiery sparkles of indignation. Miss Vivian, on the contrary, dimpled sweetly when somewhat ungraciously introduced to the stranger. She was so glad to meet Mr. Chantry. Dear Mary had spoken of him often. Mr. Chantry bent a hopeful inquiring gaze upon the clear profile which Mary turned persistently in his direction. Then he looked down into the small, dark, sparkling face uplifted to his with pleased interest. I am delighted to know that Miss Adams has thought of me with sufficient interest to mention my name, he said her banally, and added, I am frequently thinking of her. You are mistaken, said Mary distinctively. I never think of you. I do not wish to think of you. She was looking straight ahead of her. Her fine dark brows bent above the clear, colorless gray of her eyes. Hence she did not see the charming smile, which Felice charitably bestowed upon the discomfited Chantry. The smile appeared to convey amused comprehension, intelligent sympathy, and a vague promise of cooperation which Mr. Chantry appropriated with mistaken gratitude. You will excuse me, I am sure, murmured the astute Miss Vivian after a few moments, devoted to desultory conversation in which Mary obstinately declined to participate. I have a lecture to prepare. An hour later she came upon Mary, sitting quite alone upon the steps of the terrace with a five-pound box of confectionery in her lap. Well, honey, has he gone? She inquired, I in her friend with quiet, justifiable curiosity. Yes, and for ever, I hope, said Mary, depositing the box upon the ground with a gesture of loathing.  Oh, dearest! she whispered passionately. I hate men, especially that man, but I do love you. Miss Vivian's delicate hand played about the beautiful bent head like a brown butterfly. Sweetest, she cooed vaguely. Then with a brisk little shake. Tell me, did he propose? No, but I told him that I should never marry him. You told him before he asked you? Oh, Mary! There was no use of my pretending that I did not understand, said Mary heartily. I did understand, and I wanted him to understand. I couldn't have him coming between us, Felice. Miss Vivian, do a long breath. It is quite possible that you will not always feel about me as you do now, Mary. She said, slowly and clearly, as one would speak to a dull child. And afterward, you know, you might be sorry, and blame me because you were poor and alone in the world, when you might just as well have been rich and happy. These clear eyes overflowed with tears. But I couldn't have him coming between us, she repeated helplessly, and so I told him. Miss Vivian sprang to her feet with a vixenish little laugh. Come in this minute and go to work on your chemistry, she commanded.  And, picking up the despised offering of bonbons, she walked briskly away.  End of chapter 2. Chapter 3 of The Princess and the Ploughman. This is a LibriVox recording. All the LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Princess and the Ploughman by Florence Morse Kingsley. Chapter 3. If the truth must be told, Miss Vivian had been gradually finding out that her friendship with Mary Adams had grown into something very like an actual embarrassment.  By almost imperceptible degrees, she had found herself isolated, hemmed in, held unyieldingly fast by the unswerving devotion of Mary. It was very sweet, no doubt, to have won the whole-hearted adoration of so exquisite and guileless a creature. But for her part, Felice Vivian was sanely aware of the unreality. To herself, she called it plainly absurdity. Of the relation. She recognized the fact that the whole fabric of this chilly maiden love was fashioned out of unsubstantial dream stuff. As lovely, but every wit as evanescent as the frost flowers of a winter morning etched upon a pane of clear glass. She was herself already conscious of warm desires and ambitions, wholly without the jealous clasp of Mary's strong white arms. Reasoning in a healthy, girlish fashion from cause to effect, she said, Miss Vivian set deliberately about supplanting herself in Mary's heart. To be really in love, she argued, one must be in love with a man. In pursuance of her deep designs for Mary's ultimate well-being, she invited her for a long stay at her father's country place. And here, she guilefully caused various eligible men to appear in due succession, and upon each, in turn, she conscientiously strove to impress the superlative attractions of her guest. This altruistic endeavor was foredoomed to complete failure. Mary had never looked more beautiful. Yet, in her absolute aloofness and tranquil unconsciousness of her charm, she made no more impression upon the hearts of the men than an exquisite child. They agreed with cheerful unanimity that Miss Adams was a star. Then, straightway, fell in love with their hostess, who was merely an adorable human being. After a third ignominious failure of the sort, Miss Vivian unflinchingly resorted to severe a measures. Do you know, honey, I am feeling wretchedly unhappy about you, she began, with a solemnity which roused Mary to tender alarms. Unhappy about me? Oh, Felice, what have I done in treated Mary?   Oh, honey, how stew—that is, I wanted you to talk to him. I wanted you to talk to him. Can't you see what a dreadful mistake you are making? Your 23rd birthday comes next year, and unless you marry somebody before then, you will lose your aunt Lydia's money. And that will mean losing me, too. She added the last words with deliberate emphasis. Must I lose you, whispered Mary? Oh, Felice, why? Miss Vivian steeled herself against the appealing beauty of her life. Miss Vivian steeled herself against the appealing beauty of the petitioner's eyes. I am thinking only of what is best for you, Mary, she said crisply. I have felt for a long time that I am really in your way, and I don't mean to be so selfish any longer. She paused to look at Mary's imploring face, then added, with calculating cruelty, I am very fond of you, Mary, and I always shall be. But it is nonsense to suppose that we shall always live together. We couldn't, you see. But the college, Felice, pleaded Mary, surely you haven't forgotten all of our plans. You know you promised to stay with me always, always, Felice. And we have arranged the courses of study, and how the girls are to wear gowns of pink and white and yellow and blue instead of plain black. You can't have forgotten. Miss Vivian shrugged her slim shoulders impatiently. It was very amusing to talk about, she admitted. But as a matter of fact, you must remember, my dear, that we could do nothing of the sort without a lot of money, and that you are determined not to have. I have thought of it all over and over again, persisted poor Mary, winking back her tears. I am really not so foolish as you seem to think, Felice. Even if the money goes to a board of trustees instead of to me, I see no reason why we may not carry out our plans. I wrote to my guardian, and asked him if he would arrange for you to be president of the college, and for me to be dean. And what did Mr. Chantry say? Inquired Miss Vivian, arching her brows with a pitying smile. He is very sarcastic and unpleasant as usual, sighed Mary. Still, I haven't given up hope. We shall have to wait. For a long time, perhaps. But I shall not mind if you won't, darling. This is his letter. My dear Mary, I am sorry to see that in your case, the so-called higher edgier, does not appear to have developed in the least your sense of relativity, ordinarily called common sense. Your scheme is a very pretty one, and quite what I should have expected from you. But, unfortunately, this is not what I should have expected from you. But, unfortunately, the only way you can be sure of doing as you wish is to comply with the conditions of your Aunt Lydia Adams' will. If you care to consider my advice, you will accept Jerome, who is still in the market, and doubtless available. As for the presidency of that higher edgier, as for the presidency of that hypothetical college, while you would undoubtedly be able to wield considerable influence in the selection of its official head, that influence must be brought to bear upon the proper persons at the proper time and place. I have the honour, madam, to remain very respectfully yours, Isaac Chantry. Would you consider Jerome, if he should offer himself again, inquired Miss Vivian, after a discreet pause, you know that I would not, said Mary. She returned the letter to its envelope, her white hands trembling a little. Then she fixed her clear eyes upon her friend. Are you tired of me, Felice? She asked. Do you want me to go away? These two questions quite exactly expressed what Miss Vivian was thinking at that minute. She was tired of Mary, and she wished heartily that she would go away, somewhere, anywhere, with her embarrassing devotion and her childish impossible plans. But she did what 99 women out of 100 would have done in like circumstances. As she looked into Mary's lovely, beseeching eyes, all the tenderness and pity of a nature which was, after all, hard only at the core, after the highly respectable pattern of a peach or a plum, welled over in murmured words and gentle caresses. She called Mary her dear old honeypot, her sweetest love, her dearest, dearest of darlings. She assured her, unblushingly, that she should be very, very unhappy, actually heartbroken indeed, if parted from her Mary, and ended by offering to do her hair in a new way, all of which soothed poor Mary into a lovely glow of happiness and gratitude, in which she appeared more than ever like a big, beautiful child. That afternoon, Mary went out by herself to think, she told Felice gravely, and the latter accepted her transient release with a little shrug of mingled gratitude and pity. The place which Mary chose as a tristing place with her confused thoughts could hardly have been more beautiful. But neither purple seas, nor the rich variety of woodland and meadow spread out under a sky of loveliest azure, held any answer to the puzzling questions which appeared to demand immediate solution. In her own peculiarly slow and illogical way, Mary had arrived at one or two tardy conclusions. She must either marry, she told herself, or give up her plans for a college in Hawaii. Her aunt Lydia's fortune did not matter except as it linked itself with Felice, linked with Felice, the despised legacy took over an appearance of supreme importance. She set herself to consider the hated condition attached to the bequest with a deliberation and seriousness which she had not yet brought to it. It had been indistinctly impressed upon her mind that a wife should love her husband. How this phenomenon was even remotely possible, she could scarcely imagine. Men, as they had hitherto appeared to her abstracted eyes, were ugly creatures, overgrown, uncouth, awkward. Their deep voices grated upon her ear. Their bold eyes roused her to vague alarms and vague indignations. She shivered in the warm summer air as Jerome Chantry's full-fed, middle-aged, complacent visage rose before her mental vision. He appeared to bend gloatingly over her. He was about to touch her cheek with his lips. She sprang to her feet with a little scream of terror and hatred. Far off in the valley at her feet, a man clad in dull blues was at work among the young corn. Mary's unhappy thoughts fluttered to this distant figure quite unaware and hovered about it uncertainly. After a while, she walked slowly down the hill. What she was thinking as she went, she could not possibly have explained to herself or to anyone. Her large eyes were fastened upon the blue-shirted figure. She moved steadily toward it. Down in the valley, the blue-shirted man was working busily among the springing ranks of young corn. The green blades were as yet quite small and slender and about their roots crept various wild plants, bearing a profusion of tiny common flowers, yellow and white and pink.  Now and again, he stooped to pull one from its chosen foothold next to the growing corn. He appeared determined to spare none of them, yet a curious regret clouded his keen eyes as he struck hither and yawn at the tender things. The dull clink of his hoe against the loose stones, making a subdued accompaniment to his thoughts, which ran musically in a single narrow channel. Where her delicate feet had touched the earth, green herbage flowering sprang, he repeated. He could not, for the life of him, recall the second line. There was both love and longing in it, he knew, pursuing someone as she had pursued the flying pages of her manuscript. Green herbage flowering sprang he again repeated to himself with a tolerant smile at his own folly and stooped to pull a fragrant pink clover upon which a wandering bee had settled. The man fixed his blue eyes upon it thoughtfully, the remembered vision of the slender young figure in its rose-coloured gown, linking itself curiously with the flower and its eager bee. No one save a poet could possibly have thought the thoughts the blue-shirted man was thinking while Mary was walking slowly toward him across the fields, not knowing wither she was going, nor yet why she went. No one save a gentleman in the primal unspoiled meaning of the word could have watched her approach with prophetic eyes which seemed to see beyond the present into the long vistas of past and future. End of Chapter 3 Recording by David Granville Young Chapter 4 of The Princess and the Ploughman This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org The Princess and the Ploughman by Florence Morse Kingsley Chapter 4 If thoughts are winged things, more mysteriously alive, more subtly powerful than any exploited energy in the universe, then the action of the girl who was coming toward the man needs little explanation. She was coming to him as the bee had flown to its clover. He saw her when she was yet a little way off and waited quietly for her approach. It seemed to him he had known all along that she would come, that he had already watched her unnumbered times coming to him across the fields. Her rich beauty glowing flower-like against the soberer tones of earth and sky. She was a part of his landscape as the great, white, deep, bosomed clouds were a part of the July heavens. She belonged to him as the bee belonged to its clover. As for Mary, she was wondering confusedly why she had come and, still wondering, she drew yet nearer and looked up into his face. You wanted me, he asked confidently. Yes, she answered. He waited for her to speak further. Then, seeing that her face was clouded and tremulous like a child's on the verge of tears, he said very gently, yet with the authority of a strong man, tell me what troubles you. Come, we will sit down under the tree yonder. How can I tell you, she said? Then, forlornly, you could not help me. Yes, he said. I can help you. That is why you came to me. I can help you, and I will. She remained silent for a time under the shelter of the wide-spreading oak which cast tremulous green shadows on her face and dress. Watching her unobtrusively, he saw the painful swelling of her white throat and the unshed tears shining on her lashes. The sight roused him to vague anger. Involuntarily, his sinewy brown hands clinched themselves. Her eyes turned to him at last. If I only knew you, she murmured, you look so strong and kind. In reality, he answered, you do know me. His eyes held hers for a long minute. Now you shall tell me what troubles you, he finished quietly. It is not, she hesitated, like any other trouble in the world. It is about Felice. You mean Miss Vivian? Yes. She sighed and looked away from him across the fields. I love her, she added simply. And doesn't she love you, he asked, with a slow smile? Oh, yes.  I haven't anything to build a college with except Aunt Lydia's money, she said. And I can't have that unless. I'm afraid I don't quite understand, he said, with careful politeness. Who is Aunt Lydia? Aunt Lydia has been dead for 15 years, she told him. She left all her money to me to do as I liked with, if I would do as she liked. How did you guess it? Aunt Lydia was never married, but she believed every woman should marry. She said that unless I that I must. She said that you must marry or lose the money. Who told you about it? No one. I guessed it. Or perhaps your thoughts came to me before you did. How can thoughts go anywhere? He shook his head gravely. I can't tell you that, he said. But they do sometimes, especially when one is thinking intently about another person. And were you thinking about me? I was thinking of you as you came across the field. I had been thinking of you as I worked. She was silent, gravely considering his reputation. She was silent, gravely considering his reply. Well then, if you know about Felice and about me and about Aunt Lydia's will, what ought I to do? He blushed stealthily under all his tan. I don't think I understand about Miss Vivian, he said at last. What has she to do with this? Mary flashed an astonished glance at him.  Then her eyes clouded with fear and regret. Felice says that I ought to marry somebody so that I can have Aunt Lydia's money to build a college in Hawaii with. Aunt Lydia was interested in Hawaii, and if I don't have the money, it is all to go to build a college for women there. But Felice and I, if we had the money, we would build the college and stay together always. We promised, you know, and it would break my heart to leave her. He trembled a little under the impact of a sudden wild desire. I don't care at all for the money, she was saying, sadly. I can work and earn all that I need. I care only for Felice and for all that we have planned to do together. She glanced at him doubtfully. I wonder why I have told you this. I ought not to have told anyone. On the contrary, he said, you have told me because I am, perhaps, the only person in the world who can help you. He drew a deep breath. There is only one thing wanting to put everything right. He went on deliberately. You must marry me. She shrank away from him as if frightened at his bold suggestion. Oh, no, she said faintly. I couldn't do that. I shall never marry anyone. Miss Vivian knows who I am, he went on thoughtfully. At least her father does. I am a thoroughly respectable farmer, quite independent of anyone's opinion and free to do as I please, and I shall be glad to serve you in this difficult matter of the will, in the only way that a man can serve you effectually and I ask nothing in return. She was looking at him doubtfully. Do you mean that you would stay here and let me go away with Felice and build the college, she asked? Yes. But would I be obliged to wear a wedding ring and be called by your name? I don't even know your name. My name, he told her gravely, is Hugh Ghent. You may leave the ring in my keeping and bear the name that pleases you best. Why, she asked, after a long silence, do you wish to do this for me? I shall, perhaps, tell you when you have asked me for the third time, he said. His blue eyes meeting hers steadily. At present you would not be interested to know. But if I do not ask you a second time, I shall never tell you. She pondered his reply in puzzled silence. After all, she said, it makes no difference, you will marry me and you will expect nothing from me? You said that you would ask nothing? I said that I would ask nothing. If I am ever to receive anything at your hands, it will be because you give it to me of your own free will. I could give you money, she said, meditatively, then drew back frightened before the sudden blaze of anger in his eyes. A man, he said, does not accept money from the woman he do not say that to me again, Mary. I will not, she promised breathlessly. But would it be right and kind for me to to go away and have everything I wanted and leave you here without anything? I should want to be sure that you, that I, I could never leave Felice. You must understand that, she finished. I understand, he assured her patiently. You will marry me nearly to secure your fortune. I shall be no worse for the transaction and you will be infinitely better off. It is quite simple, is it not? Any man ought to be willing to perform so slight a service for a woman. She eyed him questioningly. It sounds like a small thing to do, she admitted. But I am afraid it isn't really. And Felice will scold me or laugh. She often laughs at me and I think she supposes that I do not know it, but I do. He smiled. And now you are laughing at me, she cried indignantly. But I do not matter, he reminded her. You do not care what I think. No, she agreed. There is really no reason why I should care what you think and yet she gazed at him with a child's frank curiosity. I can't help wondering why you are so, so kind to me. And that makes me care a little. And it was really very odd, when one stops to think of it, that I should have asked you. I mean that I should have told you. Not knowing you. Not even knowing your name. You said you were thinking about me when you saw me coming. Why should you have thought about me at all? I will tell you some time, he said. But first I should like to know why you came. You are coming to speak to me? She shook her head. I was thinking of how I dislike men, she said, simply. Particularly one man, and as I was thinking I just walked along and presently I saw you. I didn't mean to speak to you. His eyes shone with a sudden splendour of blue light. I was thinking of how, where your delicate feet had touched the earth, green herbage flowering sprang, he said in a low, shaken voice. I disliked to cut out the weeds. They are really flowers, yet it had to be done. She was looking sweetly puzzled. Oh, she said at last. You remembered my quotation from Hesiod's Theogony. It was Aphrodite whose delicate feet touched the earth, not mine. And what was it that tracked her steps, he entreated. I haven't been able to recall the second line. Love tracked her steps, quoted Mary softly. And enchanted longing pressed hard after. Then, for the first time in her life, she blushed divinely. He waited till the exquisite aurora had faded, half averting his eyes as if the sight of it were too holy for the eyes of a man. I must be going, stammered Mary, a new and painful self-consciousness tingling her downcast face. Felice will be wondering what has become of me. Stay with me a moment more, he begged. You will always be with Felice after this, and I, you know, shall be here. There is the marriage to be spoken of. The sooner it is over, the better for you, and for me it does not matter. He drew a little farther away, and his voice steadied to its usual calm, even monotone. I will make all my efforts, and tomorrow, will tomorrow be too soon? No, Mary's lips formed the monosyllable faintly. Must I tell Felice, she asked? Why, certainly, he answered coolly. Miss Vivian is the one chiefly concerned in the matter, I should say. Bring her with you to-morrow. I will provide a second witness. And if—if I should— Oh, I don't know what Felice will say. I am afraid I have done a very— It is all quite right, he said, with no hint of anything safe strong kindness in his tone. It isn't usual, I'll admit. I have asked you to marry me, simply to extricate you from a very unpleasant dilemma, and you have, very wisely, decided to accept my service. It will all be over in a matter of half an hour, and then you will be quite sure that you will accept my service. It will all be over in a matter of half an hour, and then you will be quite free to follow your own wishes. That is all there is to it. She drew a deep breath. Put in that way, she murmured. It sounds very—very— Very matter of fact, he finished for her. He was watching her carefully as he spoke. You may put it to Miss Vivian in just that way. She will, of course, make such inquiries as seen best with regard to my general character and eligibility. By that I mean my freedom from any previous matrimonial bond. It will be quite legal and regular, I assure you. Your guardian will be perfectly satisfied that the conditions of the will have been met. She was looking at him with a new anxiety. I forgot, she said, that after this—this marriage, you will not be free any longer. Suppose you should— She paused, obviously searching for the right words. He waited patiently for the end of her halting sentence. If you should, some time, wish to marry someone else, someone you could love and who loved you, what would you do? I will let you know when that time arrives, he told her gravely. In the meantime, do not give yourself the slightest uneasiness with regard to it. That, you will remember, is my affair. Then I do not have to think about you at all. She spoke with an air of mingled relief and resentment. And you, you will not be obliged to think of me again. You have put it precisely, he said cheerfully. I beg that you will not, after tomorrow, think of me again, and I? I shall think of you if I choose, she cried. Why should I not think of you? I shall be forced to think of you when I am very happy with Felice, you know, because it will be to you that I owe it all. It would be very ungrateful of me never to think of you. Of course it will be different with you. There will be no reason why you should think of me unless you— Again he waited imperturbably for the conclusion of her remark, and when it was not forthcoming, he smiled a little, then sighed.  I forgot, she said, presently, without turning her head. To ask you at what time you—I mean, when shall we? It must be at noon, he said, meditatively, when the shadows are under foot. Yes, let it be at this time tomorrow, and the place. It shall be wherever you please. She gazed about her with wide grey eyes. At the blue sea veiled in purest violet, where the sky stooped to clasp it. At the distant dunes shining in the sun. At the peaceful undulations of field and meadow, and the young corn springing at her feet. Why should it not be here? she stammered. He bared his head to the strong sunlight. It shall be here, he said. End of Chapter 4 Recording by David Granville Young Chapter 5 When Mary opened her eyes on the morning of her wedding day, it was like no other awakening she could remember. Her first thought was of Hugh Ghent, as he had stood with bared head among the young blades of springing corn. It must be at noon, he had said, when the shadows are under foot. She lay quite still, gazing out of her open window, over wide stretches of purple sea, rising and falling, in long, even swells under the pink dawn. When the shadows are under foot, she murmured to herself, and wondered dreamily what he had meant by the words. His strong featured face with its keen blue eyes, seemed still to be gazing at her, calmly, seriously, but with exceeding kindness. It occurred to her presently that she had not yet told Felicia of her plans for the day. She had listened in silence to Felicia, ranging a morning expedition to a neighbouring village. I cannot go, she had objected briefly. But when pressed for a reason, she had found no words of explanation. She arose when the first long, level ray of sunlight flashed across the ocean, and slipping into a white wrapper, stole noiselessly across the corridor to her friend's room. Felicia lay upon her pillow soundly asleep.  Mary drew near like a benign and angel, and stood by the bedside gazing down at the sleeper, how beautiful Felicia was, she thought, with her long lashes shadowing the smooth, flushed oval of her cheek, her parted lips wistful with dreams. Her curling dark hair spread over the surrounding whiteness in charming disorder. Darling! murmured Mary, her clear eyes overflowing with exquisite maternal passion, not the less real in that she was ignorant of its true nature. The sleeper stirred a little under the steady light of those adoring eyes. Felicia whispered Mary, and sank to her knees by the bedside. The sleeper's curling lashes trembled, then flew wide. Felicia, dear, this is my wedding day. I came to tell you, aren't you glad, dear? Aren't you glad? Miss Vivian rubbed the dreams from her dark eyes, yawned petulantly, sighed, then put out a small protesting hand. Why, Mary, what in the world are you doing awake at this hour? It can't be. No, it isn't more than four o'clock. Go to bed. There's a good child, and let me sleep. It's... why, it's inhuman to wake a person at this hour of day. I only wanted to tell you that this is my wedding day, began Mary apologetically. I couldn't sleep, and so... You're what? Miss Vivian sat up with a dainty shriek of dismay. My wedding day repeated Mary gently. I ought to have told you yesterday that I was to be married today. But somehow I couldn't. Aren't you glad, dear? I shall never have to leave you again. Miss Vivian was thoroughly awake now. She pulled Mary to water. No, you aren't feverish, she decided. But you're talking in your sleep.  I'll go away if you like, for least, but it's quite true. I am to marry Hughent at noon today. He was very kind to me, though I can't think why. Kind? Hughent? At noon today? Hush, dear, urged Mary soothingly. It's nothing to be excited over, but don't you see, for least, it solves everything for us. It is what you have been entreating me to do all along, but I couldn't see how. Mary, said Miss Vivian severely. I confess my beclouded intellect is unable to follow you. Who is Hughent, and when and where did you meet him? I don't know any such person, unless you mean— Oh, Mary, you can't mean that farmer person who persists in refusing to part with his ancestral acres at any price. Father has been at loggerheads with him for years. You can't mean him. It must be the same person, I think, said Mary, meditatively, though I know nothing about his affairs. He said he was a farmer, and he said, too, that you would know him. Miss Vivian stared at her friend fixedly. Mary, she said, after a prolonged scrutiny, which the other bore meekly. Mary, did you ask that man to marry you? No, Felice. He asked me, how long have you known him? I— Why, I don't know him at all, replied Mary candidly, which isn't necessary, though. It is all quite right, quite regular and proper. Her eyes brightened as she recalled his words. He said that I was to tell you so. It was very nice of him. Don't you think so, dear? Nice, repeated Miss Vivian blankly. Don't you see, dearest, that all will come right now, everything that has troubled us. We can build the college and—and— Aren't you glad, oh, Felice? Miss Vivian was staring into space. Her dark brows nipped forbiddingly, her small mouth drawn into a scarlet bud. When she spoke, it was with businesslike coldness and brevity. I think, she said, that I begin to understand. You told this man about your affairs, and he offered to marry you out of hand. What does he expect in return? He expects nothing. Nothing, cried Mary. He said so. He said that, that it was a service any man would be willing to perform for a woman. The girl's voice sank almost to a whisper, as she added. I couldn't help but think of one of those nights of the round table. Epoch. Felice, for all he was wearing, a blue shirt and overalls. I think it was overalls. They were tucked into high boots, I remember. He will not separate us, Felice, nor come between us ever. He promised. Miss Vivian was eyeing her friend thoughtfully, under her long lashes. Perhaps he is after your money, she said deliberately. Did you tell him about the money? Felice, cried Mary. Her tone conveyed strong indignation, almost anger. Her eyes darkened curiously. Did you, honey? Persisted Miss Vivian sweetly. I told him everything. He understands about the money in the college and about you, Felice. What did you tell him about me? I told him that you were the only person I had ever loved or ever could love, breathed Mary. He, he understands. You needn't be afraid, Felice. Miss Vivian graciously permitted herself to be drawn into strong white arms. Her scarlet mouth dimpled mischievously under Mary's rose leaf kisses. She was thinking of many things which would have been quite unintelligible to Mary, and which therefore she did not see fit to put into words. Have you invited your guardian to the wedding, Miss Vivian-ass, after a pause filled with soft, enraptured murmurs, like those of a brooding dove? No, dear, said Mary, tranquilly. I only knew it myself yesterday. Where is it to be, please? In the cornfield. Mary! Why not? It wasn't like an ordinary wedding, you know, and I shouldn't want it to be in the church, nor in the house, nor in some dusty office. A dusty office would be far more suitable for such a wedding, I should say, commented Miss Vivian with some asperity. But a cornfield!  It must be here, of course, in the drawing-room. I am sure that would lend an air of respectability to the affair. Mary drew her tall figure to its fullest height. Please remember that this is my wedding, Felice, she said mildly. And I... We have quite decided that it shall be out of doors. It will not be necessary for you to tell anyone till it is over. I suppose the farmer-person suggested the cornfield. No, Felice. He asked me where it should be, and I... I thought... For the second time in her life a tide of rosy colour rolled gloriously over Mary's fair face. She was thinking confusedly of the lines from Hesiod and of the flowering weeds in the cornfield, which he had told her he disliked to disturb. There are flowers there, she added, dreamily. Miss Vivian observed this singular phenomenon in discreet silence. Very well, she acquiesced cheerfully. I will tell no one, and it shall be just as you and the happy bridegroom have arranged. Mary looked troubled. I want to ask you something, Felice, she said. He told me that this was his affair and that I was not to think of it, nor of him ever again after today. But I can't help thinking about him and that it might make him very unhappy some time this marriage. I mean, don't you think it might, Felice? If he... he should wish to marry, really marry someone else. It doesn't seem quite fair for me to have everything and go away. I shall have you, Felice, and all the money, and he will have nothing. He can easily get a divorce, murmured Miss Vivian, smothering a yawn, and I dare say he will do so at his first opportunity. I'm sure I should if I were in his place. Mary stared at her with wide, astonished eyes. Oh, no, she said in a low voice. You are mistaken, Felice. He would never do that. Never. Miss Vivian shrugged her slim shoulders. Go away, honey, do, she begged. Can't you see the time dying for another nap? It's ages yet before breakfast time. Mary stooped over the little figure on the bed with a sudden passion of emotion. I'm doing it for you, Felice, she whispered. Only for you. Then she turned and went away as she was bidden. Her voluminous white draperies sweeping the floor with the soft perfume rush of a summer breeze. End of Chapter 5 Chapter 6 of The Princess and the Ploughman This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Michelle Eaton The Princess and the Ploughman by Florence Morse Kingsley Chapter 6 Dr Vivian was engaged in examining his mail in the library of his villa with every token of that settled leisure which he was conscious of having fairly earned by a previous period of strenuous professional activity. When he looked up to behold his daughter standing in the doorway, are you busy, Daddy? inquired the apparition sweetly. Never too busy to listen to you daughter, replied the doctor, with a twinkle of fine humour in his eyes. What is it this morning, little one?  Why should there be? But you know, Daddy dear, I so seldom get a chance to have you all to myself nowadays. I have a tremendous rival in Mary. I am aware, admitted the doctor gravely. But I try to endure it. What is your programme for today? Miss Vivian pouted. Do you know? She complained confidentially. I think Mary is positively tiresome sometimes. Fancy her waking me out of her sound sleep at four this morning to tell me how much she loved me. How should you like that, Daddy? Dr Vivian, screwing up his face into a humourous brown. I expect I should suffer excruciatingly under such circumstances as I see you have, daughter. But I fancy Mary will come across somebody some of these days who will be big enough and strong enough to bear up under all the love she can give him. And like is not, ask for more. I am sure I hope so, for least wished devoutly. With this as a simple introduction she adroitly conducted the conversation by way of the new shrubberies the hot houses, the stables pausing artfully at the gardens to inquire with well simulated anxiety after some young fruit trees which had been lately put out. Dr Vivian fell into the trap with ease. We haven't the right soil for fruit, he began argumentatively as he pushed his mail aside with his fingers across his capacious waistcoat front. Now, for the successful culture of fruit you must have here for least as more pecan't made and meditations happily intervened to occupy her mind during the quarter of an hour or more that her father's rumbling voice was learnedly discoursing upon soils fertilisers, drainage, pruning and grafting as opposed to budding though to the unobservant paternal eye she was all the while paying the sweetest and most dutiful attention if only I could persuade that stubborn blockhead gent to sell me a few acres of his pasture land finished the doctor bringing down his broad hand with much unnecessary force upon his broad knee but one might as well try to buy property from the man in the moon one would think a man in his position would want the money murmured Felice with intelligent sympathy he must be a very coarse ignorant sort of person gent oh no he's an uncommonly intelligent well educated fellow as far as that goes but a curious duffer has ever lived the doctor chuckled reminiscently what does he do that is so queer daddy inquired Felice with a pretty interested air of making conversation oh nothing in particular that is nothing that would interest you daughter he's merely an unworldly impractical visionary sort capable of being and doing almost anything but wrapped up in his notions like a moth in a cocoon why gent is the sort of fellow who would leave a quarter of an acre of prime meadow grass uncut because there happened to be a ground sparrow's nest in the middle of it fact he did that very thing this summer and Peters assures me that last fall he left bushels of nuts under the trees and standing corn along the fences for the squirrels and woodchucks I don't take much stock in that sort of thing myself Felice considered these singular characteristics of the farmer person with her pretty head tilted thoughtfully to one side that all sounds rather nice to me she observed at length and as for his being odd there are plenty of odd people in the world I should think she added with innocent afterthought that his wife might persuade him to be more sensible and thrifty she looks a plain hard working sort of person I've noticed her picking vegetables in the garden gent isn't married the woman you've seen is his housekeeper and McEleni is quite another sort her father has been right hand man about the place since gent was a lad I fancy the old chap thinks he owns the farm by now I declare I believe if I could convince old Andrew that they didn't need the strip of pasture as much as I do perhaps I'd get it did you say that Mr. Gent was a widower inquired Felice with a smothered yawn indeed he must be very queer and a waggish eye upon his cross-questioner preserved gain getting shy a daughter he inquired gravely Gent is a bachelor but let me advise you not to attempt a flirtation with him he might clap you under his microscope to see what sort of an odd butterfly he'd captured Miss Vivian put up a disdainful little chin don't be silly daddy she advised Picontley I'm not interested in persons of that sort I simply asked a few questions about this farmer person too to pass away the time and because daddy dear I've heard you mention him so many times in connection with the gardens well he's a curious duffer no doubt of that grumbled a doctor submitting to an airy kiss upon the top of his bald head as he turned to his neglected male having solved her uneasy conscience by means of this casual interview the astute Miss Vivian went in search of the bride she found Mary attired in a cool white linen seated in a verandah chair doing nothing at all Mary's large finely modelled hands seemed incapable of any of the small intricate employments usual to women she had never been known to embroider or to crochet and her few blundering attempts at needlework had suffice to include it among the lost arts as far as she was concerned oh honey aren't you excited demanded Miss Vivian with anxious curiosity way down inside I mean outwardly you're as unruffled and sweet as a flower Mary withdrew her abstracted eyes from the blue rim of the ocean and turned them upon her friend why should I be excited Felice she inquired mildly I am certainly very happy to think our problems have been so easily solved and I've been wondering dearest if it wouldn't be best after all to have the girls wear pure white they're used to it you know and it's most becoming with their creamy yellow skins what are you talking about Mary looks surprised in a trifle hurt I was thinking of our Hawaiian students Felice what else should I be thinking of there will be nothing to prevent our going to work at once upon our plans we could start today Felice this very afternoon we couldn't possibly do anything of the sort Mary objected Miss Vivian crisply you will be obliged to acquaint your guardian with the fact of your marriage and then there will be a lot of legal business to be gone through with or you can touch your money I know Felice but we might go to Boston this afternoon and engage an architect to begin the plans for the buildings oh let us go today please Felice I don't think I should like to stay here after I I couldn't you know are you afraid of Mr. Gent inquired Felice gravely with certain astute qualms of her hastily placated conscience because if you are I should advise you to give up the affair at once it isn't too late I can send Peters down to the farm with a note saying you've changed your mind but I haven't changed my mind said Mary slowly and I'm not afraid of Mr. Gent what are you afraid of then Mary made no reply and after a discreet interval Miss Vivian added I think I ought to tell Daddy he could advise you far better than I Mary's great eyes swept the small figure of her friend with calm displeasure if I had wish for advice Felice I should have asked for it I am doing what is for the best I am sure of that but you said this morning that you were doing this all for me persisted Miss Vivian with an air of guilty reserve it makes me very uncomfortable to think of your taking such a tremendously important step for me if if anything should happen it would seem to be my fault and Mary please pay attention I am perfectly sure you won't always like me as well as you think you do now and then nothing will happen chimed in Mary sweetly it is all quite simple we will go away directly and oh Felice how happy and useful our lives will be have you realised it dear everything will be beautiful about us the great marble buildings I hope we can afford marble and the tropical gardens did you ever see a real tropical garden Felice with palms and roses everywhere and fountains springing among the green or running down the terraces into clear lily covered pools the Hawaiian girls are the prettiest creatures in the world so docile and affectionate and easily led I don't wonder Aunt Lydia was interested in them I hope we shall live to be old Felice perhaps as old as 50 or 60 and then after we are dead we will be buried side by side in a beautiful chapel which I shall build very near the college hall our statues shall stand under the dome not lying down stark and stiff but standing up together just as if we were alive and you shall be smiling as you are now Felice you are so beautiful when you smile Miss Vivienne's smile widened into irrepressible ripples of helpless laughter oh Mary honey she sighed and laughed and sighed again I didn't know you could be so eloquent I'm just crazy to be carved on a sarcophagus but how did you ever guess it then she glanced at her watch her face growing suddenly grave it is nearly noon she murmured do let me send Peters with a note Mary arose we will go directly she said wait just a minute beg Felice struck by a sudden thought she came back presently flushed and breathless and laden with roses a wedding without flowers would be too absurd nervously you must have roses Mary white ones and I shall carry pink ones that much at least shall be like other weddings Mary submitted in tranquil silence while Felice's small hands fluttered about her fastening clusters of creamy buds among the red brown braids of her hair and over her calmly beating heart End of Chapter 6 Chapter 7 of The Princess and the Plowman This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by K. L. Zelke The Princess and the Plowman by Florence Morse Kingsley Chapter 7 The two girls crossed the lawn in haste their fresh white frocks brushing the turf with a crisp flutter Where is the man inquired Miss Vivian of her silent companion I should think, reproachfully you might have suggested that he sent a cart at the least I shall ruin my shoes and so will you, honey He won't mind that murmured Mary abstractly her gray eyes appeared to radiate a mysterious light Her usually pale face was suffused with delicate color Of course not agreed Miss Vivian with a rueful little laugh he'll be thinking of other things She stopped short overwhelmed by a sudden realizing sense of what her friend was about to do Oh, Mary she entreated do wait a minute till we've had a chance to think I just know we ought to go back and tell Daddy or someone please, honey Mary walked steadily on She did not appear to have heard Miss Vivian's tardy protest Oh, if you're determined murmured Fulise on the verge of hysterical tears I can't help it or for that matter Daddy or anyone else it will just have to go on I wash my hands of it aren't you listening, Mary? Apparently Mary was not for she vows saved no reply and Miss Vivian observed that she quickened her pace Remember, you're not doing this for me I won't allow it, Mary Fulise gathered up her dainty skirts and ran hastily after the slim white vision which seemed to have been mysteriously translated to the world wherein the sights and sounds of earth were not apparent Pick up your gown, honey do, she urged if you will marry the farmer person in spite of everything Oh, Mary, isn't that he? Yes, it is Miss Vivian's anxious eyes had lighted upon a tall athletic figure clad unpretentiously in brown tweeds on the edge of the meadow Really, he doesn't look so very queer and impossible after all she whispered What, honey? with an air of strong relief he's actually good-looking she drew back with becoming bright maidenly subservancy to watch the fateful meeting between the two and was rewarded by the look in the farmer person's blue eyes as they fell upon Mary He was afraid she wouldn't come commented Miss Vivian I understand everything now murmured the sagacious observer later as the two walked away side by side without so much as a fleeting glance in her direction They have fallen crazily in love with each other but Mary, poor dear doesn't even suspect it I was beginning to think you had changed your mind he was saying to the tall silent girl at his side No, she said in a low tremulous voice I did not even think of changing my mind but I am afraid of me he asked gently bending his head to look searchingly into her face No, not of you of yourself then he persisted Would you prefer to postpone this or call it off altogether it can be done now, you know Mary looked up at him with the clear eyes of a canted child Oh, she murmured I am afraid it isn't fair to you if you were going to be sorry please say so before it is too late His eyes held hers for a long minute of silence We will go on, he said They had reached the cornfield now and Mary glanced at the pathway of evergreen twigs which covered the brown earth with a thick soft carpet This isle of fragrant greenery led straight through the field to where a group of giant pines strangely spared through generations of woodcutters cast a circle of cool shadow in the midst of the brilliant expanse of shimmering young corn All about the stony margin of this remnant of the virgin forest wild roses had sprung up and flourished exceedingly These were pink with the eager bloom of the New England Midsummer and above them swarms of butterflies yellow and white hovered and settled amorously in the brooding heat of the July noon A far off in the distant fields metal arcs were calling to one another with wild sweetness I think I ought to tell you that I have never been to a wedding before said Mary in a small, weak voice Nor I, he confessed with a reassuring smile But this will be a very simple affair and soon over It was cool and dark within the solemn aisles of the pine grove like a church Mary thought confusedly The wind shook spicy gusts of fragrance from the great boughs overhead and from ranks of lilies uprising like burning lamps of white and gold on either side of the Sylvan altar behind which waited a spare, black-garbed authority figure There followed a sonorous murmur of prayer and benediction simple and few after the manner of the dissenting puritans of the North Country Hugh, do you take this woman to be your wedded wife? Do you promise to love her to cherish her and forsaking all others to keep her till by death you are parted?  Do you promise to love him to cherish him and forsaking all others to keep him till by death you are parted? Hugh Ghent felt the frightened start and flutter of the hand that rested in his clasp I she faltered breathlessly as she went the words of the service float smoothly on the officiating clergyman being benignly accustomed to timid and voiceless brides the ring was slipped into its appointed place on the bride's white hand the final prayers and benedictions were said and they too were made one according to laws define and man-made according to stereotyped words of congratulation uttered by the smiling clergyman pray permit me to tender you both my most hearty felicitations on this auspicious occasion you have certainly chosen a most beautiful spot in which to exchange your marriage vows with your husband Mrs. Ghent we should ever remember that the woods were God's first temple constructed the first house of worship made with visible means so to speak may I ask madam if you contemplate residing permanently in this section of the country if so I shall hope to number you among my congregation I do not expect to stay here after today began merry in a tremulous but determined voice and I think I am sure I ought to tell you about the wedding before and I didn't understand that I be quiet honey for heaven's sakes murmured Feliz Vivian clasping her friend with oracular foresight it won't do any good to explain now and it'll make a heap of trouble but Feliz did you hear would he ask me to promise demerred the bride I couldn't let him suppose that I know merry look he is waiting to present some people to you just keep cool honey it's almost over these are my best and lifelong friends merry Hugh Gant was saying in his deep pleasant voice they will be as faithfully yours if you will let them she turned to look into the faces of an elderly man and a middle aged woman who were gazing at her gravely their eyes eloquent with unuttered questions Andrew McIllahenny was a small stoop-shouldered old man with a face which reminded merry vaguely of a pictured profit framed as it was in a profusion of snowy hair and beard there was an air of solemn authority about his thin aquiline features and shrewd deep set eyes quite in keeping with the character this came as a great surprise to us mayam he was saying slowly as you must know I had thought to be equine with master Hugh's wife from her youth up but nevertheless I wish you joy, mistress Gant merry caught the inflection of mild rebuke in his words and the color mounted in her soft cheeks oh, she faltered penitently sorry? father only means that we should like to have known you better before you came so near to us put in the woman her rich contralto tones breaking upon the ear with a certain surprise married troubled eyes turned to her kind plain face with the instinctive appeal of woman to woman you don't understand, of course she said helplessly but I felt her halting speech by a masterful hand which drew her abruptly aside we're all going to the house now, Pramila he said to the woman my wife will speak to you there take the others away, will you then somehow they were alone in the pine woods this is my day, merry he said after silence which to merry seemed filled with a strangely loud beating of her heart today will you do as I ask for just this once merry gazed at him helplessly I didn't understand what it was like to be married she murmured I couldn't have done it if I had known and you you promised how could you I promised, yes his eyes were searching her exquisite troubled face there is no lie between us what do you mean she faltered I am afraid I don't understand he did not answer and after a little she went on a piteous tremor in her voice I must explain to that man that clergyman and the others it isn't fair to you what must you think of me for consenting to such a thing for speaking to you at all of my troubles merry he said gently will you listen to me you know we talked this over this matter of the marriage I mean and all I said to you was that it was a small service for a man to do for a woman I meant that merry everything shall be just as we arranged it yesterday but I want you to give me out of your whole life merry this one day I want you to enter my home and eat one meal at my table and look at the sea and the hills out of my windows then you shall go away with your friend and I will explain everything that needs explanation will you do this for me she was still gazing at him with her large clear eyes so like the eyes of an innocent candid child he was reminded her fresh you want me just for this one day to be like your wife is that what you mean I should like you to be my guest today he corrected her quietly I shall ask nothing from you as my wife nothing but her hand upon which the narrow circle of gold was shining you told me to to leave the ring with you she said after a while but I I think I should like to keep it he drew a hard breath you ask me merry if you would be forced to wear the ring and I told you I would keep it if you wished me to it is yours to do with as you will then I shall keep it she said meditatively I can't see why I should care for it but I do you haven't told me yet whether you will be my guest today he said at length disturbing her reverie which seemed centered curiously on the circle of gold upon her hand I have never worn a ring she murmured I never cared for them but this is different somehow his grave smile recalled her to herself I will go with you she said hurriedly and I need not say anything to any of them I shall be glad if you will leave all explanations to me he told her patiently then I will do it she said with a sigh of relief it would be very hard I am sure sorry he assured her come let us go they will be waiting for us end of chapter 7


Imagine there was a way to guarantee your success in achieving your goals but in exchange you needed to give up meaningful relationships, secondary interests, service to others, and time developing your relationship with God. That is what hustle culture is offering us. Hustle culture is a mindset that idolizes hard work in pursuit of ultimate supremacy. Well, maybe more like just achieving your goals and getting validation and being successful. So what's so wrong with this? Hustle is better than laziness, right? Right, but from my experience it's far too easy to just trade the vice of undisciplined laziness for all-consuming and unhealthy hustle. In this video I want to share my first-hand experience of getting swept up into hustle culture as a 19-year-old content creator and share five principles that helped me break free. I was 18 years old and about to drop out of university. Why? Well, here's the thing. I actually really like school. I like studying. I liked writing essays.  I would show up for class every day and I'd just be so restless. I wanted to jump out of my own skin. I couldn't shake this feeling like I was wasting my time, like I was supposed to be doing something else. For me my dream was to help people follow Jesus daily with online social media content similar to what I'm doing right now but at the time I only had like 100 followers on one platform and maybe a couple hundred on another platform.  But honestly, and this is a story for another time, I decided that it was worth the risk that you need to do things that sometimes seem scary or unpredictable or absolutely crazy in order to follow where God wants you. And for me that meant leaving university and pursuing this as my life's calling and passion. But it honestly didn't take me very long to realize that this was going to be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. While all sorts of other responsibilities in my life were flaring up like other work I had and family responsibilities, I tried to dedicate every spare moment to pursuing this dream of making content and writing and filming. I love the work, it was so fun, it was so fulfilling creatively. But as time went on, I encountered a harsh reality. The algorithm was never satisfied.  And not only that, but at this point, my anxiety and fear were a constant companion in all the creative endeavors that I was aspiring towards. My fear and anxiety would tell me this is never going to work. In those early days, my identity was so tied to the views and the followers and the Patreon subscribers. It was so tied up into who I was, so every time a video didn't do well or a piece of social media content didn't actually strike a chord with people, I felt so debilitated and sad, honestly, like it was it was depressing sometimes. But honestly, each time I encountered that disappointment and discouragement, it honestly motivated me more to keep going, to put in longer hours and work harder to actually make something of myself. So I continued on with the affirmation of social media productivity gurus and entrepreneurs online that said hustle hard because that's what it takes to make it. And I believe them. People talk about the hustle, but then you're talking about your six o'clock, you know, happy hour drink or your video game or this and that. And here we are on holidays and everybody's going to their holiday party. And I've got one meeting coming up right now, two meetings after that, we're giving all my email. And so while everybody's drinking some eggnog, I continue to hustle. Unfortunately, motivational talks from Tony Robbins and Hustle Culture podcast by Gary V only work for so long before you actually stop getting rejuvenation from them and you just burn out. Then fear and anxiety would come right back and pull me out again back into the work. But that wasn't the only thing. I felt guilty for going out for socializing for spending time with my family for volunteering at church because I was quote unquote wasting my time when I should have been hustling at my dream job because at that point, even though I was putting so much effort and time into making content and pursuing that dream job, I felt so empty and sad because I had stripped away all the meaningful things in my life that brought me joy and that I was actually passionate about as well. I've noticed that Hustle Culture feeds on three things. Guilt, fear and greed. Guilt, I feel like I'm not doing enough. I feel like I'm not working hard enough. You might have experienced this too. It's a Sunday afternoon.  You've set this time aside to rest and recuperate. You may be watching a movie or some TV and all of a sudden you feel this deep guilt within you because you're not being productive or you're not getting things done. Even though you've set this time aside to establish balance in your life, you still feel that guilt and Hustle Culture thrives on that guilt. Fear, we push ourselves beyond what is reasonable because we fear falling behind our peers or we fear not being able to accomplish the things we want to accomplish. Greed, I've fallen into this too. You want to make more money. You want to get more followers. You're greedy for that next step, that next dose of material possessions or validation or whatever else that may be. For me, it was a little bit of each one of these ingredients that made a poisonous concoction. So what did I do? Well, I knew there needed to be a change in my life and it needed to come quick. But honestly, what was I going to do? Just cut back on everything and not achieve my dream. I knew that I needed to work extra hard in order to accomplish what I wanted to accomplish. But there had to be balance somewhere, a meaningful, healthy life that incorporated both hustle and rest. Here's what I believe to be true. God placed us on this earth to live every moment for him. And I used to think that that means that we always need to be working. But honestly, he gave us this earth to enjoy his good gifts, his good blessings. So yes, that means that we're working hard when it's time to work. But it also means that we're enjoying family, fellowship, food, all these, you know, alliteration there. Hey, you know, we're enjoying the good things that he's given us. And that's good. And that's right. With all that in mind, and I hope you've enjoyed hearing my story a little bit, here are five things that I did to break free from this toxic hustle culture mentality. First thing, set specific boundaries with your work. For me, that means no working on Sundays. I work for myself quite a bit at the time. And so that means I'm able to organize my schedule for you might be a little bit harder if you have kind of a weird work schedule, or it's less predictable, but try as best you can to set aside a day or an evening or something like that where you can intentionally rest. And even when you experience that guilt or the fear of falling behind, you can tell yourself, no, like this is important time where I need to be intentional, just as intentional as I am with getting my work done to be productive. I need to be intentional about getting my rest in so I can be effective and efficient in the God in the ways that God wants me to be to prioritize intentional action over busy work all the time. When I experienced this guilt, even if I don't have something to do, I'll figure out something to do all make up work for myself so that I can ease that guilt. This is not a good thing to do. You got to confront that guilt straight on and say, Hey, look, I don't have to be working now, because it's way better than to do that than to just make up random tasks that aren't actually that important. Because to you're going to wear yourself out. When there is something important to do, you won't have enough energy to do it. So that's second thing that's been really helpful for me. Number three, and I'm not super good at this yet, but create a life outside of the hustle, join a knitting club, join a volleyball team, play the guitar, you know, like to play the guitar. I think I want to, you know, take singing lessons. I think that would be pretty fun. But I'm trying to be intentional about taking these steps to establish somewhat of a life. Like I kind of take it as, you know, my personal joke that I have no life, but honestly, the joke kind of gets old. And so taking those steps, figure out some other activities that you can do. Number four is focus on fostering three to four friendships a month. And I know what you're saying. Isaac, I don't have that many friendships that I can, you know, I have to meet up with people that often. And if that's the case, look, ask somebody out for coffee from church, somebody that seems interesting. Look, if it doesn't work out, you guys don't click, it's all good, you know, try and reach out to some people that are your age and maybe in your same kind of space of career or passion, or maybe not, maybe they're totally different. It's also just rejuvenating to get the perspective of somebody else and help you get out of your own skin and your own thoughts about what you got to do and how you're going to, you know, progress your life into somebody else. And what are they doing with their life and how can you pour into their life? Number five, learning to say, no, there are a lot of good things you can do with your time. A lot of good opportunities that you can take on. But there's so much freedom in learning when to say, no, yes, it's important to be discerning and not just say no to everything and, you know, catch yourself off from the world. But it's really great to be able to say, hey, like, this is good. And I think, you know, what you guys are doing over there is great or whatever, if it's like an opportunity to serve somewhere or, you know, take on a role, you're like, hey, that's awesome.  You don't want to burn yourself out because you're so ineffective. If you do that, believe me, I know. And when you're in that space of just saying yes to everything, all of a sudden, everything becomes a burden.  Establishing boundaries was an essential step I took in breaking free from hustle culture. When I recognize what I truly valued and what I wanted to intentionally pursue in my life, it became that much more easy to say no to things that didn't align and break free from the guilt and fear and shame and greed that was trying to coax me back into hustle culture but rather to use these things that God has given me for his glory and that was enough. This video was brought to you by my patrons on Patreon. If you enjoyed it and enjoyed the content that I make on here, I'd ask you to consider heading to the link in my bio and signing up on Patreon. It is only because of your guys' support that I can continue to make this content and helping people follow Jesus daily. If you enjoyed this video, give it a like down below and subscribe because I'm putting out new videos all the time. Thanks again for watching and I'll see you next time. God bless.


We have our factory footage right here from Adafruit and more. Take it away. Hey, factory away. Adafruit factory. Radio Shack sign. So there was a rumor we bought Radio Shack because we had, well, someone gifted us this. But we did get a Radio Shack sign. I bought a Radio Shack sign. So this is on the back of my desk. It just says Hack R right now. And I'm going to do a post because I think Radio Shack should rebrand as Hack. Hacker. And you would buy gaming stuff, keyboards, all the things that a lot of people are doing. And this would be a neat way to revitalize that brand, I think. But any who, other factory footage wouldn't be complete without a time lapse from Disney Across Street. They have this big flag that's been added over there. And a member and I was talking about rainbows. This was right outside our window here in Adafruit. Oh no, I missed it. Double rainbow. Empire State Building. I believe it was on Friday when it was raining. Oh, cool. Wow, beautiful. Yeah. Yeah. That's one.