"Well, I've discovered," laughed the old gentleman. "Good is always coming out of Nazareth."

"It seems to me that we've met before," remarked Mr. Hearn, graciously and reflectively.

"Yes, sir," I explained. "As a reporter I called on you once or twice for information."

"Ah, now it comes back to me. Yes, yes, I remember; and I also remember that you did not extract the information as if it had been a tooth.

Your manner was not that of a professional interviewer. You must meet with disagreeable experiences in your calling."

"Yes, sir; but perhaps that is true of all callings."

"Yes, no doubt, no doubt; but it has seemed to me that a reporter's lot must frequently bring him in contact with much that is disagreeable."

"Mr. Morton is not a reporter," said Adah, a trifle indignantly; "he's the editor of a first-cla.s.s paper."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Hearn, growing much more benign; "why, Emily, you did not tell me that."

"No, I only spoke of Mr. Morton as a gentleman."

"I imagine that Miss Warren thinks that I have mistaken my calling, and that I ought to be a gardener."

"That's an odd impression. Mr. Yocomb would not even trust you to weed," she retorted quickly.

"I have a fellow feeling for weeds; they grow so easily and naturally.

But I must correct your impressions, Miss Adah. I'm not the dignitary you imagine-only _an_ editor, and an obscure night one at that."

"Your night work on one occasion bears the light very well. I hope it may be the earnest of the future," said Mr. Hearn impressively.

I felt that he had a covert meaning, for he had glanced more than once at Miss Warren when I spoke, and I imagined him a little anxious as to our mutual impressions.

"I feel it my duty to set you right also, Mr. Hearn," I replied, with quiet emphasis, for I wished to end all further reference to that occasion. "Through Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb's kindness, I happened to be an inmate of the farmhouse that night. I merely did what any man would have done, and could have done just as well. My action involved no personal peril, and no hardship worth naming. My illness resulted from my own folly. I'd been overworking or overworked, as so many in my calling are. Conscious that I am not in the least heroic, I do not wish to be imagined a hero. Mrs. Yocomb knows what a bear I've been," I concluded, with a humorous nod toward her.

"Yes, I know, Richard," she said, quietly smiling.

"After this statement in prose, Mr. Hearn, you will not be led to expect more from me than from any ordinary mortal."

"Indeed, sir, I like your modesty, your self-depreciation."

"I beg your pardon," I interrupted a little decisively; "I hope you do not think my words had any leaning toward affectation. I wished to state the actual truth. My friends here have become too kind and partial to give a correct impression."

Mr. Hearn waved his hand very benignly, and his smile was graciousness itself as he said:

"I think I understand you, sir, and respect your sincerity. I've been led to believe that you cherish a high and scrupulous sense of honor, and that trait counts with me far more than all others."

I understood him well. "Oh, you _are_ shrewd!" I thought; "but I'd like to know what obligations I'm under to you?" I merely bowed a trifle coldly to this tribute and suggestive statement, and turned the conversation. As I swept my eyes around the table a little later, I thought Miss Warren looked paler than usual.

"Does she understand his precautionary measures?" I thought. "He'd better beware--she would not endure distrust."

CHAPTER IX

A WRETCHED FAILURE

The excitement that had sustained me was pa.s.sing away, and I felt myself growing miserably weak and depressed. The remainder of the meal was a desperate battle, in which I think I succeeded fairly. I talked that it might not be noticed that I was eating very little; joked with Mr. Yocomb till the old gentleman was ruddy and tremulous with laughter, and made Reuben happy by applauding one of Dapple's exploits, the history of which was easily drawn from him.

I spoke often to both Adah and Zillah, and tried to be as frank and unconscious in one case as the other. I even made the acquaintance of Mr. Hearn's little girl--indeed, her father formally presented her to me as his daughter Adela. I knew nothing of his domestic history, and gained no clew as to the length of the widowhood which he now proposed to end as speedily as possible.

I was amused by his not infrequent glances at Adah. He evidently had a keen eye for beauty as for every other good thing of this world, and he was not so desperately enamored but that he could stealthily and critically compare the diverse charms of the two girls, and I imagined I saw a slight accession to his complacency as his judgment gave its verdict for the one toward whom he manifested proprietorship by a manner that was courtly, deferential, but quite p.r.o.nounced. A stranger present could never have doubted their relationship.

A brief discussion arose as to taste, in which Mr. Hearn a.s.sumed the ground that nothing could take the place of much observation and comparison, by means of which effects in color could be accurately learned and valued. In reply I said:

"Theories and facts do not always harmonize any more than colors. Miss Adah's youth and rural life have not given her much opportunity for observation and comparison, and yet few ladies on your Avenue have truer eyes for harmony in color than she."

"Mr. Morton being the judge," said the banker, with a profound and smiling bow. "Permit me to add that Miss Adah has at this moment only to glance in a mirror to obtain an idea of perfect harmony in color,"

and his eyes lingered admiringly on her face.

I was worsted in this encounter, and I saw the old gleam of mirthfulness in Miss Warren's eyes. How well I remembered when I first saw that evanescent illumination--the quick flash of a bright, genial spirit. "She delights in her lover's keen thrusts," was now my thought, "and is pleased to think I'm no match for him. She should remember that it's a poor time for a man to tilt when he can scarcely sit erect." But Adah's pleasure was unalloyed. She had received two decided compliments, and she found herself a.s.sociated with me in the new-comer's mind, and by my own actions.

"I frankly admit," I said, "that I'm a partial judge, and perhaps a very incompetent one." Then I was stupid enough to add: "But newspaper men are p.r.o.ne to have opinions. Mr. Yocomb was so sarcastic as to say that there was nothing under heaven that an editor did not know."

"Oh, if you judge by her father's authority, you are on safe ground, and I yield at once."

He had now gone too far, and I flushed angrily as we rose from the table. I saw, too, that Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb did not like it either, and that Adah was blushing painfully. It was one of those attempted witticisms that must be simply ignored.

My anxiety now was to get back to my room as speedily as possible.

Again I had overrated myself. The excitement of the effort was gone, and my heart was like lead. I, too, would no longer permit my eyes to rest even a moment on one whose ever-present image was only too vivid in spite of my constant effort to think of something else; for so complete was my enthrallment that it was intolerable pain to see her the object of another's man's preferred attentions. I knew it was all right; I was not jealous in the ordinary sense of the word; I merely found myself unable longer, in my weak condition, to endure in her presence the consequences of my fatal blunder. Therefore I saw with pleasure that I might in a few moments have a chance to slip back to my refuge as quietly as I had left it. Mrs. Yocomb was summoned to the kitchen; a farm laborer was inquiring for her husband, and he and Reuben went out toward the barn. Adah would have lingered, but the two children pulled her away to the swing.

Mr. Hearn and Miss Warren stood by me a moment or two as I sat on the lounge in the hall, and then the former said: "Emily, this is just the time for a twilight walk. Come, and show me the old garden;" and he took her away, with an air of proprietorship at which I sickened, to that place consecrated by my first conscious vision of the woman that I hoped would be my fair Eve.

The moment they were off the porch I tottered to the stairway, and managed to reach the turn of the landing, and there my strength failed, and I held on to the railing for support, feeling ill and faint. A light step came quickly through the hall and up the stairway.

"Why, Mr. Morton!" exclaimed Miss Warren, "you are not going up so soon?"

"Yes, thank you," I managed to say cheerily. "Invalids must be prudent.

I'm only resting on the landing a little."

"I found it rather cool and damp, and so came back for a shawl," she explained, and pa.s.sed on up to her room, for she seemed a little embarra.s.sed at meeting me on the stairs. In her absence I made a desperate effort to go on, but found that I would fall. I must wait till she returned, and then crawl up the best I could.

"You see I'm prudence personified," I laughed, as she came back. "I'm taking it so leisurely that I have even sat down about it."

"Are you not overtaxing yourself?" she asked gently. "I fear--"

"Oh, no, indeed--will sleep all the better for a change. Mr. Hearn is waiting for you, and the twilight isn't. Don't worry; I'll surpa.s.s Samson in a week."

She looked at me keenly, and hesitatingly pa.s.sed down the dusky stairway. Then I turned and tried to crawl on, eager to gain my room without revealing my condition; but when I reached the topmost stair it seemed that I could not go any further if my life depended on it. With an irritable imprecation on my weakness, I sank down on the topmost step.

"Mr. Morton," said a low voice, "why did you try to deceive me? You have gone far beyond your strength."