"You are living near the city?"

"Yes; at Lancaster. I give lessons in town."

"And you come in and out on these freezing days, and walk to and from the station?"

"It is not always so cold."

"Very well; I am going as far as Lancaster with you," said Dexter. "I hope I shall be welcome."

"Mr. Dexter, please do not."

But he simply smiled and threw back his head in his old dictatorial way, helped her from the carriage, bought tickets, secured for her the best seat in the car, and took his place beside her; it seemed to Anne that but a few minutes had pa.s.sed when they heard "Lancaster," and stepping out on the little platform, found the faithful Li in waiting, his comforter tied over his ears, and jumping up and down to keep himself warm. Anne had not ordered the red wagon, and he was not therefore allowed to bring it out; but the little freckled knight-errant had brought himself instead as faithful escort homeward.

"Is there no carriage here, or any sort of a vehicle?" said Dexter, in his quick, authoritative way. "Boy, bring a carriage."

"There ain't none; but you can have the red wagon. Horse good, and wagon first-rate. It'll be a dollar," answered Li.

"Go and get it, then."

The boy was gone like a dart, and in less time than any one else would have taken, he was back with the wagon, and Mr. Dexter (in spite of her remonstrance) was accompanying Anne homeward in the icy darkness. "But you will lose the return train," she said.

"I intend to lose it."

When they stopped at the gate, no light was visible; Anne knocked, but crippled old Nora was long in coming. When she did open the door, it was a room nearly as cold as the air outside into which the guest was ushered. As Li was obliged to return with the horse, his willing hands were absent, and the young mistress of the house went out herself, brought in candles and kindling-wood, and was stooping to light the fire, when Dexter took the wood from her, led her to a chair, seated her despotically, and made the fire himself. Then, standing before it, he looked all round the room, slowly and markedly and in silence; afterward his eyes came back to her. "So this is where you live--all the home you have!"

"It is but a temporary home. Some day I hope to go back to the island,"

replied Anne.

"When you have, by teaching, made money enough to live upon, I suppose.

It looks like it _here_," he said, with sarcastic emphasis.

"It has not been so cold before," answered Anne. "The house has an empty look, I acknowledge; that is because I supposed it was furnished; but finding it bare, I decided to purchase only necessary articles. What is the use of buying much for a temporary home?"

"Of course. So much better to do without, especially in this weather!"

"I a.s.sure you we have not been uncomfortable until, perhaps, to-night."

"May I ask the amount, Miss Douglas, of your present income?"

"I do not think you ought to ask," said the poverty-stricken young mistress, bravely.

"But I do ask. And you--will answer."

"It has been, although not large, sufficient for our needs," replied Anne, who, in spite of her desire to hide the truth from him, was yet unable to put the statement into the present tense; but she hoped that he would not notice it.

On the contrary, however, Dexter answered instantly: "Has been? Then it is not now?"

"I have recently lost my place in a church choir; but I hope soon to obtain another position."

"And in the mean time you live on--hope? Forgive me if I seem inquisitive and even harsh, Miss Douglas; but you do not realize how all this impresses me. The last time I saw you you were richly dressed, a favorite in a luxurious circle, the reputed heiress of a large fortune.

Little more than a year pa.s.ses, and I meet you in the street at twilight, alone and desolate; I come to your home, and find it cold and empty; I look at you, and note your dress. You can offer me nothing, hardly a fire. It hurts me, Anne--hurts me deeply--to think that all this time I have had every luxury, while _you_ have suffered."

"No, not suffered," she replied. But her voice trembled. This strong a.s.sertive kindness touched her lonely heart keenly.

"Then if you have not suffered as yet--and I am thankful to hear you say it--you will suffer; or rather you might have suffered if I had not met you in time. But never again, Anne--never again. Why, my child, do you not remember that I begged you to be my wife? Shall she who, if she had willed it, would now have been so near and dear to me, be left to encounter toil and privation, while _I_ have abundance? Never, Anne--never!"

He left his place, took her hand, and held it in his warm grasp. There was nothing save friendly earnestness in his eyes as they met her upward look, and seeing this, she felt herself leaning as it were in spirit upon him: she had indeed need of aid. He smiled, and comprehended all without another word.

"I must go on the ten-o'clock train," he said, cheerfully, coming back to daily life again. "And before I go, in some way or another, that good Irish goblin of yours must manufacture a supper for me; from appearances, I should say she had only to wave her broom-stick. When I met you I was on my way to dine with some friends. What their estimation of me is at this moment I am afraid to think; but that does not make me any the less hungry. With your permission, therefore, I will take off this heavy overcoat, and dine here." As he spoke he removed his large s.h.a.ggy overcoat--a handsome fur-lined Canadian garment, suited to his strong figure and the bitter weather, appearing in evening dress, with a little spray of fern in his b.u.t.ton-hole. "Now," he said, "I am going out to plead with the goblin in person."

"I will go," said Anne, laughing, won from her depression by his buoyant manner.

"On the contrary, you will stay; and not only that, but seated precisely where I placed you. I will encounter the goblin alone." He opened the door, went through, and closed it behind him. Soon Anne heard the sound of laughter in the kitchen, not only old Nora's hearty Irish mirth, but Li's shriller voice added to it. For the faithful Li had hastened back, after the old horse was housed, in order to be in readiness if Miss Douglas, owing to her unexpected visitor, required anything. What Dexter said and did in that bare, dimly lighted kitchen that night was never known, save from results. But certainly he inspired both Nora, Li, and the stove. He returned to the parlor, made up the fire with so much skill that it shone out brightly, and then sat down, allowing Anne to do nothing save lean back in the low chair, which he had cushioned for her with his s.h.a.ggy coat. Before long Li came in, first with four lighted candles in new candlesticks, which he disposed about the room according to his taste, and then, later, with table-cloth and plates for the dining-table. The boy's face glowed with glee and exercise; he had already been to the store twice on a run, and returned loaded and breathless, but triumphant. After a while pleasant odors began to steal in from the kitchen, underneath all the inspiring fragrance of coffee.

At last the door opened, and Nora herself hobbled in, bringing a covered dish, and then a second, and then a third, Li excitedly handing them to her from the kitchen entrance. When her ambition was aroused, the old Irishwoman was a good cook. It had been aroused to-night by Dexter's largess, and the result was an appetizing although nondescript repast, half dinner, half high-tea. The room was now brightly illuminated; the fire-light danced on the bare floor. Dexter, standing by the table, tall and commanding, his face full of friendliness, seemed to Anne a personification of kindly aid and strength. She no longer made any objection, but obeyed him smilingly, even as to where she should sit, and what she should eat. His sudden appearance, at the moment of all others when everything seemed to have failed, was comfort too penetrating to be resisted. And why should it be resisted? There was no suggestion in his manner of a return to the old subject; on the contrary, he had himself spoken of it as a thing of the past. He would not repeat his old request--would not wish to repeat it.

After the repast was over, and Nora and Li were joyously feasting in the kitchen, he drew his chair nearer to hers, and said, "Now tell me about yourself, and what your life has been since we parted." For up to this time, after those few strong words in the beginning, he had spoken only on general topics, or at least upon those not closely connected with herself.

Anne, however, merely outlined her present life and position, clearly, but without explanation.

"And Mrs. Heathcote does not know you are here?"

"She does not know, and she must not know. I have your promise, Mr.

Dexter, to reveal nothing."

"You have my promise, and I will keep it. Still, I do not comprehend--"

"It is not possible that you should comprehend. And in addition to keeping my secret, Mr. Dexter, you must tell _me_ nothing of her, or of any of the people who were at Caryl's."

"It is a great gulf fixed?"

"Yes."

He looked at her in silence; she was quiet and thoughtful, her gaze resting on the fire. After a while she said again, "You will remember?"

"Yes. I never had the talent of forgetting."

Soon afterward he went away, with Li as guide. As he took her hand at parting, he said, "Are you coming in to the city to-morrow?"

"Yes; I must see Herr Scheffel."

"Will you let me meet you somewhere?"

After a moment's hesitation, she answered, "I would rather not."

"As you please. But I shall come and see you on Wednesday, then.

Good-night." He went out in the intense country darkness, preceded by Li, who had disposed his comforter about him in such a manner as to look as much as possible like the s.h.a.ggy overcoat, which, in his eyes, was fit for the Czar of all the Russias in his diamond crown.

The next day was even colder. Anne went in to the city, gave one lesson, and then faced the bitter wind on her way down to Herr Scheffel's lodgings. Her heart was not so heavy, in spite of the cold, as it had been the day before, since between that time and this she had heard the cordial voice of a friend.