"Let's see," said he. "What have we for this afternoon? These unanswered--Why, Miss Strong, these must be attended to at once!

Please take some letters for me."

He had dropped into his rut. For an hour or more Miss Strong's fingers flew as she noted down his dictation, and at the end of that time the letters were answered, and the communications which had so perplexed Amidon were filed away among other things done. The office force breathed freely once more, with the freedom of returning efficiency in management.

The man who had brought this relief to his employees now looked at his watch, rose, went out, and walking briskly down the main street, nodding to an acquaintance here, and speaking to another there, made his way out among the homes of the town.

Here his brisk walk gradually slowed down to a saunter. He was strolling toward the house with the white columns. Suddenly coming into view, as she turned a corner and walked on before him, appeared a young lady. Not much ability in the detective line would be necessary for the recognition of her by any of this girl's acquaintances, within any ordinary range of vision. If there were no certain revelation in the short, smartly-attired, quick-moving figure, there could be no mistake concerning the vividly brilliant hair, which glowed under the saucily-turned fabric of felt, feathers and velvet which crowned it, like a brilliant cloud display over a red sunset. Mr. Bra.s.sfield seemed to recognize her, for he quickened his pace so as to overtake her before she could come to a gateway, into which her glance and movements indicated that she was about to turn. He walked up by her side, and manifested to her his presence by falling into step and lightly pinching her shapely elbow.

"How-de-do, Daisy-daise!" said he, with the utmost a.s.surance. "When did you bring the town the blessing of your presence?"

The lady gave a little scream.

"'Gene Bra.s.sfield!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed; and then, with a little quivering emphasis, "You! How you frightened me!"

"I know, I know!" replied Bra.s.sfield, peeping under the big hat into her eyes. "Almost scared to death, as is quite proper. But, to my question: how long, how long hast been here?"

"Oh, several days--before you came back. Aunty wanted me to be here when her sister, my Aunt Hunter from Hazelhurst--that's up in Wisconsin--visits her. There's to be a reception. Of course you'll be there, and----"

"Of course," responded Bra.s.sfield. "Did I ever absent myself from any social affair in which your charming aunt, Mrs. Pumphrey, is interested? Nay, nay; but don't dodge. Why this throw-down? Why didn't you let me know----"

"'Gene," said the girl, "you can't deceive me. I'm ashamed that I wrote the note, and your telling a fib about getting it won't make it any better. But it was wicked of you not to answer. I only wanted you to come to me and--and talk it all over, and say good-by for ever. It wasn't necessary to----"

"I have never received any note," said Bra.s.sfield, totally unconscious of the missive which Amidon had promptly waste-basketed. "What was it?"

"Really? Didn't you?" she queried, pouting her red lips most kissably.

"A little note, unsigned, with some--some verses? No? Then I'll forgive you--for that. But--go on, 'Gene, up to the house yonder--go on!"

"You oughtn't to be permitted to run at large," said he, "with that hat, and those lips. I wonder if any one's looking?"

"You mustn't talk that way," she said, "nor look at me like that! Go on, or I shall cry--or something quite as bad! Or, maybe you'll come in? Billy c.o.x is in there waiting for me, and watching, I dare say."

"Some other time," replied Bra.s.sfield, "I shall be delighted. But Miss Waldron has just been driven out into the street, and if she comes this way, I must exhibit myself to her, and maybe she'll pick me up. She's turning this way---- Billy, eh? Happy Billy; nice boy, too, since he stopped drinking. By-by, Daisy-daise!"

Elizabeth came driving down the road, and walking up it came Aaron, sable messenger of the anxious Madame le Claire, who had enlisted Aaron in her service to bring Bra.s.sfield again within her magic realm. He reached the object of his search before the carriage pa.s.sed, and delivered a note.

"Tell Madame le Claire," said Bra.s.sfield, whose ideas with reference to that person must have been very hazy, "that such an invitation is a command. I'll be with her immediately."

He stood smiling, hat in hand, at the crossing, as Elizabeth drove by.

She halted, and looked questioningly at him. This smile, this confident aspect--all these were so different from his recent bearing that she was surprised, and not more than half pleased. The element of a.s.surance in his att.i.tude toward the other girl was not seen in his treatment of Elizabeth, to whom it would have been offensive. Perhaps the cunning of the consciously abnormal intellect was the cause of this; or it may have been some emanation of dignity from the woman herself acting on a mind in a state chronically hypnotic. Be the cause what it may, to Elizabeth, with all his confidence and ardor, he was most deferential and correct in manners, and, to her, these manners had undergone no change. Confidently, as if no shadow had ever come over their relations, he put his foot upon the step of the carriage.

"Won't you give me a lift," said he, "and put me down at my home?"

She made room for him with scarcely more than a word. "To the Bellevale House," said she to the coachman.

Bra.s.sfield looked at her, so grave, so _distinguee_, so coolly sweet, and forgot apparently that there was any one else in the world. He slipped his hand under the lap-robe, and gave hers a gentle pressure.

"Dearest!" he half-whispered, caring very little whether he was overheard or not.

She returned the caress by the slightest possible compression, and put her hand outside the robe. Whether the one action was incited by a desire to avoid complete unresponsiveness, and from a sense of duty only, the other left undecided.

The circ.u.mscribed mind of Bra.s.sfield which, with the intensity of observation rendered necessary and inevitable by its narrow field, had noted, as he stepped out in the street, the intangible shifting of relations in his surroundings incident to the mere pa.s.sage of time in the few days of his obliteration, now felt, as a blind man feels the mountain in his approach, or as the steersman in a Newfoundland fog apprehends the nearing of the iceberg, some subtle alteration in the att.i.tude toward him of the young woman by his side. Instantly he was on guard and keenly alert.

"This is a case," said he, "of the prophet coming to the mountain. I was on my way to you, and lo, I met you coming my way--let me hope coming to me--after seeing me!"

"The mountain is at liberty to draw his own conclusions," said Miss Waldron. "One may be reasonably charged with the design of meeting every one in Bellevale when one goes out."

"The mountain, then," said he, "must be content with its place as a portion of the landscape--happy if it pleases the prophet's eye."

"The prophet did not foresee--but let's have mercy on the poor hunted figure. I was about to say that your occupation--or preoccupation--as I drove down the street brought to my attention a new phase of our scenery--a brilliant one. Is this the girl I used to know as Daisy Scarlett?"

"It must be," said Bra.s.sfield, "and it surprises me that you speak of knowing her as of the past. How does it happen?"

"The exile of school," she answered, "and the fact that her visits to Bellevale have not been during such vacations as the girls would let me spend with Auntie. It's my loss--I have lived too tame a life."

"I, too; let's take the trail for sensations."

"Let me begin with a mild one," said Elizabeth. "Estelle writes me that she has been away from New York for the past month. So you are not a convicted criminal, at least."

Bra.s.sfield scanned her face to get the revelation of every turn of expression, as an aid to this mysterious reference to Estelle as related to his visit to New York.

"That's good," said he promptly, and with marvelous luck, "even a verdict of 'not proven' is a glad surprise on returning from New York.

By the way, Bessie dear, won't you drive over by that gang of men? The foreman seems to want to speak to me."

Entirely oblivious of this dexterous turn, Miss Waldron complied, and drew up to the place where Barney Conlon's gang still labored in the trench.

"What is it, Conlon?" asked Bra.s.sfield.

"I was wonderin', sir," said Conlon, hat in hand, "if I could see you at your office in a half-hour or so. I'd not ask it, sir, if it wasn't important. It's about the business you was speakin' to me about this marnin'."

"Ah, yes: the pipe-line," said Bra.s.sfield. "Be at the office in half an hour, Conlon. Drive to the top of the hill, William. So goes our search for new thrills--road runs slap into pipe-lines and business, dearie."

"Well, we mustn't find fault with it for that," said she. "I've wanted to say to you--since the other evening--that I can see widening vistas showing oceans of good things I never reckoned on in the least. And when I get unreasonable and generally brutal and abusive, I am not really and fundamentally so any more than I am now!"

"I know, dearest; I know, Bessie. And, now, don't give yourself a minute's uneasiness about anything that took place. I apologize for everything out of the proper which I said----"

"Which you _said_?"

"Yes--yes! You were quite right, and I never loved you more than then--except now. Let's not allude to it again, but just go on as before."

"Not quite as before," said she. "I'll not ask you why you kept back so many of your--your _my_--qualities from me--_must_ you get down here at this old counting-room?--and I'll only ask you two questions--cramp the carriage a little more, William! One is, where can I get a copy of the first edition of Child's _Scottish Ballads_--wasn't that the name of the 'Dark Tower' book?"

"You may search me, Bessie," said he, standing by the curb in front of his office. "Don't think I ever heard of it."

"Oh, Eugene!" cried Elizabeth, "don't take that att.i.tude again! But bring it up to me when you come to begin our readings in _Pippa Pa.s.ses_!"

"Ah! Now you are joking! Good-by, Bess. Unless I'm run over between now and eight-thirty, you may look for me. By-by!"

Not quite so fortunate, this last five minutes of conversation. But all unaware of that fact, Bra.s.sfield went back into the private office, and found Conlon awaiting him. Bra.s.sfield opened a drawer and drew out a roll of drawings and typewritten specifications.