"Amy has promised to visit me soon," she said, hastily.

"It would seem that I am not down on your list of friends," he began, gloomily.

"Why, Mr. Clifford, I'm sure papa and I would be glad to have you call whenever you are in town."

"I fear I shall have to disappoint Mr. Hargrove," he said, a little satirically. "I'm going West the last of this month, and may be absent much of the winter. I expect to look about in that section for some opening in business."

"Indeed," she replied, in tones which were meant to convey but little interest, yet which had a slight tremor in spite of her efforts. "It will be a very great change for you."

"Perhaps you think that const.i.tutes its chief charm."

"Mr. Clifford," she said, "what chance have I had to think about it at all? You have never mentioned the matter." (Amy had, however, and Gertrude had not only thought about it, but dreamed of it, as if she had been informed that on a certain date the world would end.) "Is it not a rather sudden plan?" she asked, a little hesitatingly.

"Yes, it is. My father has a large tract of land in the West, and it's time it was looked after. Isn't it natural that I should think of doing something in life? I fear there is an impression in your mind that I entertain few thoughts beyond having a good time."

"To have a good time in life," she said, smiling at him, "is a very serious matter, worthy of any one's attention. It would seem that few accomplish it."

"And I greatly fear that I shall share in the ill-success of the majority."

"You are much mistaken. A man has no end of resources. You will soon be enjoying the excitement of travel and enterprise in the West."

"And you the excitement of society and conquest in the city. Conquests, however, must be almost wearisome to you, Miss Hargrove, you make them so easily."

"You overrate my power. I certainly should soon weary of conquests were I making them. Women are different from men in this respect. Where in history do we read of a man who was satiated with conquest? Well, here we are at home. Won't you come in? Papa will be glad to see you."

"Are you going to the city to-morrow?"

"Yes."

"May I call on you this evening?"

"Certainly. Bring Amy with you, won't you?"

"Will you forgive me if I come alone?"

"I'll try to. I suppose Amy will be tired from nutting."

He did not reply, but lifted his hat gravely, mounted his horse, and galloped away as if he were an aid bearing a message that might avert a battle.

Miss Hargrove hastened to her room, and took off her hat with trembling hands. Burt's pale, resolute face told her that the crisis in her life had come. And yet she did not fully understand him. If he meant to speak, why had he not done so? why had he not asked permission to consult her father?

Mr. Hargrove, from his library window, saw Burt's formal parting, and concluded that his fears or hopes--he scarcely knew which were uppermost, so deep was his love for his daughter, and so painful would it be to see her unhappy--were not to be fulfilled. By a great effort Gertrude appeared not very _distraite_ at dinner, nor did she mention Burt, except in a casual manner, in reply to a question from her mother, but her father thought he detected a strong and suppressed excitement.

She excused herself early from the table, and said she must finish packing for her departure.

CHAPTER LIV

A GENTLE EXORCIST

Burt's black horse was again white before he approached his home. In the distance he saw Amy returning, the children running on before, Alf whooping like a small Indian to some playmate who was answering further away. The gorgeous sunset lighted up the still more brilliant foliage, and made the scene a fairyland. But Burt had then no more eye for nature than a man would have who had staked his all on the next throw of the dice. Amy was alone, and now was his chance to intercept her before she reached the house. Imagine her surprise as she saw him make his horse leap the intervening fences, and come galloping toward her.

"Burt," she cried, as he, in a moment or two, reined up near her, "you will break your neck!"

"It wouldn't matter much," he said, grimly. "I fear a worse fate than that."

"What do you mean?" she asked, in alarm. "What has happened?"

He threw the bridle over a stake in the fence, and the horse was glad to rest, with drooping head. Then he came and stood beside her, his face flushed, and his mouth twitching with excitement and strong feeling. For a moment he could not speak.

"Burt," she said, "what is the matter? What do you fear?"

"I fear your scorn, Amy," he began, impetuously; "I fear I shall lose your respect forever. But I can't go on any longer detesting myself and feeling that you and Miss Hargrove despise me. I may seem to you and her a fickle fool, a man of straw, but you shall both know the truth. I shan't go away a coward. I can at least be honest, and then you may think what you please of my weakness and vacillation. You cannot think worse things than I think myself, but you must not imagine that I am a cold-blooded, deliberate trifler, for that has never been true. I know you don't care for me, and never did."

"Indeed, Burt, you are mistaken. I do care for you immensely," said Amy, eagerly clasping his arm with both her hands.

"Amy, Amy," said Burt, in a low, desperate tone, "think how few short months have pa.s.sed since I told you I loved you, and protested I would wait till I was gray. You have seen me giving my thoughts to another, and in your mind you expect to see me carried away by a half-dozen more. You are mistaken, but it will take a long time to prove it."

"No, Burt, I understand you better than you think. Gertrude has inspired in you a very different feeling from the one you had for me. I think you are loving now with a man's love, and won't get over it very soon, if you ever do. You have seen, you must have felt, that my love for you was only that of a sister, and of course you soon began to feel toward me in the same way. I don't believe I would have married you had you waited an age.

Don't fret, I'm not going to break my heart about you."

"I should think not, nor will any one else. Oh, Amy, I so despised myself that I have been half-desperate."

"Despised yourself because you love a girl like Gertrude Hargrove! I never knew a man to do a more natural and sensible thing, whether she gave you encouragement or not. If I were a man I would make love to her, rest a.s.sured, and she would have to refuse me more than once to be rid of me."

Burt took a long breath of immense relief. "You are heavenly kind," he said. "Are you sure you won't despise me? I could not bear that. It seems to me that I have done such an awfully mean thing in making love to you in my own home, and then in changing."

Her laugh rang out merrily. "Fate has been too strong for you, and I think--I mean--I hope, it has been kind. Bless you, Burt, I could never get up any such feeling as sways you. I should always be disappointing, and you would have found out, sooner or later, that your best chance would be to discover some one more responsive. Since you have been so frank, I'll be so too. I was scarcely more ready for your words last spring than Johnnie, but I was simple enough to think that in half a dozen years or so we might be married if all thought it was best, and my pride was a little hurt when I saw what--what--well, Gertrude's influence over you. But I've grown much older the last few months, and know now that my thoughts were those of a child. My feeling for you is simply that of a sister, and I don't believe it would ever have changed. Who knows? I might eventually have an acute attack also, and then I should be in a worse predicament than yours."

"But you will be my loving sister as long as you live, Amy? You will believe that I have a little manhood if given a chance to show it?"

"I believe it now, Burt, and I can make you a hundredfold better sister than wife. The idea! It seems but the other day I was playing with dolls.

Here, now, cheer up. You have judged yourself too harshly;" and she looked at him so smilingly and affectionately that he took her in his arms and kissed her again and again, exclaiming, "You can count on one brother to the last drop of his blood. Oh, Amy, whatever happens now, I won't lose courage. Miss Hargrove will have to say no a dozen times before she is through with me."

At this moment Webb, from the top of a tall ladder in the orchard, happened to glance that way, and saw the embrace. He instantly descended, threw down his basket of apples, and with it all hope. Burt had won Amy at last. The coolness between them had been but a misunderstanding, which apparently had been banished most decidedly. He mechanically took down his ladder and placed it on the ground, then went to his room to prepare for supper.

"Burt," cried Amy, when they were half-way home, "you have forgotten your horse."

"If he were Pegasus, I should have forgotten him to-day. Won't you wait for me?"

"Oh, yes, I'll do anything for you."

"Will you?" he said, eagerly. "Will you tell me if you think Miss Hargrove--"

"No, I won't tell you anything. The idea! After she has refused you half a dozen times, I may, out of pity, intercede a little. Go get your horse, smooth your brow, and be sensible, or you'll have Webb and Leonard poking fun at you. Suppose they have seen you galloping over fences and ditches like one possessed."