Part 10 (2/2)
”That may depend on how apt and interesting a scholar you prove. I'm a teacher, you know, and teaching some of my scholars is drudgery, and others a pleasure.”
”So I'm put on my good behavior at once.”
”You ought to be on your good behavior anyway--this is Sunday.”
”Yes, and June. If a man is not good now he'll never be. And yet such people as Mrs. Yocomb--nor will I except present company--make me aware that I am not good--far from it.”
”I am glad Mrs. Yocomb made just that impression on you.”
”Why?”
”Because it proves you a better man than your words suggest, and, what is of more consequence, a receptive man. I should have little hope for any one who came from a quiet talk with Mrs. Yocomb in a complacent mood or merely disposed to indulge in a few plat.i.tudes on the sweetness and quaintness of her character, and some sentimentalities in regard to Friends. If the depths of one's nature were not stirred, then I would believe that there were no depths. She is doing me much good, and giving me just the help I needed.”
”I can honestly say that she uttered one sentence that did find soundings in such shallow depths as exist in my nature, and I ought to be a better man for it hereafter.”
”She may have found you dreadfully bad, Mr. Morton: but I saw from her face that she did not find you shallow. If she had, you would not have touched her so deeply.”
”I touched her?”
”Yes. Women understand each other. Something you said--but do not think I'm seeking to learn what it was--moved her sympathies.”
”Oh, she's kind and sympathetic toward every poor mortal.”
”Very true; but she's intensely womanly; and a woman is incapable of a benevolence and sympathy that are measured out by the yard--so much to each one, according to the dictates of judgment. You were so fortunate as to move Mrs. Yocomb somewhat as she touched your feelings; and you have cause to be glad; for she can be a friend that will make life richer.”
”I think I can now recall what excited her sympathies, and may tell you some time, that is, if you do not send me away.”
”I send you away?”
”Yes, I told you that you were the one obstacle to my remaining.”
She looked at me as if perplexed and a little hurt. I did not reply at once, for her countenance was so mobile, so obedient to her thought and feeling, that I watched its varied expressions with an interest that constantly deepened. In contrast to Adah Yocomb's her face was usually pale; and yet it had not the sickly pallor of ill-health, but the clear, transparent complexion that is between the brunette and the blonde. Her eyes were full, and the impression of largeness, when she looked directly at you, was increased by a peculiar outward curve of their long lashes.
Whether her eyes could be called blue I could not yet decide, and they seemed to darken and grow a little cold as she now looked at me; but she merely said, quietly:
”I do not understand you.”
”This was your chosen resting-place for the summer, was it not, Miss Warren?”
”Yes.”
”Well, then, what right have I, an entire stranger, to come blundering along like a June beetle and disturb your rest? You did not look forward to a.s.sociations with night editors and like disreputable people when you chose this sheltered nook of the world, and nestled under Mrs.
Yocomb's wing. You have the prior right here.”
As I spoke, her face so changed that it reminded me of the morning of this eventful day when I first looked out upon its brightness, and as I ceased her laugh rang out heartily.
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