Part 45 (2/2)
”I'll leave you to arrange the details of your brilliant campaign,”
said Miss Warren, smiling.
”But thee hasn't scolded Richard,” said Mrs. Yocomb, who was seemingly busy about the room.
”My words would have no weight. He knows he ought to be ashamed of himself,” she answered from the doorway.
”I am, heartily,” I said, looking into her eyes a moment.
”Since he's penitent, Mrs. Yocomb, I don't see as anything more can be done,” she replied, smilingly.
”I don't think much of penitence unless it's followed by reformation,”
said my sensible hostess. ”We'll see how he behaves the next few weeks.”
”Mr. Morton, I hope you will let Mrs. Yocomb see a daily change for the better for a long time to come. She deserves it at your hands,” and there was almost entreaty in the young girl's voice.
”She ought to know better than to ask it,” I thought. My only answer was a heavy frown, and I turned abruptly away from her appealing glance.
”I think Emily Warren acts very queer,” said Adah, after the young lady had gone; ”she's at her piano half the time, and I know from her eyes that she's been crying this afternoon. If ever a girl was engaged to a good, kind man, who would give her everything, she is. I don't see--”
”Adah,” interrupted her mother, ”I hoped thee was overcoming that trait. It's not a pleasing one. If people give us their confidence, very well; if not, we should be blind.”
The girl blushed vividly, and looked deprecatingly at me.
”You meant nothing ill-natured, Miss Adah,” I said, gently; ”it isn't in you. Come, now, and let me tell you and your mother what a good time I'm planning for you in New York,” and we soon made the old dining-room ring with our laughter. Mr. Yocomb, Reuben, and the children soon joined us, and the lovers were left alone on the shadowy porch. From the gracious manner of Mr. Hearn the following morning, I think he rather thanked me for drawing off the embarra.s.sing third parties.
CHAPTER XII
THE HOPE OF A HIDDEN TREASURE
The next day I lured Reuben off on a fis.h.i.+ng excursion to a mountain lake, and so congratulated myself on escaping ordeals to which I found myself wholly unequal. We did not reach the farmhouse till quite late in the evening, and found that Mr. Hearn and Miss Warren were out enjoying a moonlight ride. As on the previous evening, all the family gathered around Reuben and me as we sat down to our late supper, the little girls arranging with delight the sylvan spoil that I had brought them. They were all so genial and kind that I grieved to think that I had but one more evening with them, and I thought of my cheerless quarters in New York with an inward s.h.i.+ver.
Before very long Mr. Hearn entered with Miss Warren, and the banker was in fine spirits.
”The moonlit landscapes were divine,” he said. ”Never have I seen them surpa.s.sed--not even in Europe.”
It was evident that his complacency was not easily disturbed, for I thought that a more sympathetic lover would have noted that his companion was not so enthusiastic as himself. Indeed Miss Warren seemed to bring in with her the cold pale moonlight. Her finely-chiselled oval face looked white and thin as if she were chilled, and I noticed that she s.h.i.+vered as she entered.
”Come,” cried Mr. Yocomb, in his hearty way; ”Emily, thee and Mr. Hearn have had thy fill of moonlight, dew, and such like unsubstantial stuff.
I'm going to give you both a generous slice of cold roast-beef. That's what makes good red blood; and Emily, thee looks as if thee needed a little more. Then I want to see if we cannot provoke thee to one of thy old-time laughs. Seems to me we've missed it a little of late. Thy laugh beats all thy music at the piano.”
”Yes, Emily,” said Mr. Hearn, a little discontentedly, ”I think you are growing rather quiet and _distraite_ of late. When have I heard one of your genuine, mirthful laughs?”
With a sudden wonder my mind took up his question. When had I heard her laugh, whose contagious joyousness was so infectious that I, too, had laughed without knowing why? I now remembered that it was before he came; it was that morning when my memory, more kind than my fate, still refused to reveal the disappointment that now was crus.h.i.+ng my very soul; it was when all in the farmhouse were so glad at my a.s.sured recovery. Reuben had said that she was like a lark that day--that she equalled Dapple in her glad life. I could recall no such day since, though her lover was present, and her happiness a.s.sured. Even he was beginning to note that the light of his countenance did not illumine her face--that she was ”quiet and _distraite_.”
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