“Yes, a paradise from which I am shut out. Have you any young men here, Mrs. Weston, unmarried men, or are they against your rules?”
“No. Unmarried men are not against our rules,” said Olive archly. “We had one here lately, but we haven’t now.”
“Why, what did you do with him?” asked Mr. Perseus, in some surprise.
“I married him,” said Olive dimpling and blushing.
“Lucky beggar!” remarked her visitor, turning again to his dinner.
Mr. Perseus stayed some time, but refused Olive’s invitation to wait to see her husband, saying as an excuse that he had a long way to ride home. Olive wanted to know where he lived, but he laughingly put her off. He would not tell her, lest she should discover his real name, and then much of the romance of his life would be destroyed.
“You don’t know what this is to me, and how when I am leading my lonely life, I recall every word and look and again go through these meetings, Mrs. Weston. I suppose it seems silly to you, but remember, human companionship is man’s most precious inheritance, and those who have but little of it prize what they have at perhaps an extravagant figure. Did you ever hear of Silvio Pellico?” he asked abruptly.
“No,” replied Olive.
“Well, he was a prisoner entirely shut off from human companionship, and he at last made friends with a spider, and at length the spider was crushed by the turnkey’s foot, and Silvio wept tears of anguish. I am like a prisoner out here on this desolate prairie.”
“And am I like the horrible spider, then?” said Olive brightly.