Was he pleading for him? Sylvie was somewhat puzzled, the most so, perhaps, about herself. How much had she cared for Fred in that old time? If not at all, why did this feeling of shame over a fallen idol continually haunt her? She compared the two men in every thing, and sometimes was vexed to admit that Jack was the nobler.
Their walk had come to an end. They paused at the gate; and a third person striding up Larch Avenue took in the drooping, attentive, and pliant figure, the strong, protecting, powerful personality of the other,—and wondered, as he had more than once before. Were they friends merely? It was not possible for a woman to see so much of Jack Darcy's noble, manly life, and not admire, not love, Dr. Maverick admitted. She showed in many ways that she did care for him. Oddly enough she sheltered herself under his friendly care when other admirers came too near. Could not Darcy see! What a blind, stupid mole he must be in this respect! and the doctor kicked a stone in his path with such force that the two turned in the midst of their good-bys, and waited with smiling faces for him to reach them. Not a shade of annoyance in look or tone at the interruption.
"The queerest lovers," he thought to himself. "If I stood in that man's place"—
Jack went homeward in a curiously speculative mood. He has always fancied for Sylvie some handsome, spirited knight, whose mental intuitions would be as delicate and refined as hers, whose enjoyment as intense. Little as he knew of love, he understood their friendship too thoroughly to be betrayed into any mistake. And he wondered now if he held the key to Sylvie's spiritual enfranchisement of all other men? If she had not loved Fred Lawrence, she had come too dangerously near it ever to free herself entirely from whatever thrall his soul had thrown over hers. She had been disappointed in him, he read that from her tone; but surely, if he brought himself up to a finer and truer standard than any known in that enervating atmosphere of luxury, would she still be implacable? How could he best serve these two people, whom he loved so entirety?
He had many other things to busy himself about beside love and friendship. March came on apace, and the balance-sheet for the six months had to be put in shape. The accounts had been systematically kept: that he had insisted upon in the beginning. Cameron knew every gallon of oil, every pound of wool, every penny spent for repairs and stock; Hurd and Yardley had kept account of every yard of cloth, and what quality, that had passed through their hands; Winston, of travelling, advertising, commissions, &c.; and Jack went over every thing. They had done wonderfully. There was actually a balance of profit to every man, woman, and child. The forms were printed, and distributed to every employee, and there was a great rejoicing time. They engaged the Cooking Club to provide them a supper, and the young people had a merry dance afterward.
"It's hardly safe to halloo until you are out of the woods," said some of the solid old men of Yerbury, who were living snugly on the interest of government-bonds. "Six months is no test at all. Wait until there is a hard pull, and you will not be so jubilant."
"No," answered Jack with a humorous twinkle in his eye: "it's right to have the rejoicing now, when we have fairly earned it. The man who croaks when Providence has smiled upon him, deserves the frown; and he who is unthankful for small successes hardly has a right to great ones. I do not expect all fair sailing, but we will weather the storms together."
"It is rather unfortunate," commented another wise-acre. "I have observed these wonderful beginnings seldom end well. If you should have a run of bad luck now, your men will be dissatisfied, and likely blame you for not keeping up to that mark. I shouldn't have made such a great effort, and then there would have been a chance for improvement."
"A new broom sweeps clean, but it will get worn out," with sundry mysterious nods.
"I declare," said Jack to his friend and comforter, Maverick, "half the town looks at me as if I must have robbed a bank, or falsified accounts, told a lie, or cheated, or maybe murdered some rich old don, and made merry on his money. Why can't people rejoice with you when there is any thing to rejoice about,—an event which does not happen so often in these evil days? I do believe Boyd, and a lot of the others, would be glad to see the scheme fail; but I'll work night and day to make a success of it. It shall not go down," and Jack set his lips together in a way that spoke volumes for his resolve.