“I am at your service, my dear sir,” said a deep voice from the veranda. And opening the door, the professor walked into the room.
CHAPTER XIX
He looked old and tired and sad; it was plain that he expected attack and equally plain that he would meet it with fanatic serenity. And yet, the magnificent blunderer presented so fine an aspect of the tortured Olympian, he confronted us with so vast a dignity—the driven snow of his hair tousled upon his head and shoulders, like a storm in the higher altitudes—that he regained, in my eyes, something of his mountain grandeur before he had spoken a word in defence. But sympathy is not what one should be entertaining for an antagonist; therefore I said cavalierly:
“This is Mr. Ward, Professor Keredec. He is Mrs. Harman’s cousin and close friend.”
“I had divined it.” The professor made a French bow, and George responded with as slight a salutation as it has been my lot to see.
“We were speaking of your reasons,” I continued, “for bringing Mr. Harman to this place. Frankly, we were questioning your motive.”
“My motives? I have wished to restore to two young people the paradise which they had lost”.
Ward uttered an exclamation none the less violent because it was half-suppressed, while, for my part, I laughed outright; and as Keredec turned his eyes questioningly upon me, I said: