And the time came when, like other young men, he fancied he cared for one of them. The first was Stella Stanley, an actress several years older than Hodge; but Stella had told him it was not true love and that he would get over it.
At first he had taken this rather hard, but he came at last to recognize her wisdom and thank her for her plain speech.
Then there was another, Grace Vernon, who fascinated him for a time.
With Elsie it was different. Having once discovered how much he cared for her, he was unable to brush aside the knowledge, which remained with him constantly, no matter what he did or where he was.
The knowledge that his love for her might be hopeless simply made it all the more intense, for it was not Bart’s nature to relinquish anything on which he had once fairly set his heart.
But Merriwell stood as a barrier between them, and, worse than everything else, Merriwell was his friend.
No wonder Hodge spent sleepless nights! No wonder he spent wretched days! No wonder he lost flesh and became more and more irritable till it became dangerous to cross him in anything!
Still, in his loyal heart he was true to Frank Merriwell, whom he well knew had been his best friend and benefactor in a thousand ways when almost any other fellow would have been a mortal foe.
As of old, Hodge would have yielded up his life for Frank, but his love for Elsie was something stronger and more intense than his love for life, and he could not put that aside. As of old, he had been ready to defend Frank against enemies and traducers; but the sight of Frank’s happy face filled him with gloomy forebodings and intense misery.
Why had Merry looked so happy? Why had he remained away from Yale so long?