"No, sir; it's not by a man's actions that he may be accurately appraised, but the motives that lie behind those actions; and those motives are exceedingly difficult to define. The incentive that impels us to a given act may be all right, the intention to perform it the best in the world, and then the act itself may be all wrong. Who 's to blame then? Who more than any other can set himself up to censure our conduct, or lay down a code of ethics and morals for his neighbor to follow? I am assuming that you have heard a good deal about my uncle, and I know the reports concerning him are anything but flattering."
This speech fell in so harmoniously with my own train of reasoning, that I gave the young man's words the closest attention. Assuming that he was in fact guilty, as I had already tentatively theorized, then would not his present utterances appear very like a plea in vindication of his deed?—or, at least, as an apology? If he were guilty, he was supplying me the support of a sound argument.
His analysis of motives, at any rate, made me exceedingly regardful of every shifting light and shade of his really remarkable narrative. I remained keenly alert not to miss a phase of it, but carefully to ponder and weigh every one.
However, that narrative must not be retarded.
"Before I came here last night," he took it up once more, "I thought I had imagined every possible combination of emotions with which my uncle would receive my brazen offer; but his amazement when he heard me was as nothing to mine at the way in which he took it.
"First of all, in a gruff, glum sort of way, the old gentleman seemed really glad to see me; but he was in a hurry to warn me that I had better get my errand over quickly, as he was contemplating catching a nine-thirty train for Duluth—for what purpose he did n't say. As the evening wore on, however, and after I had once or twice hinted that I could wait till a more opportune time to make known my business, he impatiently commanded me to proceed; whereupon I naturally concluded that he had, since my coming, given over the projected trip.
"That fellow Burke was in the hall when I entered; and while there was nothing in his manner that I could have picked out as hostile, still I felt vaguely that he resented my intrusion. But why should he? Blamed if I know. As my uncle and I entered the library, Burke had the nerve to butt in with a reference to some papers and a reminder that the Duluth train left at nine-thirty. Maybe you think the old gentleman did n't turn him down cold—didn't bother Burke in the least, though, or interrupt the cool, unwavering inspection that he continued to bestow upon me. The fellow was fairly burning up with curiosity to find out what my business was.
"Well, after Mr. Page and I got in here, he put it to me bluntly: Did I want money? If so, how much and what for? Now was n't that an encouraging beginning in view of what I was after? Nevertheless I was resolved to do or die; to be heard to the end, or else kicked out of the house forthwith. That last is what I had coming to me, all right—it's what I was looking for.
"I began by saying that I simply wanted him to listen to me for a few minutes—to hear me till I got through—and then he would know well enough what I was after. I could see that my manner, if not my words, had aroused his curiosity; thus emboldened, I plunged right in. I told him of my love for Belle."
The two of them then and there verified this all-absorbing fact by another interchange of ardent glances. Heaven knows, neither of them was in the least self-conscious or at all shy over the matter. Miss Belle seemed to glory in it; to accept his unspoken professions of devotion with a joyous sort of triumph which crowned her haughty beauty with the shining mien of a conqueror.