His saddle-bags were always full, and, gradually, he collected some comforts about him in the deserted church.
He called, more than once, at “Woodbine Villa,” but Miss Carden was on a visit.
He was in the full career of fortune again, and sanguine of success, before they met. One day, having ascertained from Jael what day she would be at home, he called and was admitted. The room was empty, but Miss Carden soon came into it, accompanied by Jael carrying the bust.
“Ah, Mr. Little,” said she, before he could possibly utter a word, “this is fortunate. There is a party here on Thursday, and I want to show the bust complete, if you don't mind.”
Henry said he would finish it for her. He accordingly set to work, and waited quietly till Jael should leave the room, to have it out with Grace.
She, for her part, seemed to have forgotten his strange manner to her the other day; perhaps she chose to forget it, or overlook it. But Henry observed that Jael was not allowed to quit the room. Whatever Miss Carden wanted she fetched herself, and came back softly, and rather suddenly, as if she had a mind to surprise Jeel and the other too. Female subtlety was clearly at work.
“What do you advise me?” said Henry to Jael, during one of these intervals.
Jael never lifted her eyes from her work, and spoke under her breath, “I think I'd be patient to-day. She must give you a chance to speak some day. Talk to me, when she comes back—about the Cairnhope folk, or anything.”
Henry followed this advice, and Grace, for the first time, found herself a little ignored in the conversation. She was astonished at this and I don't think she quite liked it.
Henry was still going on with warmth and volubility about the Cairnhope folk, their good hearts, and their superstitions, when a visitor was announced.