And then, with a passionate protest, he felt himself writing to her, telling her of his love and calling her back; but swift chilling doubts overtook the impulse. If she had forgotten, slipped away from all this of the past, could any word of his, across the cruel distance, call her back? He had no art with his pen, and what would the poor meagre page be worth beside the living presence of this new, delightful friend?
The bitterness gathered like a flood in his heart, and all its waves and billows went over him. He knew nothing of the beauty of the night nor the way he was taking. He had no sense of outward things, when his name was called suddenly behind him.
“Mort Elwell! Well, upon my word! I thought ’twas you, and then I thought it couldn’t be. When did I ever catch up with you before, on a straight road, with you well in the start?”
The young man turned at the voice, and for a moment stared blankly at the speaker. It was the New Light preacher, his friend of many years, his comrade in the labors of the early summer. The long loose figure bent eagerly toward him, and the sallow face shone in the flooding moonlight. It was impossible, at any pass of melancholy, not to find a moment’s pleasure in so warm a greeting.
“I declare I didn’t hear you coming up,” said the young man. “I was taking my time to it, and wasn’t looking for company.”
“No, I reckon not,” said the preacher, smiling. “It’s toler’ble late, if you happen to know it, and you’re a little out of your own bailiwick, aren’t you?”
“Over in yours?” said Morton, noting for the first time how far he had gone. “Well, it’s rather late for you too, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said the preacher; “but I’ve been over at old man Towner’s. He’s having one of his bad spells, and this time he won’t pull through. I reckon he’ll be done with living here in a few days more.”
“Well, it’s something to be through with,” said the young man. He had spoken more to fill the pause than for anything else, but there was a dreary note in his voice which fell strangely on the ear of the other.
“You, Mort!” he exclaimed, and his eyes searched the face of his companion for a moment curiously. It looked tired and worn. “Just through your work?” he asked. “When did you get in?”