The young man stood watching her in an awed silence. For a long time she sat motionless, with her face hidden, and he thought she must be weeping.
At length he said, almost shyly: “You’ll let me come back, then? You’ll help me work this thing out?”
She rose calmly and held out her hand. “I’ll help you,” she declared.
“I’ll come to-morrow, then. Can we get to work early?”
“As early as you please.”
“At eight o’clock, then,” he said briskly. “You’ll have the papers ready?”
“I’ll have everything ready.” She added with a half-playful hesitancy: “And the fire shall be lit for you.”
He went out with his bright nod. She walked to the window and watched his buoyant figure hastening down the elm-shaded street. When she turned back into the empty room she looked as though youth had touched her on the lips.
THE RECOVERY
To the visiting stranger Hillbridge’s first question was, “Have you seen Keniston’s things?” Keniston took precedence of the colonial State House, the Gilbert Stuart Washington and the Ethnological Museum; nay, he ran neck and neck with the President of the University, a prehistoric relic who had known Emerson, and who was still sent about the country in cotton-wool to open educational institutions with a toothless oration on Brook Farm.