"Miss Warren," I said, almost sternly, "it's little that I ask of you or that you can give. I may not have deceived you, but I have the others. Mrs. Yocomb knows; but she is as merciful as my own mother would have been. I'm not ashamed of my love—I'm proud of it; but it's too sacred a thing, and—well, if you can't understand me I can't explain. All I ask is that you seem indifferent to my course beyond ordinary friendliness. There! God bless you for your patient kindness; I will not trespass on it longer. You have the best and kindest heart of any woman in the world. Why don't you exult a little over your conquest? It's complete enough to satisfy the most insatiable coquette. Don't look so sad. I'll be your merry-hearted friend yet before I'm eighty."
But my faint attempt at lightness was a speedy failure, for my strong passion broke out irresistibly.
"O God!" I exclaimed, "how beautiful you are to me! When shall I forget the look in your kind, true eyes? But I'm disgracing myself again. I've no right to speak to you. I wish I could never see you again till my heart had become stone and my will like steel;" and I turned and walked swiftly away until, from sheer exhaustion, I threw myself under a tree and buried my face in my hands, for I hated the warm, sunny light, when my life was so cheerless and dark.
I lay almost as if I were dead for hours, and the evening was growing dusky when I arose and wearily returned to the farmhouse. They were all on the veranda except Miss Warren, who was at her piano again. Mrs. Yocomb met me with much solicitude.
"Reuben was just starting out to look for thee," she said.
"I took a longer ramble than I intended," I replied, with a laugh. "I think I lost myself a little. I don't deserve any supper, and only want a cup of tea." Miss Warren played very softly for a moment, and I knew she was listening to my lame excuses.
"It doesn't matter what thee wants; I know what thee needs. Thee isn't out of my hands altogether yet; come right into the dining-room."
"I should think you would be slow to revolt against such a benign government," remarked Mr. Hearn most graciously, and the thought occurred to me that he was not displeased to have me out of the way so long.
"Yes, indeed," chimed in Mr. Yocomb; "we're always all the better for minding mother. Thee'll find that out, Richard, after thee's been here a few weeks longer."
"Mr. Yocomb, you're loyalty itself. If women ever get their rights, our paper will nominate Mrs. Yocomb for President."