Mr. Hearn also smiled approvingly.
"Don't be too sure of your prey," I said, mentally. "If she's not yours at heart—which I doubt more than ever—you shall never have her." But she puzzled me for a day or two. If she were not happy she simulated happiness, and made my poor acting a flimsy pretence in contrast. She and the banker took long rides together, and she was always exceedingly cheerful on her return—a little too much so, I tried to think. She ignored the past as completely as possible, and while her manner was kind to me she had regained her old-time delicate brusqueness, and rarely lost a chance to give me a friendly fillip. Indeed I had never known her to be so brilliant, and her spirits seemed unflagging. Mr. Yocomb was delighted and in his large appetite for fun applauded and joined in every phase of our home gayety. There was too much hilarity for me, and my hope failed steadily.
"Now that her conscience is clear in regard to me—now that I have remained in the country, and am getting well—her spirits have come up with a bound," I reasoned moodily. I began to resume my old tactics of keeping out of the way and of taking long rambles; but I tried to be cheerfulness itself in her presence.
On Wednesday Miss Warren came down to breakfast in a breezy, airy way, and, scarcely speaking to me as I stood in the doorway, she flitted out, and was soon romping with Zillah and Adela. As she returned, flushed and panting, I said, with a smile:
"You are indeed happy. I congratulate you. I believe I've never had the honor of doing that yet."
"But you said that you would be happy also?"
"Am I not?"
"No."
"Well, it doesn't matter since you are."
"Oh, then, I'm no longer kind-hearted. You take Reuben's view, that I'm a heartless monster. He scarcely speaks to me any more. You think I propose to be happy now under all circumstances."