"Well, I know thee comes," replied his wife. "Don't tire Richard out; he isn't strong yet."
"Richard," said Mr. Yocomb, as we were driving up a long hill, "I want to congratulate thee on thy course toward Emily Warren. Thee's a strong-minded, sensible man. I saw that thee was greatly taken with her at first, and no wonder. Besides, I couldn't help hearing what thee said when out of thy mind. Mother and I kept the children away then, and Doctor Bates had the wink from me to be discreet; but thee's been a sensible man since thee got up, and put the whole thing away from thee very bravely."
"Mr. Yocomb, I won't play the hypocrite with you. I love her better than my own soul."
"Thee does?" he said, in strong surprise.
"Yes, and I ought to have gone away long ago, I fear. How could I see her as she appeared this morning, and not almost worship her?"
The old gentleman gave a long, low whistle. "I guess mother meant me when she said men were blind."
I was silent, not daring, of course, to say that I hoped she meant me, but what I had heard and seen that morning had done much to confirm my hope.
"Well," said the old gentleman, "I can scarcely blame thee, since she is what she is, and I can't help saying, too, that I think thee would make her happier than that man can, with all his money. I don't think he appreciates her. She will be only a part of his great possessions."
"Well, Mr. Yocomb, I've but these requests to make. Keep this to yourself, and don't interpose any obstacles to my going next Monday. Don't worry about me. I'll keep up; and a man who will have to work as I must won't have time to mope. I won't play the weak fool, for I'd rather have your respect and Mrs. Yocomb's than all Mr. Hearn's millions; and Miss Warren's respect is absolutely essential to me."
"Then thee thinks that mother and—and Emily know?"