"It would seem so, indeed."
I can't imagine what there was in that innocent sentence to cause affront, but instantly the girl in the hammock swung her feet to the ground, arose, and picked up her bonnet and basket.
"I don't think you are at all nice!" she said. "Go on and love your little cabin minx if you want to! She'll be sadly wiser when your love is over and you have gone back where you came from. I know you men—all alike!... If you want to see uncle you'll find him in the library at this hour."
Then out she switched with never so much as a "Good-day," leaving me staring amazedly at the clustering viney mass which swayed behind her vanished form. I had known many kinds of women: petulant, spoiled, mean; gracious, charming, good. I knew the majority of them were not amenable to logic, and would sometimes take offense at a smile or a wrong inflection. But when Beryl Drane flung this low insinuation in my face, I was nettled. It was utterly without foundation or reason. It bore out strikingly the opinion I had previously formed of her, and as I sat and turned the matter over in my mind, I knew presently that I was pitying her. For there is no sadder sight on the world's broad breast than a woman with a spotted soul. This poor child's perceptions were all awry, her affections wrenched and twisted, and in that moment I almost cursed the fate which would permit such a sacrilege. My resentment was gone, or was directed against the nonunderstandable forces, powers—call them what you will—which so often, in their workings, flung the spotless lily under the filthy snout of a hog, and dashed the white soul of a girl into a pit of smut and slime! Give me the reasons, ye gray-bearded savants! You are children fumbling in the dark. You do not know.
I got up and passed without the leafy curtain. Miss Drane had disappeared. I walked to the porch, found the front door open, and entered the hall without knocking. I judged the library to be on the right, and at that door I tapped. The old priest's voice bade me "Come!" I went in, and when he saw me cross the threshold, Father John leaped up with a nervous agility which was incongruous when associated with his many years, and hastened forward.
"Ah-h-h! Ze pleasure! W'ere have you bene, m'sieu?"
He smiled cordially, and led me to an easy chair by the table, holding my hand until I was fairly seated.
"Roaming the woods, principally," I replied, easily, noting the extremely comfortable furnishings of the apartment. "I have been here a half-hour, I should say. I found Miss Drane cutting roses, and stopped for a chat with her. She seems perfectly well?"
Father John made a grimace, and spread his hands.
"Zat chil'! I love 'er m'sieu, but she try me. She plague me wiz 'er pranks, zen she come wiz 'er arms aroun' my neck—so—an' fix eversing."