"Then you are not like the immortal Peter Bell?" I said, speaking my thought almost involuntarily.
"By no means," he said, smiling, "since all the joys of my childhood seem to live again for me when I see a primrose."
We got on marvellously well together on that first evening. Aunt and I found him such an interesting companion that we almost forgot how recent our acquaintance was. He talked a good deal about his life in India, and it was evident that he had relinquished his work there with great reluctance. He had met with sundry adventures there, too, of which he spoke in the simplest fashion, but which showed me he was a man of fine courage and a good sportsman. I thought that Jack would like him better when he came to know more about him.
He made very light of the health failure which had brought him home. It was the result of the warm, moist climate of the place of his sojourn. He had got the better of the feverish attacks which had prostrated him. What he lacked now was nervous strength, and that he believed the fresh air and repose of the country would soon restore.
When he said this, Aunt Patty explained that I too was suffering from nervous exhaustion, and, rather to my vexation, told the story of my disappointment. But as I met his look of perfect comprehension and sympathy, I felt that I did not mind in the least.
"Ah, Miss Nan, don't I know what that meant for you!" he said. It was strange how from the first he fell into the way of addressing me as "Miss Nan," just as if he had known me all my life. And stranger still it was that, though I was rather wont to stand on my dignity, I felt no inclination to resent his thus dispensing with ceremony.
"It did seem hard at first," I murmured, "but now I don't mind."
"I know," he said. "It went sorely against the grain with me when I found that I must resign my post at the college, and go back to England. My students were very dear to me, and I hoped that I was impressing some of them for good. But there was no alternative—if I would go on living. So you and I have the same duty before us at present—to lay up a fresh store of energy."
"I have found it an easy duty so far," I said cheerfully.
"Indeed, in this fair home, with the spring unfolding about us, and all the lovely summer to come, it promises to be a delightful one," was his ready response.