Again she paused to glance at the young American whose handsome, vigorous head stood out in bold relief against the crimson cushions of his chair. "When one is unhappy it is difficult to—to be just to others. I have talked it all over with my—with Mr. Everett since our marriage, and he says you were a brick—a brick; yes, I am quite sure that is what he called you; but it really means something very nice and—square. You see words in America frequently mean something far different from what one has always supposed; and I am learning as fast as I can. But my husband says that I did not appreciate how awfully kind it was of you to come to America just to look for me. You did come for that; didn't you?"
"I had," said Mr. Towle gravely, "no other motive in going to America."
"Well, that being the case," Jane went on rapidly, "it wasn't a bit nice of me to send you away without a word of explanation; now was it? But this is the real, true reason; I don't mind telling it now." She paused to smile happily to herself—"I caught a glimpse of Mr. Everett coming up the street, and—and I thought it would be very awkward for you—for him—to meet just then. I hope you are not too horribly vexed with me?" She smiled brilliantly upon him, with an obvious desire to be at peace with all her little world.
"Hum—ah," began Mr. Towle, eyeing the wistful little face which was inclined toward his with a sternness born of his determination not to make a fool of himself. "I—I beg to assure you, Mrs. Everett, that I—er—quite understand, and I am not disposed to——"
Jane's eyes drooped; so did the corners of her mouth. "I never seem able to say the right thing at the right time," she said mournfully. "I see that I have offended you again, and I only meant to tell you—to apologize for——"
"Jane," said Mr. Towle, in the deep, caressing tone which Jane had heard only twice before from his lips, "I forgive you for—everything, and I hope you will believe me when I tell you that I hope for nothing better in life than to hear that all is going well with you, and that you are—happy."
"Thank you," said Jane softly. Her eyes beamed kindly upon him. "You are very good," she said; "I think I shall be even happier because you have said this."
And the Hon. Wipplinger Towle in his own peculiarly patient, middle-aged fashion blessed her in his heart of hearts for that little word "even." It was, in a way, one of those crumbs which sometimes fall from a rich man's table, and as such he thankfully appropriated it as his own meager share of the loaf which an unfriendly Fate had denied him.
THE END