The minister’s emotions played leap-frog with his heart, and he stumbled awkwardly on the upper step. He made some stupidly obvious observation concerning the condition of the weather as he followed his hostess into the library. He realized that he was acting strangely for one who had reached the supposedly practical view of life where all sentiment is barred from social intercourse with the fair sex, but he also realized that he was powerless to check the surge of what he now felt within. With kaleidoscopic rapidity there flashed through his mind every occasion when he had been with Miss Fox, from the first meeting beneath the elm-tree in the Captain’s yard to the present time, and he recognized what it was that had sent scurrying his practical views of life. He was in love, not 55 with the beauty of this girl, but with her. That love had come like the opening strains of a grand symphony, subtly and gently disturbing his emotional equilibrium, but with accumulative effect the transitions had come with the passing weeks, till now every interest in his life seemed to be pouring out into the one emotion he felt.
Elizabeth had preceded him into the library, and was standing motionless before the mantel. She became suddenly aware of what was going on within the mind of Mr. McGowan, and a shy embarrassment crept into her eyes.
Simultaneously, an unreasoning determination took possession of the minister. Unconsciously, he began to move in her direction, unmindful of the sound of footfalls on the stair. Only one step remained between Mr. McGowan and Elizabeth when Elder Fox entered the room.
“I trust I’m not intruding–––”
The Elder began nervously to stroke his chops. His breath came heavily, shutting off his words. A hunted look leaped into his eyes 56 as he studied the tense face of the eager young man. Could it be possible that the fears of the Reverend Mr. Means––privately made known to the Elder after the installation service––had foundation in fact? Or had the suggestion of Mr. Means lodged in the Elder’s mind, playing havoc with his imagination?
Mr. McGowan drew off to the far end of the mantel, and began, figuratively, to kick himself. He had often declared that a man in love was the biggest mule on earth, and now here he was, the king of them all, a genuine descendant of Balaam’s mount with all his asinine qualities, but lacking his common mule sense.
“I––I beg your pardon,” he stammered.
“There is no occasion for excuses,” graciously replied the girl. “Father, Mr. McGowan and I were–––” She paused, blushing in confusion. “Really, Mr. McGowan, what were we saying?”
She laughed, and it was so infectious that the men forgot to look serious, and joined with her.
“I should say––er––that you have put the 57 matter in a very diplomatic way,” observed the Elder, apparently once more himself. “No explanations are necessary––er––I assure you. I was once a young man, and have not forgotten that fact. I apologize, Mr. McGowan, if by my attitude I appeared––er––to misjudge you. The trouble was with me, not with you. An odd fancy momentarily got the upper hand of me, and upset me for an instant. Make yourself quite at home, sir.”