The cloud of thoughts and fancies that filled his mind all drifted toward one point—all floated below a summit upon which stood the only thing he could discern clearly, and that was the figure of Hope Wayne. Just as he thought he could reach her, was he to be torn away?
And who was Mr. Alfred Dinks?
CHAPTER X. — BEGINNING TO SKETCH.
The next morning when Gabriel declared that he was perfectly well and had better return, nobody opposed his departure. Hope Wayne, indeed, ordered the carriage so readily that the poor boy’s heart sank. Yet Hope pitied Gabriel sincerely. She wished he had not been injured, because then there would have been nobody guilty of injuring him; and she was quite willing he should go, because his presence reminded her too forcibly of what she wanted to forget.
The poor boy drove dismally away, thinking what a dreadful thing it is to be young.
After he had gone Hope Wayne sat upon the lawn reading. Suddenly a shadow fell across the page, and looking up she saw Abel Newt standing beside her. He had his cap in one hand and a port-folio in the other. The blood rushed from Hope’s cheek to her heart; then rushed back again. Abel saw it.
Rising from the lawn and bowing gravely, she turned toward the house.
“Miss Wayne,” said Abel, in a voice which was very musical and very low—she stopped—“I hope you have not already convicted and sentenced me.”