Joe at first refused, and declared that he did not want to rest. But under his companion's gentle yet firm urging he sank upon the grass and buried his face in his hands.
Leaving him there, Douglas hastened to the house. In a few minutes he returned, carrying his violin. Joe never looked up as he approached, but remained, huddled upon the ground, the very epitome of abject despair.
At once Douglas began to play strong, violent music, in keeping with Joe's feelings. Each note suggested a tempest, and as the playing continued, the old man lifted his head and Douglas noted the gleam in his eyes and the angry expression upon his face. At that moment he was ready for action, for revenge dire and swift.
But gradually the music changed. It became soft and low. It appealed to the better and higher nature. It was like the revivifying breath of spring after winter's sternness, and the sun's radiant smile following the raging tempest. It affected Joe. The light in his eyes changed, and his face softened. His body relaxed. Then the player knew that the victory was won. Gently he drifted off to the old, familiar hymns of "Nearer My God to Thee," and "Abide with Me."
As the last note died upon the air, Joe rose slowly from the ground. He said nothing, but reaching out he clasped Douglas by the hand. Then with head erect and a new light in his eyes, he turned and made his way slowly toward the road.
CHAPTER XIX
WARMER THAN HE EXPECTED
Joe had gone but a short distance up the road when Ben Stubbles met him in his car, and enveloped him in a cloud of dust. Ben was alone and he scowled as the old man stepped aside to let him pass. Douglas, who was watching, felt thankful that Joe was ignorant of the driver's part in Jean's ruin.
Seeing Douglas standing under the tree, Ben drew up his car and asked him what he was doing there.
"Attending to my own affairs," was the cool reply.