“Oh,” he said in a different tone; “I wouldn’t trouble about it. The satisfaction of being acquitted outweighs everything else. Besides, I’ve made a number of rather serious mistakes myself. The search for that spruce, for instance, is supposed to be one.”
“No,” said Evelyn decidedly; “whoever thinks that is wrong. It is a very fine thing you have done. It doesn’t matter in the least that you were unsuccessful.”
“You believe that?”
“Of course. How could I believe anything else?”
The man’s face changed again, and once more she read the signs. Whatever doubts and half-formed resolutions—and she had some idea of them—had been working in his mind were dissipating.
“Well,” he said, “I’ve sacrificed the best of my possessions and destroyed the confidence of folks who, to serve their ends, would have helped me on. Isn’t that a serious thing?”
“No; it’s really a most unimportant one; I”—and the slight pause gave the assertion force—“I really mean it.”
Vane partly raised himself with one arm and there was no doubting the significance of his intent gaze.
“I believe I made another blunder—in England. I should have had more courage and have faced the risk. But you might have turned against me then.”
“I don’t think that’s likely,” said Evelyn, lowering her eyes.