"It is," returned Mark cordially. "But the man—his personality, his talk—is the most interesting of all. Truly fate has been very good to me since I came to the East. In my first week I met two of the best men I've ever known, David Morpeth and Felix Worsley. To be sure, they are very unlike—as far as the poles asunder in almost everything. The one seemed to me a wise, patient saint, while the Collector is the most impatient of men. I fear, too, he would say I was defaming the name if I was to dub him 'a saint,' yet there is about him the beauty of real dominant goodness. For instance, people say he is proud and all that—well, I find him full of the most winning humility."
"Why, I've always pictured Mr. Worsley as a most terrifying person from the stray remarks I've heard about him. Surely you idealise him, Mark, and see in him the reflection of your own good self. I think that's how Charlie would interpret your feelings."
"Ah, I see I shan't win you over to my hero till you see him."
"With your eyes?" said Hester, with an arch smile.
"No, with your own, if I mistake not! I only wish I could bring about a meeting. But I confess my hero is somewhat incorrigible. Nothing will induce him to face a fashionable dinner-party, and that reminds me, Hester, I must tell you how sorry I was not to be with you last night and not to bring the Collector—but he simply wouldn't hear of going to a dinner-party."
"Yes, Alfred was disappointed. He said he was once introduced to Mr. Worsley, and seemed to set his heart on having him as his guest," said Hester simply.
Mark felt a sharp twinge of self-reproach, for had not the truth been that the Collector had rejected the invitation stormily, saying he "declined to dine with Zynool's partner"? As Mark recalled it he feared that some of the borrowed stigma might also attach itself to this sweet friend in Mr. Worsley's mind—until they met, at least. When that hour struck, he felt confident that all would be well. As he glanced at Hester, he perceived that there was a subtle change in his old comrade. Her beauty had strengthened and deepened. There was a new air of tender grace in all her movements; but she was paler and thinner, the plump, girlish contour had vanished. The features, more delicately pencilled than heretofore, seemed written over with a bit of life-history not free from fret and jar, even blurred by patient tears. How could it be otherwise, he asked himself, with this high-souled girl exposed to the daily companionship of a nature so vain, so shallow, and he feared, so false, as he was reluctantly discovering Alfred Rayner to be? He recalled with fresh anxiety his shifty air when he had met him at Puranapore during his mysterious visit to the unprincipled Zynool. But happy chance had thrown Hester and him together on this Day of Glad Tidings. He must do all in his power to bring some pure, healthful pleasure into those few days on which he would be near her.
"By the way," he said, as he rose to take a cup of tea from Hester's hand, "I mustn't forget that one of the chief objects of my call to-day is to ask you to ride with me one morning. Some of the roads here are capital."
"Oh, that would be delightful—just like old times," said Hester brightening. "I haven't ridden since I came here. Alfred doesn't like riding, though he is so devoted to driving. Even when he was at the Rectory after our engagement, which you know was very short, he wouldn't go out with Charlie and me. Charlie thought he was really timid, and told me not to urge him. He won't mind my riding—at least I don't think so," she added, a shadow crossing her face not unnoticed by her visitor. "But he'll be here presently, and we'll ask him. You'll stay to dinner and see him, won't you?"
"With pleasure. I'm quite free this evening and we'll arrange this one ride anyhow. I've seen a perfect horse for you at Wallers'. I shall bring it round to-morrow morning. What do you say to going to St. Thomas's Mount? It's a place I've a fancy to explore. Have you been there?"