“How long have you loved Christ?” asked the minister, when Tessa was “examined” for admission to the church.
“Ever since I have known Him,” was the timid reply.
And Ralph Towne, in these miserable days, for he was miserable, as miserable in his fashion as she was in hers, was blaming her and excusing himself. What had he ever said to her? Was every one of a man’s words to be counted? There was Sue Greyson, why didn’t she turn sentimental about him? True, he had said one day when they were talking about friendship—what had he said that day? Was she remembering that? If she had studied his words—but of course, she had forgotten! What had possessed him to say such things? But how could he look at her and not feel impelled to say something warm? It could not be his fault; it must be hers, for leading him on and for remembering every trivial word. And of that she was equally sure, for how could he do any man or any woman wrong, this sincere and honorable Christian gentleman?
In her imagination there was no one in a book or out of a book like Ralph Towne. Gus Hammerton was a scholar and a gentleman, but she had known him all her life; Felix Harrison was gracious and good, but he was not like Ralph Towne. Ralph Towne was not her ideal, he was something infinitely better than she could think; how beautiful it was to find some one nobler and grander than her ideal! Far away in some wonderful, unknown region he had grown up and had been made ready for her, and now he had come to meet her; bewildered and grateful, she had loved him and believed in him—almost as if that unknown region were heaven.
It was her wildest dream come true; that is, it had come true, until lately. Some strange thing was happening; it was happening and almost breaking her heart.
“Tessa, you look horrid nowadays,” exclaimed Dinah, one afternoon, as Tessa came up on the piazza, returning from her usual walk. “You are white, and purple, and all colors, and you never sing about the house or talk to me or to any body. You actually ran away while Mrs. Bird was over here yesterday, and you don’t even go to see Miss Jewett! She asked me yesterday if you had gone away. When Laura was talking to you yesterday, you looked as if you did not hear one word she said.”
“I was listening.”
“And you used to have such fun talking to Gus; I believe that you went up-stairs while he was here last night.”
“I had a headache; I excused myself.”
“You always go down the road. Why don’t you go through Dunellen?”