There was a suspicious moisture in Owen’s eyes and his voice visibly trembled when he again asked,
“And no censure meets us here?”
“Why should there be?”
But the man of the world could not understand. His friend knew that he had left a wife, that his love for this girl was an illicit one; yet here he stood clasping his hand in a manner that seemed to indicate to the fortune-tossed Owen that Norman was proud to do so. So he drew him aside and asked the meaning of it all.
Nothing loath, Norman devoted himself for the next half hour to answering his eager queries, seeking to initiate him into the sweet love-laden theories of the new doctrine to which he himself only a few months ago had been a perfect stranger. Leaning against a pillar Owen stood half hidden in an alcove, lost in amaze and wonder; his eyes following every movement of the girl he so madly worshiped.
But still another was watching and waiting for a solution of this mystery. Milton’s sad gray eyes saw the happiness of his friend; had seen him catch the fainting figure in his arms; had seen him press his face against hers and kiss the white lips. He could only guess that in some unlooked-for manner he had found the woman for whom he had so long been vainly seeking, and in the excitement which followed he for a time was overlooked and forgotten. But soon the merry peals of laughter, sweet music and soft strains of song again filled the room, and then, at the urgent request of Wilbur, Margaret read some strong dramatic scenes from various plays, holding her listeners spellbound with the purity of her voice, the strength and clearness of the rendition and the depth of feeling which she exhibited. So, as the evening passed, Milton Nesbit became more and more puzzled as to what it was that made this circle so charming—so delightfully entertaining that all his perplexities were for the time forgotten and that caused his sorrows to be dispelled as mist in the sunshine, and his heart to grow warm once more.
As he was one of the handsomest of the finely formed men in the room it did not take long for feminine eyes to detect that fact. Many were the admiring glances bestowed upon him. But there was something in the sad face which forbade intruding. Only Alice—airy, fairy Alice, was not backward. She again sought his side, showing him books, etchings, engravings, and albums filled with selections of art gems. Her sweet, airy manner, the soft tender voice, acted like a charm upon his overwrought nerves, and he soon found himself thoroughly enjoying her.
Lawrence, Wilbur, the young physician and the Wallace sisters had formed a little circle and were discussing economics. Imelda was devoting herself to her brother; making the evening pleasant for him; answering his questions as to the meaning of Cora’s strange demeanor in connection with this handsome and refined looking stranger. Frank had already learned much, was learning every day, but all was not quite clear to him yet as to what it was that made these pure-minded women and men so different from others he had met and known in his reckless and checkered life. She told him that it was a lover of their sweet and lovable Cora, who, like himself, had once been reckless and wayward. Margaret, her mother and Osmond formed another group to which still another was attached. Homer had found a seat at Mrs. Leland’s feet, resting his head against her knee, her hand gently toying with the clustering locks. The boy said scarcely a word, only listened. Mrs. Leland had also very little to say, only now and then a casual word. The brother and sister, however, who until a few days ago had been as strangers, had much to tell, and were opening their hearts, one to the other. Margaret was delighted with the gems she found stored away in this boy’s mind.
While in this quieter mood they were surprised by a sudden burst of melody from the piano, evoked by the touch of a master hand. Nesbit having confessed to Alice that he was musically inclined, that bewitching morsel of humanity had so importuned him that, unable to resist, he soon found his heart swelling with emotion as he evoked the rich strains. This burst scattered the groups, and once more they formed into one whole circle. Nesbit’s music was followed by singing and then by Margaret’s selections, then in what seemed a very short space of time, Cora and Owen were again of their number, and finally, when the good nights were spoken it seemed there never had been quite such a feeling of content lodged in the innermost recesses of every heart then and there present.
The following day brought back the two newcomers at quite an early hour. They did not now protest against coming. They were there every day and evening, until the hour of Margaret’s departure drew nigh. How brief the time allowed them had seemed. Wilbur drank in the glory of the blue wells, kissing the dewy lips again and again. Mrs. Leland folded her child close. It seemed almost harder to let her go now than it had been the first time. Osmond’s eyes grew dim.