Had she been able to read his thoughts, she would have realized that the short detour into Ellen Webster’s territory had brought Martin to himself, and that he was already deploring with inward scorn the weakness that had led him to do the thing he had pledged his word never to do. He could not even shunt off the blame for his act and say, as did his illustrious ancestor: “The woman tempted me and I did eat.” No, he had open-eyed stalked voluntarily into temptation,—willingly, gladly, triumphantly. He had sinned against his conscience, his traditions, his forbears, and behold, angry as he was with himself for yielding to it, the sin was sweet.
CHAPTER XII
THE TEST
Martin had guided his horse round the triangle of sweet-williams and, still torn by conflicting emotions of ecstasy and self-reproach, was proceeding down the driveway when a cry of distress reached his ear:
“Martin—Mr. Howe!”
He turned to see Lucy Webster beckoning frantically to him from the door.
“Come back, please,” she cried. “Hurry!”
That she was excited was evident. Indeed she must have been quite out of her mind to have called him Martin in that shameless fashion. The fact that the name had slipped so spontaneously from her lips and that she hastened to correct her mistake caused the man to speculate with delight as to whether she was wont to think of him by this familiar cognomen. This thought, however, was of minor importance, the flash of an instant. What 190 chiefly disturbed Martin was the girl’s agitation.