"Vesty!" Captain Leezur whispered, but a whisper that could not be dark and secret to save itself; I heard: "why don't ye speak to major? Ye ain't spoke tew words tew him the hull endurin' evenin'."
She darted a dark flash at him too.
"Vesty! Vesty!" said the beloved old man, in that whisper that so thoroughly deceived him—"I know 't I set ye up to this bean-pole business. But it won't dew for both on ye to be bean-poles. One or the other on ye 's got to kile. Neow, Vesty, ye know 't major 's got some misfortin's in his looks 't makes him beound to be preoud; ye wouldn't have him other ways. Ye see, Vesty, he don't know 't——"
She stopped him with a haughty look.
"An' in course," said he, "I don't know, neither. But it dews make me feel dreadful t' think I've started sech a rank bean-pole farm as this, when I've all'as told ye, my little gal, 't we'd ort'er use moderation"—Captain Leezur wiped his blessed shining eyes—"moderation in all things, even in passnips—I have said—an' neow I change it to bean-poles."
Vesty's mouth quivered; her eyes looked fit to enfold the whole sinful world for his sake.
"Good-night, major!" she said coldly; but she had spoken. And, beautiful and tall, she passed out of sight.
As Captain Leezur turned to me, in spite of the dark duplicity of his conduct toward me, my heart gushed out to him unawares. I grasped his hand silently.