CHAPTER XXIX
A QUESTION OF MOTIVES
William introduced his cousin with an air of easy indifference, apologised for calling at so late an hour, but excused himself on the ground that he wanted to see Ralph particularly on a little matter of business. Sam was welcomed graciously and heartily, for William's sake. William had been almost the best friend they had ever known. In the darkest days of their life he had come to them almost a stranger, had revealed the kindness of his heart in numberless little ways, had kept himself in the background with a delicacy and sensitiveness worthy of all praise, and had never once presumed on the kindness he had shown them.
For a moment or two William saw only Ruth, and he thought she had never looked more charming and winsome. The warmth of her welcome he attributed entirely to a sense of gratitude on her part, and he was very grateful that she counted him worthy to be her friend. When he saw his cousin glance at her with admiring eyes, a pang of jealousy shot through him such as he had never experienced before. He had scarcely troubled till now that his youth had slipped away from him; but when he looked at Sam's smooth, handsome face; his wealth of hair, untouched by Time; his tall, vigorous frame—he could not help wishing that he were ten years younger, and not a shopkeeper.
Sam and Ruth quickly got into conversation, and then Ralph led William into a little parlour which he used as an office.
"I haven't the remotest idea what I am going to do," Ralph said, in answer to a question from William, "though I know well enough what I would do if I only had money."
"Yes?" William questioned, raising his eyes slowly.
"I'd buy the freehold of Hillside Farm."
"It isn't for sale, is it?" William questioned, in a tone of surprise.