Was Ellen in love with him? This was the question which forced itself upon John's mind, in spite of his modesty. Or, was there something else which caused all this excitement?
XXII.
IF YOU LOVE ME, JOHN
The question with which John Stevens troubled himself is one which any modest man dislikes to put to himself. If love comes in answer to the solicitation of love, the question is rarely asked; but if love has come from an unexpected source, the result is an effort to reciprocate that affection, or else a vague annoyance, a feeling of being injured in some inexplicable way, which will intrude upon the consciousness.
The afternoon after his arrival John spent with a hungry, passionate longing at his heart for a welcoming word from the one woman he had loved so faithfully and so devotedly for years. As Diantha passed out of the house on her way toward the river, he wondered why it was his heart should cling so tenaciously to her, in spite of her coldness and her neglect.
Why could not he love sweet Ellen best instead of the indifferent Dian, she who sometimes wounded her best and dearest, if it happened to meet her mind to do so? No use to ask; however, he knew that if he could not win her love, eternity would hold a regret for him, for this woman had become necessary to his happiness.
He sat under the cottonwood tree in the front yard as these reflections passed through his mind, and pulling his long beard with some impatience, he looked up in time to catch the laughing eyes of Ellen Tyler as she passed one of the front windows.
"Why, John, you look as if you saw a whole cavalcade approaching our house to drive us into the mountains. What on earth is the matter?"
"Nothing much, Ellen; come out and let's take a walk."
"All right, if you will go with me up into town, for Sister Winthrop wants some things from the Tithing Office."