“You must regard me merely as your intermediary. We lawyers are accustomed to execute all kinds of commissions.” and he handed her the reins.
“But not always for such an unprofitable client, Mr. Benson,” she answered gravely.
“Sometimes the mere ability to serve carries its own recompense, Mrs. Walsh. The idea of any other would degrade the service,” and he made her a formal little bow. Then he turned away and went slowly up the steps.
He had not seen Virginia since the day he had driven out to the farm to consult Stephen about the renewal of the note. Virginia herself answered his knock, but her beautiful face was impassive and calm, and her glance strayed on beyond him to the woman in the cart. He felt a sudden sense of exultation in her presence, and the blood mounted warmly to his cheek. He half extended his hand, but while he hesitated, Virginia drew back a step, it might have been unconsciously, and his hand fell at his side.
“Will you grant me a moment in private, Mrs. Landray?” he said deferentially, for even when he came to have the feeling for her that was neither hate nor love, but some part of each, he still paid her this tacit homage; his manner never altered.
Virginia looked at him in surprise, but said: “Certainly, will you come into the library, Mr. Benson?” The conscious severity of her manner toward him did not relax.
This call was quite incomprehensible to her. She acknowledged, however, that to gratify a reasonable curiosity on this point she must sacrifice the opportunity to show her just indignation at the part she still believed he had played in sending her husband West. She led the way down the hall and into the library, where she silently motioned him to a chair. He seated himself and carefully placed his hat and gloves on the floor at his feet. While he was thus engaged her calm eyes were fixed upon him, their look grave and inquiring; and he experienced somewhat the same feeling he had known some five years before when he faced his first judge and jury; there were the same dry lips and parched throat, the same wonder in his heart if anything would come of it when he opened his lips to speak. He knew that his task would not be lightened by any word of hers.
“It's rather a difficult matter that brings me here,” he began haltingly. “I should not have ventured on this errand had it not been that the need was very urgent. You will remember that when your husband went West he took with him a young man by the name of Walsh?”
It was an unlucky start, for Virginia's face hardened perceptibly. He was immediately conscious of this, even while he did not divine the reason for it. He bit his lip, angry with himself that he had not first made his appeal to her pity. Then his pride came to the rescue; this was not the first hostile judge he had confronted.
“Walsh was only recently married when he joined the company; he was a stranger here, but, I believe, a man of excellent antecedents; however, the really serious part of it is, that his wife is quite alone and entirely friendless.”