I doubt if anything could have awakened me from my reverie so suddenly and so effectually as the measured slow accent which broke upon my ear at this juncture.
"How do you do Amey?"
Simple enough: a mere conventional greeting if you will, but I felt it vibrate through my whole system. I looked up and saw Mr. Dalton standing before me. The way was narrow, and he had moved aside into the deep snow to let me pass. Involuntarily, I stood and looked up at him. I felt more kindly toward him than I had ever done before, I knew not why. In some vague uncertain way he had been associated with my recent thoughts, not asserting himself as any distinct feature in connection with my cogitation, but underlying it with a merely insinuated influence that made his presence felt in a secret, undetermined sort of way. I had been wondering about him and questioning his motives within myself as I plodded through the sprinkled streets and now, he was standing before me, a real personage, the substance of a dreamy memory of him which I had been dwelling upon since my departure from the Merivales'.
When we had stopped and saluted one another an awkward silence ensued. I felt as if he had read my secret in my tell-tale countenance, but his face wore that passive look it always wore and his voice was calm and commonplace as usual as he asked.
"Are you going home now?"
"Yes" I answered, "I have been visiting Alice Merivale. I had luncheon with her and a little talk."
"I will go back with you if you like," said he turning around to follow me.
I assented of course, and we hurried on to where the path was wider that we might be companionable and walk side by side.
"You had a little talk you say? I fling discretion to the winter wind, and ask, what about?"
"It is a wonder you don't say whom about" I returned with some emphasis.