He was still engaged on the task when he started to call on her. Half-way to the house he arrived at the conclusion that he was looking too cheerful. His face took on an expression of deep seriousness, only to give way the next moment to one of the blankest amazement. In front of him, and approaching with faltering steps, was Mr. Clark, and leaning trustfully on his arm the comfortable figure of Mrs. Bowman. Her brow was unruffled and her lips smiling.
“Beautiful morning,” she said, pleasantly, as they met.
“Lovely!” murmured the wondering Mr. Tucker, trying, but in vain, to catch the eye of Mr. Clark.
“I have been paying an early visit,” said the widow, still smiling. “I surprised you, didn't I, Nathaniel?”
“You did,” said Mr. Clark, in an unearthly voice.
“We got talking about last night,” continued the widow, “and Nathaniel started pleading with me to give him another chance. I suppose that I am softhearted, but he was so miserable—You were never so miserable in your life before, were you, Nathaniel?”
“Never,” said Mr. Clark, in the same strange voice.
“He was so wretched that at last I gave way,” said Mrs. Bowman, with a simper. “Poor fellow, it was such a shock to him that he hasn't got back his cheerfulness yet.”
Mr. Tucker said, “Indeed!”
“He'll be all right soon,” said Mrs. Bowman, in confidential tones. “We are on the way to put our banns up, and once that is done he will feel safe. You are not really afraid of losing me again, are you, Nathaniel?”