Ethel laughed softly. “You are making me ashamed of myself, Paul. I am going to try harder than ever to do my duty. I know what it is, but I am simply stunned. My uncle and aunt write me that the young man Jennie was to have married has gone to drinking again. He simply could not stand his great grief. That is another thing that seems so unfair and unreasonable. For Jennie's sake he gave up the habit, and promised her and her parents never to drink again. Now he is going to ruin, when if Jennie had lived—” Ethel's voice broke, and she did not finish what she had started to say.
“But can't you see what your cousin may have escaped?” Paul reasoned. “A young man who is weak enough to allow a sorrow—even a sorrow like that—to throw him into dissipation would not be likely to make a worthy husband. After marriage some other disappointment might have upset him, and a woman married to such a man would have led a miserable life.”
“Oh, that's true,” Ethel admitted, “and Jennie never could have borne it; she was so frail and sensitive.”
“There's surely a good reason for all that happens,” Paul said. “But we can't be expected to understand what is withheld from us.”
They were both silent for a while. They had reached the highest point of the road, and the lower mountains and hills fell away on all sides like the green billows of a mighty ocean. Above it all shone the sun. The blue, cloud-flecked sky arched over them like a vast dome. The breeze which fanned their faces was refreshing and laden with the fragrance of wild flowers. Paul called her attention to the mill at the foot of the mountain to which they were going, and started the horse down the incline.
“I am to have a visitor Sunday,” Ethel remarked, her glance on the horse. “My friend, Mr. Peterson, is coming up to spend the day.”
“Oh!” Paul unconsciously ejaculated, and then the color rose to his face. “I have not met him. I saw him at the bank one day when I went to Atlanta with your uncle, but we were not introduced. He was very busy looking over Mr. Hoag's papers.”
“They are great friends,” Ethel said, somewhat awkwardly, her cheeks slightly tinted. “I don't feel as if I can entertain him very well in my present state of mind, but I knew my uncle would be offended if I wrote him not to come.”
“It will be good for you, no doubt,” Paul said, lamely, and for no obvious reason he tightened the reins and shook them over the animal's back. “He will bring you news from the city and it may divert your thoughts.”
“Perhaps so. My mother thought he ought to come; he has been most kind to us. He is one of my best friends.”