"I should not wish to intrude—" the girl began but Hamlen held up a deprecating hand, and the expression on his face refuted the apparent lack of courtesy.
"I am sure you won't misunderstand, Miss Thatcher, being, as Mr. Huntington says, a congenial soul. It is I who am apologizing. To have any one show interest in what I do is a new experience, and I hesitate for fear I may be indelicate. And yet I want to show you what I've done!"
"Of course I understand," Merry replied cordially; "I'm proud to be among the first to see your work."
"Before we go indoors, may I not take you around the grounds?" he turned to Huntington. "Perhaps you are in the mood for it to-day?"
"By all means," his guest responded. "It will give us exactly the right atmosphere for what is to follow."
Huntington rejoiced to see Hamlen's attitude. For an hour they wandered from one point to another, Merry in a state of ecstasy from the superb beauty of it all, Hamlen supremely happy in this sympathetic companionship of which he knew so little, and Huntington contentedly watching the life-drama enacting before his eyes. On the stage such a sudden change from tragedy to comedy would have been considered crude, for who could write lines of such delicacy as to portray the yearning of a human soul, or what actors are there so great that they could mimic the birth of hope? "God is the master-dramatist, after all," Huntington murmured to himself as he studied the changes which made the tortured derelict of a few days before into the contained and self-respecting host.
They returned to the house, and Hamlen took them to his press and bindery. Huntington purposely kept in the background, asking a question now and then, adding a word only where it was necessary, and giving his host the opportunity of explaining the finer points of the work to the responsive and comprehending mind of the girl. Little by little he could see the real Hamlen emerge from his manufactured self under the influences around him.
But his interest was not wholly centered in Hamlen. Until to-day Huntington had observed Merry only in her relation to others; now he felt a personal pride in the way she carried herself, in her quick understanding, her sympathetic responsiveness. He felt unconsciously for these brief moments a pleasurable sense of possession which added to his enjoyment.
"Now take us to your library," he said to Hamlen at length. "You told me that you had there some examples of the old master-printers at which you had scarcely looked. I want to see them; perhaps they may show us the influences which unconsciously affected your work."
"Most of them belonged to my father," Hamlen explained, as he opened the door for his guests to pass through into the larger room.