"I wish I might believe that," Hamlen said with deep feeling; "it would mean everything to me."
"You must believe it. When you come to Boston, and find out how other collectors regard your work, you'll think my praise is tame. Until then, believe what I tell you, and take out of it the gratification which belongs to you.—I want you to go back to Boston with me, Hamlen, and pay me a visit. Will you do it?"
The change in subject was so abrupt that it took his host entirely unawares.
"Do you mean that, Huntington?" he asked.
"Of course I mean it. In fact, I insist upon it. I want to take you home to exhibit to my jealous friends as my own discovery.—Then it's all agreed."
"I couldn't leave here," Hamlen said soberly.
"I'll wait for you," Huntington replied. "I'm really in no hurry at all."
Hamlen laughed, and it was the first time Huntington had seen his reserve break down. He could not help contrasting it with the burst of emotion which had preceded his departure only the day before.
"You are a hard man to resist," Hamlen said lightly; "but that is something for the future. Let me have it to look forward to."
"Well, I haven't left Bermuda yet, and I don't want to go without you.—Now, Miss Merry, I must get you safely back to the hotel. Do you feel equal to another walk?"