There was just the suspicion of tears in Roderick’s eyes—a lump in his throat which rendered it impossible for him to reply. Yes; all bitterness, all sense of humiliation, were now gone. He too was thinking mighty kindly of sweet and gentle Stella Rain.
“Remember,” continued the Major quietly, “you told me how she warned you that some other day another girl, the real girl, would come along. I guess that has happened now.”
Roderick started; there was a protesting flush upon his cheek.
“Even though you may not yet fully realize it,” quietly added the Major.
“What do you mean?” faltered Roderick; the flush of offended dignity had now turned into the blush of confusion.
The Major smiled benignantly.
“Oh, my young friend, remember again that I read men’s minds and hearts just a little. There must be some new influence in your life.”
“How do you know that—how can you say that?”
Buell Hampton laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder and smiled.
“Because otherwise you would be still up among the hills alone, young man. Your fight in the wilderness would have lasted for forty days—not for a single night. The fever of love does not die down so suddenly without an antidote. The resignation you have shown while we burned that letter is not merely a negative condition of mind. There is something positive as well.”