"Once, only once."
"Then your first impression of me was not correct."
With her usual directness, she answered, "No."
The blade snapped. If she had seen but his face she would have supposed that he had cut himself. She hastened to speak: "Some one says that we must change our minds three times before we can be sure."
"But I do not want to wait until you are sure."
"I am sure now."
"No doubt. Tell me now."
How many times his irresistibly boyish manner had forced from her words that she had afterward sorely regretted!
"You will not be pleased. You will dislike me forever after."
"Much you will care for that."
"Shall I not?" smiling at the humor in his eyes. "I think that I do not care as I once did for what people think of me; the question nowadays is what I think of them."
"I will remember," he said urgently, "that I brought it all upon my own head."
How could he guess that in her heart was lodged one unpleasant thought of him? Had she not a little while-such a little while since-cared so much for him that he was grieved for her?
"You must promise not to be cross."
"I promise," taking out his watch. "You may hammer at me for twenty minutes. I have an engagement at half past three."
Did Nan Gerard care as she had cared once? Would the sound of his wheels be to Naughty Nan what they were to her a year ago? A blue and gold edition of Longfellow was laid open on its face on the broad window-sill; she ran her forefinger the length of both covers before she could temper her voice; she did not wish to speak coldly, and yet her heart was very cold towards him.
"I think that you took me by surprise at first; I thought you were the handsomest man in the world-"
"You have changed that opinion?" he said, laughing.
"Yes; I should not think of describing you as handsome now; I should simply say that you were tall, dark, with deep-set, not remarkable, brown eyes, a quiet manner, given to few words-not at all remarkable, you are aware."
"Go on, I am not demolished yet."
"Your spirit I created out of my own fancies; I gave you in those enthusiastic days a heart like a woman"s heart, and a perfect intellect.
You were my Sir Galahad, until I knew that some things you said were not-quite true?"
"Not quite true!" he repeated huskily.
Her eyes as well as her fingers were on the blue covers.
"Not true as I meant truth. Your words did not mean to you what they meant to me-I beg your pardon; do not let me savor of strong-mindedness, but I speak from my heart to your heart. You asked me a question frankly, I have answered it frankly. You said some things to Sue that you ought not to have said and that hurt me; I began to feel that you are not sincere through and through and through. At first I believed wholly in you and then I believed not at all. I was very bitter. And it hurt me so that I would rather have died."
Her tone was as cold and even as if she were reciting a theorem in _Legendre_.
"So you died because you were not true, but you did not go to heaven because you had never lived, and therefore I can not expect to find you again. I did not know before how sad such a burial is."
"Why can not you expect to find me again?"
"To find what? That fancy? If there is any one in the world as good, as true, as strong, gentle and sympathetic as my ideal, I surely hope to find that he is in the world."
"You thought that his name was Ralph Towne, and now you know that his name is not Ralph Towne."
"I do not know what his name may be."
"You think the real Ralph Towne is a stranger not worth knowing?"
"He is a stranger, certainly; whether or not he is worth knowing you know best."
She laughed, but not the suspicion of a smile gleamed in his eyes; she had forgotten that they could be as dark and stern as this.
"Time will show you, Miss Tessa," he said humbly.
"I _am_ sharp. I did not mean to be. But it cuts me so when I think that you can flirt with girls like Sue and Miss Gerard. Do you know of what it reminds me? Once the enemy fell upon the rear of an army and smote all that were feeble, when they were faint and weary; it was an army of women and little children, as well as men, and they did not go forth to war; all they asked was a peaceable pa.s.sage through the land."
The door was pushed softly open; Tessa lifted her eyes to behold the rare vision of shining gray silk, and real lace, a fine face crowned with white braids and lighted by the softest and brownest of brown eyes.
"My dear." All her motherhood was concentrated in the two worn-out words.
"Now you may run away, Ralph."
"I am very glad to," he said. "Good afternoon, Miss Tessa."
Tessa could not trust her voice to speak; raising her eyes she met his fully as he turned at the door to speak to his mother; a long searching look on both sides; neither smiled.
"Tessa, have you been quarrelling with my boy?"
"No, ma"am."
"Has he been quarrelling with you?"
"No, ma"am."
Mrs. Towne seated herself in the chair that Dr. Towne had vacated, arranged her dress and folded her hands in her lap.
"It is Nan Gerard again! What a flirt that girl is! She called yesterday and Ralph chanced to come in while she was here; she gave him such an invitation to invite her to drive with him that he could not-that is, he did not-refuse. I wish that he wouldn"t, sometimes; but he says that he is amused and no one is harmed. I am not so sure of that. I do not understand Miss Gerard. I think that I do not understand girls of this generation. But I understand you."
"I wish that you would teach me to be as wise."
"You will be by and by. Do you know what I would like to ask you to promise?"
"I can not imagine."