LITMIR.BIZ

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have seen you, and I have no right to make remarks about your character. But I cannot help thinking—that——”

      She hesitated, not as though from any embarrassment, but as if she could not find the words she wanted. George made no attempt to help her, though he knew perfectly well what she wanted to say. He waited coldly to see whether she could complete her sentence.

      “You ought not to think such things,” she said suddenly, “and if you do, you ought not to show it.”

      “In other words, you wish me to reform either my character or my manners, or both? Do you know that old Tom Craik ruined my father? Do you know that after he had done that, he let my father’s reputation suffer, though my father was as honest as the daylight, and he himself was the thief? That sounds very dramatic and theatrical, does it not? It is all very true nevertheless. And yet, you expect me to be such a clever actor as not to show my satisfaction at your news. All I can say, Miss Fearing, is that you expect a great deal of human nature, and that I am very sorry to be the particular individual who is fated to disappoint your expectations.”

      “Of course you feel strongly about it—I did not know all you have just told me, or I would not have spoken. I wish every one could forgive—it is so right to forgive.”

      “Yes—undoubtedly,” assented George. “Begin by forgiving me, please, and then tell me what is the matter with the worthy Mr. Craik.”

      “Mrs. Trimm seems to think it is nervous prostration—what everybody has nowadays.”

      “Is she very much cut up?” George asked with an air of concern.

      “She writes that she does not leave him.”

      “Nor will—until——” George stopped short.

      “What were you going to say?”

      “I was going to make a remark about the human will in general and about the wills of dying men in particular. It was very ill-natured, and in direct contradiction to your orders.”

      “I suppose she will have all his fortune in any case,” observed Constance, repressing a smile, as though she felt that it would not suit the tone she had taken before.

      “Since you make so worldly an inquiry, I presume we may take it for granted that the mantle of Mr. Craik’s filthy lucre will descend upon the unwilling shoulders of Mrs. Sherrington Trimm. To be plain, Totty will get the dollars. Well—I wish her joy. She is not acquainted with poverty, as it is, nor was destitution ever her familiar friend.”

      “Why do you affect that biblical sort of language?”

      “It seems to me more forcible than swearing. Besides, you would not let me swear, I am sure, even if I wanted to.”

      “Certainly not——”

      “Very well, then you must forgive the imperfections of my style in consideration of my not doing very much worse. I think I will go and ask how Mr. Craik is doing to-day. Would not that show a proper spirit of charity and forgiveness?”

      “I hope you will do nothing of the sort!” exclaimed Constance hastily.

      “Would it not be a proof that I had profited by your instruction?”

      “I think it would be very hypocritical, and not at all nice.”

      “Do you? It seems to me that it would only look civil——”

      “From what you told me, civility can hardly be expected from you in this case.”

      “I am not obliged to tell the servant at the door the motive of my curiosity when I inquire after the health of a dying relation. That would be asking too much.”

      “You can inquire just as well at Mrs. Trimm’s——”

      “Mr. Craik’s house is on my way home from here—Totty’s is not on the direct line.”

      “I hope you—how absurd of me, though! It is no business of mine.”

      George could not say anything in reply to this statement, but an expression of amusement came over his face, which did not escape his companion. Constance laughed a little nervously.

      “You are obliged to admit that it is none of my business, you see,” she said.

      “I am in the position of a man who cannot assent without being rude, nor differ without impugning the known truth.”

      “That was very well done, Mr. Wood,” said Constance. “I have nothing more to say.”

      “To me? Then I herewith most humbly take my leave.” George rose from his seat.

      “I did not mean that!” exclaimed the young girl with a smile. “Do not go——”

      “It is growing late, and Mr. Craik may be gathered to his fathers before I can ring at his door and ask how he is.”

      “Oh, please do not talk any more about that poor man!”

      “If I stay here I shall. May I come again some day, Miss Fearing? You bear me no malice for being afflicted with so much original sin?”

      “Its originality almost makes it pardonable. Come whenever you please. We shall always be glad to see you, and I hope that my sister will be here the next time.”

      George vaguely hoped that she would not as he bowed and left the room. He had enjoyed the visit far more than Constance had, for whereas his conversation had somewhat disquieted her sensitive feeling of fitness, hers had afforded him a series of novel and delightful sensations. He was conscious of a new interest, of a new train of thought, and especially of an odd and inexplicable sense of physical comfort that seemed to proceed from the region of the heart, as though his body had been cheered, his blood warmed, and his circulation stimulated by the assimilation of many good things. As he walked up the Avenue, he did not ask himself whether he had produced a good or a bad impression upon Miss Fearing, nor whether he had talked well or ill, still less whether the young girl had liked him, though it is probable that if he had put any of these questions to his inner consciousness that complacent witness would, in his present mood, have answered all his inquiries in the way most satisfactory to his vanity. For some reason or other he was not curious to know what his inner consciousness thought of the matter. For the moment, sensation was enough, and he was surprised to discover that sensation could be so agreeable. He knew that he was holding his head higher than usual, that his glance was more confident than it was wont to be, and his step more elastic, but he did not connect any of these phenomena in a direct way with his visit in Washington Square. Perhaps there was a vague notion afloat in his brain to the effect that if he once allowed the connection he should be forced into calling himself a fool, and that it was consequently far wiser to enjoy the state in which he found himself than to inquire too closely into its immediate or remote causes.

      It is also probable that if George Wood’s condition of general satisfaction on that evening had been more clearly dependent upon his recollection of the young lady he had just left, he would have felt an impulse to please her by doing as she wished; in other words, he would have gone home or would have passed by Totty’s house to make inquiries, instead of executing his purpose of ringing at Mr. Craik’s door. But there was something contradictory in his nature, which drove him to do the very things which most men would have left undone; and moreover there was a grain of grim humour in the idea of asking in person after Tom Craik’s health, which made the plan irresistibly attractive. He imagined his own expression when he should tell his father what he had done, and he knew the old gentleman well enough to guess that the satire of the proceeding would inwardly please him in spite of himself, though he would certainly look grave and shake his head when he heard the story.

      Constance Fearing’s meditations, when she was left alone, were of a very different character. She stood for a long time at the window looking out into the purple haze that hung about the square, and then she turned and went and sat before the fire, and gazed at the glowing coals. George Wood could not but have felt flattered had he known that was the subject of her thoughts during the greater part

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