  After dinner was over, Reuben cried, "Come, Zillah, I'm going out with Dapple, and I'll give thee a ride that'll settle thy dinner. Emily, thee hasn't petted Dapple to-day. Thee's very forgetful of one of thy best friends." "Do you know," said Miss Warren to me as we followed the boy, "Reuben sent Dapple's love to me every time he wrote?" "It's just what Dapple would have done himself if he could. Did you refuse to receive it?" "No, indeed. Why should I?" "Oh, I'm not jealous; only I can't help thinking that the horse had greater privileges than I." She bit her lip, and her color deepened, but instead of answering she tripped away from me toward the barn. Dapple came prancing out, and whinnied as soon as he saw her. "Oh, he knows thee as well as I do," said Reuben. "He thinks thee's a jolly good girl. Thee's kind of cut me out; but I owe thee no grudge. See how he'll come to thee now," and sure enough, the horse came and put his nose in her hand, where he found a lump of sugar. "I won't give you fine words only, Dapple," she said, and the beautiful animal's spirited eyes grew mild and gentle as if he understood her perfectly. "Heaven grant that she gives me more than words!" I muttered. While Reuben was harnessing Dapple, Miss Warren entered the barn, saying: "I feel a little remorseful over my treatment of Old Plod, and think I will go and speak to him." "May I be present at the interview?" "Certainly." Either the old horse had grown duller and heavier than ever, or else was offended by her long neglect, for he paid her but little attention, and kept his head down in his manger. "Dapple would not treat you like that, even if you hadn't a lump of sugar in your hand." "Dapple is peculiar," she remarked. "Do you mean a little ill-balanced? He was certainly very precipitate on one occasion." "Yes, but he had the grace to stop before he did any harm." "But suppose he couldn't stop? Did Old Plod give you any more advice?" "Mr. Morton, you must cub your editorial habit of inquiring into everything. Am I a dragon?" "I fear you more than all the dragons put together." "Then you are a brave man to stay." "Not at all. To run away would be worse than death." "What an awful dilemma you are in! It seems to me, however, the coolest veteran in the land could not have made a better dinner while in such peril." "I had scarcely eaten anything since yesterday morning. Moreover, I was loyally bound to compliment Mrs. Yocomb's efforts in the only way that would have satisfied her." "That reminds me that I ought to go and help Mrs. Yocomb clear away the vast debris of such a dinner." "Miss Warren, I have only this afternoon and evening." "Truly, Mr. Morton, the pathos in your tones would move a post" "But will it move you? That's the question that concerns me. Will you take a walk with me?" "Indeed, I think I must go now, if I would not be thought more insensible than a post. Wait till I put on more wraps, and do you get your overcoat, sir, or you will take cold." "Yes, I'm awfully afraid I shall be chilled, and the overcoat wouldn't help me. Nevertheless, I'll do your bidding in this, as in all respects." "What a lamblike frame of mind!" she cried; but her step up the piazza was light and quick. "She could not so play with me if she meant to be cruel, for she has not a feline trait," I murmured, as I pulled on my ulster. "This genial day has been my ally, and she has not the heart to embitter it. So far from finding 'other interests,' she must have seen that time has intensified the one chief interest of my life. Oh, it would be like death to be sent away again. How beautiful she has become in her renewed health! Her great spiritual eyes make me more conscious of the woman-angel within her than of a flesh-and-blood girl. Human she is indeed, but never of the earth, earthy. Even when I take her hand, now again so plump and pretty, I feel the exquisite thrill of her life within. It's like touching a spirit, were such a thing possible. I crushed her hand this morning, brute that I was! It's been red all day. Well, Heaven speed me now!" "What! talking to yourself again, Mr. Morton?" asked Miss Warren, suddenly appearing, and looking anything but spirit-like, with her rich color and substantial wraps. "It's a habit of lonely people," I said. "The idea of a man being lonely among such crowds as you must meet!" "I have yet to learn that a crowd makes company." "Wouldn't you like to ask Mr. Yocomb to go with us?" "No," I replied, very brusquely. "I fear your lamblike mood is passing away." "Not at all. Moreover, I'm a victim of remorse—I hurt your hand this morning." "Yes, you did." "I've hurt you a great many times." "I'm alive, thank you, and have had a good dinner." "Yes, you are very much alive. Are you very amiable after dinner?" "No; that's a trait belonging to men alone. I now understand your lamblike mood. But where are you going, Mr. Morton? You are walking at random, and have brought up against the barn." "Oh, I see. Wouldn't you like to visit Old Plod again?" "No, I thank you; he has forgotten me." "By the way, we are friends, are we not, and can be very confidential?" "If you have any doubt, you had better be prudent and reticent." "I wish I could find some sweetbrier; I'd give you the whole bush." "Do you think I deserve a thorny experience?" "You know what I think. When was there an hour when you did not look through me as if I were glass. But we are confidential friends, are we not?" "Well, for the sake of argument we may imagine ourselves such." "To be logical, then, I must tell you something of which I have not yet spoken to any one. I called on Adah the evening I learned she was in town, and I saw her enter an elegant coupe driven by a coachman in stunning livery. A millionaire of your acquaintance accompanied her." "What!" she exclaimed, her face becoming fairly radiant. I nodded very significantly. "For shame, Mr. Morton! What a gossip you are!" but her laugh rang out like a chime of silver bells. At that moment Mr. Yocomb appeared on the piazza, and he applauded loudly, "Good for thee, Emily," he cried, "that sounds like old times." "Come away, quick," I said, and I strode rapidly around the barn. "Do you expect me to keep up with you?" she asked, stopping short and looking so piquant and tempting that I rejoined her instantly. "I'll go as slow as you please. I'll do anything under heaven you bid me." "You treat Mr. Yocomb very shabbily." "You won't make me go after him, will you?" "Why, Mr. Morton? What base ingratitude and after such a dinner, too." "You know how ill-balanced I am." "I fear you are growing worse and worse." "I am, indeed. Left to myself, I should be the most unbalanced man in the world." "Mr. Morton, your mind is clearly unsettled. I detected the truth the first day I saw you." "No, my mind, such as it is, is made up irrevocably and forever. I must tell you that I can't afford to keep a coupe." "There is a beautiful sequence in your remarks. Then you ought not to keep one. But why complain. There are always omnibuses within call." "Are you fond of riding in an omnibus?" "What an irrelevant question! Suppose I followed your example, and ask what you think of the Copernican system?" "You can't be ill-balanced if you try, and your question is not in the least irrelevant. The Copernican system is true, and illustrates my position exactly. There is a heavenly body, radiant with light and beauty, that attracts me irresistibly. The moment I came within her influence my orbit was fixed." "Isn't your orbit a little eccentric?" she asked, with averted face. "Still your figure may be very apt. Another body of greater attraction would carry you off into space." "There is no such body in existence." "Mr. Morton, we were talking about omnibuses." "And you have not answered my question." "Since we are such confidential friends, I will tell you a profound secret. I prefer street cars to omnibuses, and would much rather ride in one than in a carriage that I could not pay for." "Well, now, that's sensible." "Yes, quite matter-of-fact. Where are you going, Mr. Morton?" "Wherever you wish—even to Columbus." "What! run away from your work and duty? Where is your conscience?" "Where my heart is." "Oh, both are in Columbus. I should think it inconvenient to have them so far off." I tried to look in her eyes, but she turned them away. "I can prove that my conscience was in Columbus; I consulted you on every question I discussed in the paper." "Nonsense! you never wrote me a line." "I was enjoined not to in a way that made my blood run cold. But I thought Mrs. Vining's opinions might be influenced by a member of her family, and I never wrote a line unmindful of that influence." Again her laugh rang out. "I should call the place where you wrote the Circumlocution Office. Well, to keep up your way of doing things, that member of the family read most critically all you wrote." "How could you tell my work from that of others?" "Oh, I could tell every line from your hand as if spoken to me." "Well, fair critic?" "Never compliment a critic. It makes them more severe." "I could do so much better if you were in New York." "What! Do you expect me to go into the newspaper business?" "You are in it now—you are guiding me. You are the inspiration of my best work, and you know it." We had now reached a point where the lane wound through a hemlock grove. My hope was glad and strong, but I resolved at once to remove all shadow of fear, and I shrank from further probation. Therefore I stopped decisively, and said in a voice that faltered not a little: "Emily, our light words are but ripples that cover depths which in my case reach down through life and beyond it. You are my fate. I knew it the day I first met you. I know it now with absolute conviction." She turned a little away from me and trembled. "Do you remember this?" I asked, and I took from my pocketbook the withered York and Lancaster rosebud. She gave it a dark glance, and her crimson face grew pale. "Too well," she replied, in a low tone. I threw it down and ground it under my heel; then, removing my hat, I said: "I am at your mercy. You are the stronger, and your foot is on my neck." She turned on me instantly, and her face was aflame with her eager imperious demand to know the truth. Taking both my hands in a tense, strong grasp, she looked into my eyes as if she would read my very soul. "Richard," she said, in a voice that was half entreaty, half command, "in God's name, tell me the truth—the whole truth. Do you respect me at heart? Do you trust me? Can you trust me as Mr. Yocomb trusts his wife?" "I will make no comparisons," I replied, gently. "Like the widow in the Her tense grasp relaxed, her searching eyes melted into love itself, and I snatched her to my heart. "What were the millions I lost compared with this dowry!" she murmured. "Emily," I said, with a low laugh, "that June day was the day of fate after all." "It was, indeed. I wish I could make you know how gladly I accept mine. Oh, Richard, I nearly killed myself trying not to love you. It was fate, or something better." "Then suppose we change the figure, and say our match was made in heaven." I will not attempt to describe that evening at the farmhouse. We were made to feel that it was our own dear home—a safe, quiet haven ever open to us when we wished to escape from the turmoil of the world. I thank God for our friends there, and their unchanging truth. I accompanied Emily to Columbus, but I went after her again in the spring and for a time she made her home with Mrs. Yocomb. Adah was married at Mrs. Winfield's large city mansion, for Mr. Hearn had a host of relatives and friends whom he wished present. The farmhouse would not have held a tithe of them, and the banker was so proud of his fair country flower that he seemed to want the whole world to see her. We were married on the anniversary of the day of our fate, and in the old garden where I first saw my Eve, my truth. She has never tempted me to aught save good deeds and brave work. THE END***** Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. 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