Jewel Weed

She had a picture of a lonely childhood, fatherless and motherless and

pervaded with a longing for love that early learned to keep silence.

That had been the first step in his self-possession. Education had been

hard to get, and yet he had got what to the sons of rich men comes

easily, and because to him it meant struggle, it had been the more

treasured. Knowledge came hard because his mind worked slowly and

painfully; therefore his grip was the tighter, and the habits of thought

wrought out by exercise were now giving him a facility that cleverer men

might envy. He could not know how the simple history gave her an

impression of slow irresistible manhood, always, without drifting,

moving toward its chosen end.

When they halted at her door, she had a feeling that she could not let

him go, just yet.

"You'll come in and dine with us, will you not?" she asked impulsively.

"I wish I might," he answered with that longing tone one falls into when

surveying an impossible and alluring temptation. "I simply have to work

to-night. I'm already late for my engagement. May I come sometime

soon?"

"I wish you would. Father is really very fond of you," she went on,

defending her warmth. "He likes young men. He has a sneaking longing for

them that no mere girl satisfies. Dick used to be a great deal to him,

but--Dick has drifted away. You have not been to see us for a long

time."

"Not since the day that Dick's engagement was announced," he answered,

looking her boldly in the face. "I couldn't. You made me feel then that

you despised me."

"I despised you?" she spoke with bland innocence but rising color.

"Yes."

Madeline hesitated and looked down. She was scarlet.

"I'm not going to pretend to misunderstand you," she said, and turned

laughing eyes toward him. "I knew all the time that it was Dick who had

done some shabby thing, and you were trying to shield him."

"You knew?"

"Of course I knew."

"But you told me I ought to get a mask," Ellery fumbled.

"I meant when you try to tell lies. You don't do it with the grace and

conviction of an accomplished hand. Pooh, I can read you like an open

book."

"I am very glad you can," he said deliberately. "I thank God you can,

because on every page you will read the truth--that I love you--I love

you. I'm wanting you to read it in your own way, but some time I am

going to let the passion of it loosen this slow tongue of mine and tell

you in my own fashion how much it is."

He turned and strode abruptly away. Madeline went in to the firelight of

home.