"Was it? How were you sure it was I?"
"In Carlow County!"
"He might have written it himself."
"Fisbee has never in his life read anything lighter than cuneiform
inscriptions."
"Miss Briscoe----"
"She doesn't read Lewis Carroll; and it was not her hand. What made you
write it on Fisbee's manuscript?"
"He was with us this afternoon, and I teased him a little about your
heading. 'Business and the Cradle, the Altar, and the Tomb,' isn't it? And
he said it had always troubled him, but that you thought it good. So do I.
He asked me if I could think of anything that you might like better, to
put in place of it, and I wrote, 'The time has come,' because it was the
only thing I could think of that was as appropriate and as fetching as
your headlines. He was perfectly dear about it. He was so serious; he said
he feared it wouldn't be acceptable. I didn't notice that the paper he
handed me to write on was part of his notes, nor did he, I think.
Afterward, he put it back in his pocket. It wasn't a message."
"I'm not so sure he did not notice. He is very wise. Do you know, somehow,
I have the impression that the old fellow wanted me to meet you."
"How dear and good of him!" She spoke earnestly, and her face was suffused
with a warm light. There was no doubt about her meaning what she said.
"It was," John answered, unsteadily. "He knew how great was my need of a
few moments' companionableness with--with----"
"No," she interrupted. "I meant dear and good to me, because I think he
was thinking of me, and it was for my sake he wanted us to meet."
It would have been hard to convince a woman, if she had overheard this
speech, that Miss Sherwood's humility was not the calculated affectation
of a coquette. Sometimes a man's unsuspicion is wiser, and Harkless knew
that she was not flirting with him. In addition, he was not a fatuous man;
he did not extend the implication of her words nearly so far as she would
have had him.
"But I had met you," said he, "long ago."
"What!" she cried, and her eyes danced. "You actually remember?"
"Yes; do you?" he answered. "I stood in Jones's field and heard you
singing, and I remembered. It was a long time since I had heard you sing: "'I was a ruffler of Flanders,
And fought for a florin's hire.
You were the dame of my captain
And sang to my heart's desire.'