"Yes, sir."
"You found it difficult?"
"Not so difficult as your description led me to imagine."
"Were you lonely while I was away?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why did not Clara come and stay with you?"
"She was engaged in changing her home; has removed to Mrs. Hoyt's
boarding house."
"When did you see her last? How does she bear the blow?"
"I was with her to-day. She is desponding, and seems to grow more so
daily."
She wondered very much whether he suspected the preference which she
felt sure Clara entertained for him; and, as the subject recurred to
her, she looked troubled.
"What is the matter?" he asked, accustomed to reading her expressive
face.
"Nothing that can be remedied, sir."
"How do you know that? Suppose you let me be the judge."
"You could not judge of it, sir; and, besides, it is no concern of
mine."
A frigid smile fled over his face, and for some time he appeared
lost in thought. His companion was thinking too; wondering how Clara
could cope with such a nature as his; wondering why people always
selected persons totally unsuited to them; and fancying that if
Clara only knew her guardian's character as well as she did the
gentle girl would shrink in dread from his unbending will, his
habitual, moody taciturnity. He was generous and unselfish, but also
as unyielding as the Rock of Gibraltar. There was nothing
pleasurable in this train of thought, and, taking up a book, she
soon ceased to think of the motionless figure opposite. No sooner
were her eyes once fastened on her book than his rested searchingly
on her face. At first she read without much manifestation of
interest, regularly and slowly passing her hand over the black head
which Charon had laid on her lap. After a while the lips parted
eagerly, the leaves were turned quickly, and the touches on Charon's
head ceased. Her long, black lashes could not veil the expression of
enthusiastic pleasure. Another page fluttered over, a flush stole
across her brow; and, as she closed the volume, her whole face was
irradiated.
"What are you reading?" asked Dr. Hartwell, when she seemed to sink
into a reverie.
"Analects from Richter."
"De Quincey's!"
"Yes, sir."
"Once that marvelous 'Dream upon the Universe' fascinated me as
completely as it now does you."
Memories of earlier days clustered about him, parting the somber
clouds with their rosy fingers. His features began to soften.