The City of Fire - Page 11/221

The minister had forgotten his article and was watching them through

the window, the tall handsome youth, his head bared with the glint of

the sun on his short cropped gold curls making one think of a young

prince, yet a prince bound under a spell and frozen in a block of ice.

He was handsome as Adonis, every feature perfect, and striking in its

manly beauty, yet there was nothing feminine about him. The minister

was conscious of all this as he watched--this boy whom he had seen grow

up, and this girl of his heart. A great still question came into the

father's look as he watched.

The minister was conscious of Lynn's mother standing in the doorway

just behind him, although she had made no noise in entering. And at

once she knew he was aware of her presence.

"Isn't that Mark Carter?" she asked just above a breath.

He nodded.

"And she doesn't know! You haven't told her?"

The minister shook his head.

"He will tell her. See, he is telling her now!"

The mother drew a shade nearer.

"But how do you know? See, she is doing the talking. You think he will

tell her? What will he tell her, Graham?"

"Oh, he will not tell her in words, but every atom of his being is

telling her now. Can't you see? He is telling her that he is no longer

worthy to be her equal. He is telling her that something has gone

wrong."

"Graham, what do you think is the matter with him? Do you think

he is--BAD?" She lifted frightened eyes to his as she dropped into her

low chair that always stood conveniently near his desk.

A wordless sorrow overspread the minister's face, yet there was

something valiant in his eyes.

"No, I can't think that. I must believe in him in spite of everything.

It looks to me somehow as if he was trying to be bad and couldn't."

"Well, but--Graham, isn't that the same thing? If he wants to be?"

The minister shook his head.

"He doesn't want to be. But he has some purpose in it. He is doing

it--perhaps--well--it might be for her sake you know."

The mother looked perplexed, and hesitated, then shook her head.

"That would be--preposterous! How could he hurt her so--if he cared. It

must be--he does not care--!"

"He cares!" said the man.

"Then how do you explain it?"

"I don't explain it."

"Are you going to let it go on?"