"Are you?" he said, with difficulty controlling his voice. "So am I; but
I'm still more glad that I have been able to meet you so soon. You are
looking--well." Poor fellow! He wanted to say, "more beautiful than
ever; and I love you." "You are happy, I hope?"
"Quite," Celia replied, raising a face that was radiant. And at that
moment she was happy indeed, suffused with a strange, sweet happiness
which she did not understand. "I have got a splendid berth. But, of
course, you know, or you wouldn't be here. Reggie told you."
"Yes," he said, glad to fall on Reggie as a subject for conversation.
"He's a strange young man, but he appears to be a good friend of yours."
"Oh, yes, he is. Yes; isn't he singular? I met him at the Museum. Oh,
long, long ago--And yet it isn't so long, though it seems so," she
added, musingly, and more to herself than to him. "Yes; isn't he
quaint?"
"But he's got a good heart," said Derrick, with a smile. Then he felt he
could bring the conversation back to themselves. "I am so glad you are
happy. I got your address--I can see you are wondering how I got
it--from another friend of yours, Mr. Clendon, a remarkably nice old
gentleman who was extremely kind to me. Of course, I went to Brown's
Buildings the day I arrived."
She blushed and her eyes were downcast for a moment. Why "of course"?
She pondered this, with a thrill of the heart.
"Tell me about yourself, what you've been doing," she said. "You won't
think me curious? But, of course, I am interested----"
"Naturally, seeing that you saved me, set my feet on a new path," he
said; and as he spoke, he seated himself on the bank beside her; but a
little lower, so that he could look up into her face. "I've had rather a
curious time, since we parted."
Then he told her, as briefly as he could, the story of his adventures.
And she listened--well, as Desdemona of old listened to Othello; that is
to say, her star-like eyes were fixed on his face, as if they were
chained there, and she listened, sometimes her breath growing fast,
sometimes with an exclamation of amazement, of fear. Her interest, her
absorption were so intense that perhaps she was not conscious that
imperceptibly he had drawn closer to her, so that his arm was touching
her dress and his face was very near hers. Woman is never so charming to
us men as when she is listening to the story of our lives; and, oh, what
a sympathetic listener was this beautiful, dainty girl, with her
wide-open eyes, her red, parted lips, her little sighs and murmured
exclamations!