I have taken too much for granted, fool that I am. Bah! The
egotism of a fool!"
"You must not speak like that," she said, her face contracted by pain
and pity. "You are the most wonderful man I've ever known--the best and
the truest. But--" and she paused, with a wan, drear smile on her lips.
"I understand," he interrupted. "Don't say it. I want to think that some
day you will feel like saying something else, and I want to hope,
Rosalie, that it won't always be like this. Let us talk about something
else." But neither cared to speak for what seemed an hour. They were in
sight of home before the stony silence was broken. "I may come over from
Bonner Place to see you?" he asked at last. He was to cross the river
the next day for a stay of a week or two at his uncle's place.
"Yes--often, Wicker. I shall want to see you every day. Yes, every day;
I'm sure of it," she said wistfully, a hungry look in her eyes that he
did not see, for he was staring straight ahead. Had he seen that look or
caught the true tone in her voice, the world might not have looked so
dark to him. When he did look at her again, her face was calm almost to
sereneness.
"And you will come to Boston in June just the same?"
"If your sister and--and your mother still want me to come."
[Illustration: "'I think I understand, rosalie'"]
She was thinking of herself, the nameless one, in the house of his
people; she was thinking of the doubts, the speculations--even the fears
that would form the background of her welcome in that proud house.
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