. Arp, he immediately proceeded: "Will you go riding with
me to-morrow afternoon?"

"Aren't you very good-natured, Mr. Flitcroft?" she asked, with an odd
intonation.

"I'm imposed on, often enough," he replied, rubbing his leg, "by people
who think I am! Why?"

"It is only that your sitting so abruptly upon the ground reminded me
of something that happened long ago, before I left Canaan, the last
time I met you."

"I don't think I knew you before you went away. You haven't said if
you'll go riding with me to-morrow. Please--"

"Get up," interrupted Mr. Arp, acidly. "Somebody 'll fall over you if
you stay there."

Such a catastrophe in truth loomed imminent. Judge Pike was rapidly
approaching on his way to the house, Bible in hand--far better in hand
than was his temper, for it is an enraging thing to wait five hours in
ambush for a man who does not come. In the darkness a desecration
occurred, and Norbert perfected to the last detail whatever had been
left incomplete of his own destruction. He began lumberingly to rise,
talking at the same time, urging upon Ariel the charms of the roadside;
wild flowers were in blossom, he said, recounting the benefits she
might derive through acceptance of his invitation; and having, thus
busily, risen to his knees, became aware that some one was passing near
him. This some one Mr. Flitcroft, absorbed in artful persuasions, may
have been betrayed by the darkness to mistake for Eugene. Reaching out
for assistance, he mechanically seized upon the skirts of a coat, which
he put to the uses of a rope, coming up hand-over-hand with such noble
weight and energy that he brought himself to his feet and the owner of
the coat to the ground simultaneously. The latter, hideously
astonished, went down with an objurgation so outrageous in venom that
Mr. Arp jumped with the shock. Judge Pike got to his feet quickly, but
not so quickly as the piteous Flitcroft betook himself into the deep
shadows of the street. Only a word, hoarse and horror-stricken, was
left quivering on the night breeze by this accursed, whom the gods,
intent upon his ruin, had early in the day, at his first sight of
Ariel, in good truth, made mad: "MURDER!"

"Can I help you brush off, Judge?" asked Eskew, rising painfully.

Either Martin Pike was beyond words, or the courtesy proposed by the
feeble old fellow (for Eskew was now very far along in years, and
looked his age) emphasized too bitterly the indignity