seem totally different from any other man I ever knew."

That this was a profound and original discovery there could be no doubt,
from the conviction with which it was announced. "I felt from the first
that I could trust you."

"I wish"--and there was genuine feeling in the tone--"I were worthier of
such a generous trust."

There was a wistful look in her face--timidity, self-depreciation,
worship--as Henderson rose and stood near her, and she looked up while
he took the broken flower from her hand. There was but one answer
to this, and in spite of the open piazza and the all-observant,
all-revealing day, it might have been given; but at the moment Miss
Forsythe was seen hurrying towards them through the shrubbery. She came
straight to where they stood, with an air of New England directness and
determination. One hand she gave to Henderson, the other to Margaret.
She essayed to speak, but tears were in her eyes, and her lips trembled;
the words would not come. She regarded them for an instant with all the
overflowing affection of a quarter of a century of repression, and then
quickly turned and went in. In a moment they followed her. Heaven go
with them!

After Henderson had made his hasty adieus at our house and gone, before
the sun was down, Margaret came over. She came swiftly into the room,
gave me a kiss as I rose to greet her, with a delightful impersonality,
as if she owed a debt somewhere and must pay it at once--we men who are
so much left out of these affairs have occasionally to thank Heaven for
a merciful moment--seized my wife, and dragged her to her room.

"I couldn't wait another moment," she said, as she threw herself on my
wife's bosom in a passion of tears. "I am so happy! he is so noble, and
I love him so!" And she sobbed as if it were the greatest calamity in
the world. And then, after a little, in reply to a question--for women
are never more practical than in such a crisis: "Oh, no--not for a long,
long, long time. Not before autumn."

And the girl looked, through her glad tears, as if she expected to be
admired for this heroism. And I have no doubt she was.

XII

Well, that was another success. The world is round, and like a ball
seems swinging in the air, and swinging very pleasantly, thought
Henderson, as he stepped on board the train that evening. The world
is truly what you make it, and Henderson was determined to make it
agreeable. His philosophy was concise, and might be hung