nto the fire, and his task loomed more and
more disagreeably before him, he suddenly bethought him that
Elizabeth, in taking her evening walk, showed no disposition for a
private meeting. Dwelling on that one circumstance, he thought for
awhile he might have been wrong in supposing she loved him. But then
the previous night's incident recurred to his mind. Nothing short of
love could have induced such solicitude. But, then, as she sought no
last interview, might he not be warranted in going away and leaving
the disclosure to come gradually, implied by the absence of further
word from him? Yet, she might be purposely avoiding the appearance of
seeking an interview. The reasons calling for a prompt confession came
back to him. While he was wavering between one dictate and another, in
came Mr. Valentine, with a tobacco pipe.

Like an inspiration, rose the idea of consulting the octogenarian. A
man who cannot make up his own mind is justified in seeking counsel.
Elizabeth could suffer no harm through Peyton's confiding in this sage
old man, who was devoted to her and to her family. Mr. Valentine's
very words on entering, which alluded to Peyton's pleasant visit as
Elizabeth's guest, gave an opening for the subject concerned. A very
few speeches led up to the matter, which Harry broached, after
announcing that he took the old man for one experienced in matters of
the heart, and receiving the admission that the old man _had_ enjoyed
a share of the smiles of the sex. But if the captain had thought, in
seeking advice, to find reason for avoiding his ugly task, he was
disappointed. Old Valentine, though he had for some days feared a
possible state of things between the captain and Miss Sally, had
observed Elizabeth, and his vast experience had enabled him to
interpret symptoms to which others had been blind. "She has acted
towards you," he said to Peyton, "as she never acted towards another
man. She's shown you a meekness, sir, a kind of timidity." And he
agreed that, if Peyton should go away without an explanation, it would
make her throw aside other expectations, and would, in the end, "cut
her to the heart." Valentine hinted at regrettable things that had
ensued from a jilting of which himself had once been guilty, and urged
on Peyton an immediate unbosoming, adding, "She'll be so took aback
and so full of wrath at you, she won't mind the loss of you. She'll
abominate you and get over it at once."

The idea came to Peyton o