counting eggs." Rufus Blight's voice was low and he spoke
rapidly. He seemed to have it in his mind that I knew the story of
those early days, had heard it, perhaps, from the lips of his brother
or from common report, for men are prone to think their fellows well
informed of the conspicuous facts of their lives. I dared not
interrupt again for an explanation, lest my question should betray me
to him as nothing more than a curious stranger. I know the story now
in all its detail, but it came to me only from Rufus Blight, and from
him in a few scattered threads, dropped for me to weave while in his
den that night; feeling that he had found one whom he could trust, he
unburdened his heart. Doubtless he had no such thought when he led me
into the room, but there might have been in my eyes, when he spoke of
the valley, some light of sympathy. And when he turned from that great
hall, from his heavy table and his liveried servants, to speak of
counting eggs and weighing butter, I had not even smiled at the
incongruity. Then the dam broke, and memories backed up in years of
silence broke forth in a quick and troubled flood.

"It was my fault, David, as much as his. I was a grub--a dull, toiling
grub. But those long hours that I was toiling came to be good hours
for me when it was for her sake. Why, it seemed that every pound of
sugar I sold, that every little profit I made, was for her. I planned
the finest house in the country as I stood all day at the counter, and
it was for her. She was to have it all, and I only asked to be allowed
to grub away--for her. She didn't understand me, David. She used to
taunt me with being sordid, and said that I stayed at the store early
and late because I loved a dollar most. I didn't understand women. I
guess at least I should have closed up the store for an evening or two
a week, and yet"--Rufus Blight hesitated--"and yet it wouldn't have
made any difference. Hendry was a tall fellow. I was short and rather
fat. Hendry could talk in a wonderful way. I was always silent except
when it came to a trade. It had to be as it was, David, but it was
hard--very hard. I don't think I said any more than most men would
have said to him--perhaps less, because I never was a talker. And,
after all, I couldn't blame them. Why, I remember, as I was leaving
the valley, I said to him that if they ever needed a home they must
come to me. He was offended. He drew himself up and said pro