n on a woman's face; such a look, he thought, as she would wear
if she came to love some archangel (her love should be no less) with all
of her heart and soul and strength. And so he knew he had seen a vision.
But it was a cruel one to visit a man who loved her. He had summoned his
philosophy and his courage in his interview with himself on the way to
Carlow, and they had answered; but nothing could answer if his eyes were
to play him tricks and bring her visibly before him, and with such an
expression as he had seen upon her face. It was too real. It made his
eyes yearn for the sight of her with an ache that was physical. And
even at that moment, he saw, far ahead of them on the road, two figures
standing in front of the brick house. One was unmistakable at any
distance. It was that of old Fisbee; and the other was a girl's: a
light, small figure without a hat, and the low, western sun dwelt on a
head that shone with gold. Harkless put his hand over his eyes with a
pain that was like the taste of hemlock in nectar.

"Sun in your eyes?" asked Keating, lifting his hat, so as to shield the
other's face.

"Yes."

When he looked again, both figures were gone. He made up his mind that
he would think of the only other person who could absorb his attention,
at least for a time; very soon he would stand face to face with the six
feet of brawn and intelligence and manhood that was young Fisbee.

"You are sure he is there?" he asked Tom Martin.

"Yes," answered Martin, with no need to inquire whom the editor meant.
"I reckon," he continued, solemnly, peering at the other from under his
rusty hat-brim, "I reckon when you see him, maybe you'll want to put a
kind of codicil to that deed to the 'Herald.'"

"How's that, Martin?"

"Why, I guess maybe you'll--well, wait till you see him."

"I don't want to wait much longer, when I remember what I owe him
and how I have used him, and that I have been here nearly three hours
without seeing him."

As they neared the brick house Harkless made out, through the trees, a
retreative flutter of skirts on the porch, and the thought crossed his
mind that Minnie had flown indoors to give some final directions toward
the preparation of the banquet; but when the barouche halted at the
gate, he was surprised to see her waving to him from the steps, while
Tom Meredith and Mr. Bence and Mr. Boswell formed a little court around
her. Lige Willetts rode up on horse back at the same moment, and th