perhaps only the result
of a certain high-strung jealousy on Olive's part of her friend's other
personal ties, Verena had drawn him in, had made him sympathise with the
great reform and desire to work for it. Ransom saw no reason why such an
illusion should be dear to Miss Birdseye; his contact with her in the
past had been so momentary that he could not account for her taking an
interest in his views, in his throwing his weight into the right scale.
It was part of the general desire for justice that fermented within her,
the passion for progress; and it was also in some degree her interest in
Verena--a suspicion, innocent and idyllic, as any such suspicion on Miss
Birdseye's part must be, that there was something between them, that the
closest of all unions (as Miss Birdseye at least supposed it was) was
preparing itself. Then his being a Southerner gave a point to the whole
thing; to bring round a Southerner would be a real encouragement for one
who had seen, even at a time when she was already an old woman, what was
the tone of opinion in the cotton States. Ransom had no wish to
discourage her, and he bore well in mind the caution Doctor Prance had
given him about destroying her last theory. He only bowed his head very
humbly, not knowing what he had done to earn the honour of being the
subject of it. His eyes met Verena's as she looked up at him from her
place at Miss Birdseye's feet, and he saw she was following his thought,
throwing herself into it, and trying to communicate to him a wish. The
wish touched him immensely; she was dreadfully afraid he would betray
her to Miss Birdseye--let her know how she had cooled off. Verena was
ashamed of that now, and trembled at the danger of exposure; her eyes
adjured him to be careful of what he said. Her tremor made him glow a
little in return, for it seemed to him the fullest confession of his
influence she had yet made.

"We have been a very happy little party," she said to the old lady. "It
is delightful that you should have been able to be with us all these
weeks."

"It has been a great rest. I am very tired. I can't speak much. It has
been a lovely time. I have done so much--so many things."

"I guess I wouldn't talk much, Miss Birdseye," said Doctor Prance, who
had now knelt down on the other side of her. "We know how much you have
done. Don't you suppose every one knows _your_ life?"

"It isn't much--only I tried to take hold. When I look back from here,
from wh