side their grudge against him, and that
his luck had turned. When he read the letter announcing that the poor
little dimpler was in dire tribulation, and asking him to return to her
at once and save her from disgrace, he still felt that the fates had
changed--but for the worse. He was sure Sukey might, with equal
propriety, make her appeal to several other young men--especially to Tom
Bays; but he was not strong enough in his conviction to relieve himself
of blame, or entirely to throw off a sense of responsibility. In truth,
he had suffered for weeks with an excruciating remorse; and the sin into
which he had been tempted had been resting like lead upon his
conscience. He remembered Billy's warning against Sukey's too seductive
charms; and although he had honestly tried to follow the advice, and had
clearly seen the danger, he had permitted himself to be lured into a
trap by a full set of dimples and a pair of moist, red lips. He was not
so craven as to say, even to himself, that Sukey was to blame; but deep
in his consciousness he knew that he had tried not to sin; and that
Sukey, with her allurements, half childish, half-womanly, and
all-enticing, had tempted him, and he had eaten. The news in her letter
entirely upset him. For a time he could not think coherently. He had
never loved Sukey, even for a moment. He could not help admiring her
physical beauty. She was a perfect specimen of her type, and her too
affectionate heart and joyous, never-to-be-ruffled good humor made her
a delightful companion, well fitted to arouse tenderness. Add virtue and
sound principle to Sukey's other attractions, and she would have made a
wife good enough for a king--too good, far too good. For the lack of
those qualities she was not to blame, since they spring from heredity or
environment. Sukey's parents were good, honest folk, but wholly unfitted
to bring up a daughter. Sukey at fourteen was quite mature, and gave
evidence of beauty so marked as to attract men twice her age, who "kept
company" with her, as the phrase went, sat with her till late in the
night, took her out to social gatherings, and--God help the girl, she
was not to blame. She did only as others did, as her parents permitted;
and her tender little heart, so prone to fondness, proved to be a curse
rather than the blessing it would have been if properly directed and
protected. Mentally, physically, and temperamentally she was very close
to nature, and nature, in the human