hould never put ill thoughts into a
man."
"Did thee not hope for money as I do when thee was young and knew the
woman who would be thy wife?"
"Samuel Biddle, I will do this for thee, as thee asks. Thee has grown upon
me much of late, and even as I once hoped, so it is meet that thee should
hope."
So I gave my savings and earnings into his keeping; and when I had gone
away to the lumber-regions I sent the money just the same.
"I thank thee for trusting father so much," said Barbara when we met after
this, and quite smiled in my face.
"Thy father trusts me beyond my trust in him in letting thee into my
keeping," I said.
"My!" said she. And we stood together for some little time, looking at
nothing in particular. And yet it was borne in upon me that friend Barbara
rarely thought of me when I was not present with her. I doubt much that
this should have given annoyance, for why should we pry into another's
thoughts? And yet it rankled in my bosom, and I could but feel that I knew
the truth. I should have liked her to think much of me, in sooth: I should
have liked her to think of me while she knitted the stockings in the
bright leafy porch or walked among her garden-herbs, or when she was busy
over her household cares. It was the vain-glorious feeling of youth which
prompted this doubt in me, but in youth vain-glory is what wisdom is in
age.
I bethink me that I have said "friend Barbara" at some parts of this
narration, at others simply "Barbara." I may do so again and yet again. It
is and will be just as she appeared to me at the times whereof I set it
down.
About this time--say three months after the First Day whereof I have
spoken--a very advantageous business-offer reached me from the
lumber-regions: I was to go there for a matter of six months, and I
should, perchance, be well remunerated for the going. I turned this matter
well over in my mind before I let it slip into another mind, and when I
deemed that I was resolute in forming and retaining my own set opinion I
imparted the knowledge to friend Hicks.
"Thee will assuredly go?" said he.
"Verily," I replied, and looked at Barbara, and saw that she knitted just
as actively and deftly as usual. This did not please me quite, for I
should have liked to see her pause and look up with much interest
manifested. But nay: she was ever the same. I could not guard my vain
tongue as I should have done; so, forgetting even her father's presence, I
said, "Fr
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