e about
such things, what chance have I at all? I hoped that the hour, the
beauty of the evening, and the evidence that I had been trying so hard
to please him would make him more like what he used to be before he
seemed to take a dislike. There's only one way to account for it
all--he sees how I feel and he doesn't like it. My very love sets him
against me. My heart was overflowing tonight. How could I help it, as
I remembered how he stood up for me? He was brave and kind; he meant
well by me, he means well now; but he can't help his feelings. He has
gone away now to think of the woman that he did love and loves still,
and it angers him that I should think of taking her place. He loved
her as a child and girl and woman--he told me so; he warned me and said
he could not help thinking of her. If I had not learned to love him so
deeply and passionately and show it in spite of myself, time would
gradually have softened the past and all might have gone well. Yet how
could I help it when he saved me from so much? I feel tonight, though,
that I only escaped one kind of trouble to meet another almost as bad
and which may become worse."

She strolled to the farther end of the garden that she might become
calm before meeting Jane's scrutiny. Useless precaution! For the girl
had been watching them both. Her motive had not been unmixed
curiosity, since, having taken some part in the garden work, she had
wished to witness Holcroft's pleasure and hear his praises. Since the
actors in the scene so misunderstood each other, she certainly would
not rightly interpret them. "She's losin' her hold on 'im," she
thought, "He acted just as if she was mother."

When Jane saw Alida coming toward the house she whisked from the
concealing shrubbery to the kitchen again and was stolidly washing the
dishes when her mistress entered. "You are slow tonight," said Alida,
looking at the child keenly, but the impassive face revealed nothing.
She set about helping the girl, feeling it would be a relief to keep
her hands busy.

Jane's efforts to comfort were always maladroit, yet the apparent
situation so interested her that she yielded to her inclination to
talk. "Say," she began, and Alida was too dejected and weary to correct
the child's vernacular, "Mr. Holcroft's got somethin' on his mind."

"Well, that's not strange."

"No, s'pose not. Hate to see 'im look so, though. He always used to
look so when mother went for 'im and hung a