It's the first time I ever spoke unkindly to her."
"Shall I tell the judge the result of his telegram, or will you?"
"Have you the messages with you?"
He bundled them into her hand.
"I will hand them in to him. We can do nothing less and nothing
more. Then if he wants you, I will telephone."
"Mrs. Scoville?"
She felt his hand laid softly on her shoulder.
"Yes, Mr. Black."
"There is some one else in this matter to consider besides Judge
Ostrander."
"Reuther? Oh, don't I know it! She's not out of my mind a moment."
"Reuther is young, and has a gallant soul. I mean you, Mrs.
Scoville, you! You are not to succumb to this trial. You have a
future--a bright future--or should have. Do not endanger it by
giving up all your strength now. It's precious, that strength, or
would be--"
He broke off; she began to move away. Overhead in the narrow space
of sky visible to them from where they stood, the stars burned
brightly. Some instinct made them look up; as they did so, their
hands met. Then a gruff sound broke the silence. It was Alanson
Black's voice uttering a grim farewell.
"He must be found! Oliver must be found!" How the words rung in
her ears. She had handed in the messages to the waiting father;
she had uttered a word or two of explanation, and then, at his
request, had left him. But his last cry followed her: "He must be
found!"
When she told it to Mr. Black the next morning, he looked serious.
"Pride or hope?" he asked.
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