Then Oliver remarked quite
simply:
"My haste seemed warranted by my father's message. Five minutes,--
one minute even is of great importance when you have but fifteen
in which to catch a train."
"And by such a route!"
"You know my route." A short laugh escaped him. "I feared the
delay--possibly the interference--But why discuss these
unimportant matters! I succeeded in my efforts. I am here, at my
father's command, unattended and, as I believe, without the
knowledge of any one but yourself and Mrs. Scoville. But your
reason for these hasty summons--that is what I am ready now to
hear." And he sat down, but in such a way as to throw his face
very much into the shadow.
This was a welcome circumstance to the lawyer. His task promised
to be hard enough at the best. Black night had not offered too
dark a screen between him and the man thus suddenly called upon to
face suspicions the very shadow of which is enough to destroy a
life. The hardy lawyer shrunk from uttering the words which would
make the gulf imaginatively opening between them a real, if not
impassable, one. Something about the young man appealed to him--
something apart from his relationship to the judge--something
inherent in himself. Perhaps it was the misery he betrayed.
Perhaps it was the memory of Reuther's faith in him and how that
faith must suffer when she saw him next. Instantaneous
reflections; but epoch-making in a mind like his. Alanson Black
had never hesitated before in the face of any duty, and it robbed
him of confidence.
Pages:
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297