But no one except Ruth looked at William Pressley or thought of him.  Philip Alston calmly and courteously repeated his request, and with Ruth’s gaze urging it, Paul Colbert could not refuse to grant it.  He took up his hat and went toward the door with Ruth walking by his side.  And then, with his hand on the latch, he paused and turned, and looking over her head, gazed steadily and meaningly into the eyes of the three men.  He looked first and longest at Philip Alston; then at William Pressley, and finally at the judge, with a slight change of expression.  To each one of the three men his look said as plainly as if it had been put into words, that he held himself ready for anything and everything that any or all of them might have to say to him—­out of her sight and hearing and knowledge.  And they, in turn, understood, for that was the way of their country, of their time, and their kind; and having done this he went quietly away.

XXIV

OLD LOVE’S STRIVING WITH YOUNG LOVE

That night Philip Alston stayed later than usual at Cedar House.  He was waiting for the others to go to bed, so that he might have a quiet talk with Ruth.  On one or two rare occasions they had been left alone together before the wide hearth, and they both looked back on these times as among the pleasantest they had ever known.  But the opportunities for privacy are very few where there is only one living room for an entire family, and the size and publicity of this great room of Cedar House made them fewer than they could have been in almost any other household.  And Ruth, seeing what he wished, was looking forward now with even greater delight than she had felt heretofore; the delight that young love feels at the thought of giving its first confidence to a loving, sympathetic heart.  She looked at him often through the waiting, with shining eyes, so happy, so eager to ask him to share her happiness that she could hardly wait till the others were gone.  William Pressley did not tax her patience long and the judge, too, soon went away to his cabin with David to see that he reached it safely.  The old ladies were slower in going; Miss Penelope had many domestic duties to perform, and the movements of the widow Broadnax were always governed entirely by hers.  But they, also, went at last with Ruth to assist the stouter lady in getting up the stairs.

The girl came flying down again, with her eyes dancing and her heart playing a tune.  Philip Alston rose as she approached, and stood awaiting her with a look on his face that she had never seen before.

“You are tired, dear uncle Philip,” she said, taking his hand and holding it against her cheek as she raised her radiant eyes to his face.  “Come to the fire and take this big chair.  I will sit on the footstool at your knee.  There, now!  You can rest and be happy.  Isn’t it sweet to be alone—­just you and I—­together like this!  I love you so dearly, dear uncle Philip.  It seems as if I had never before really known just how much I do love you.  It seems as if my heart couldn’t hold quite all the happiness that fills it to-night.  And the tenderness filling it to the brim brings a new feeling of your goodness to me.”