“Yes; he is like that; he can do such things,” murmured Sylvia.

“History has been making rapidly in the past twenty-four hours.  Bassett has bought Thatcher’s interest in the ‘Courier,’ and he proposes editing it himself.  More than that, he was at my office this morning when I got there, and he asked me, as a special favor to him, to take a few shares in the company to qualify me as secretary of the corporation, and said he wanted me to help him.  He said he thought it about time for Indiana to have a share in the general reform movement; talked about it as though this were something he had always intended doing, but had been prevented by press of other matters.  He spoke of the Canneries case and wanted to know if I cared to reconsider my refusal to settle it.  He put it quite impersonally—­said Fitch told him he couldn’t do more than prolong the litigation by appeals, and that in the end he was bound to be whipped.  And I agreed, on terms that really weren’t generous on my part.  He said all right; that he wanted to clear up all his old business as quickly as possible.  As he left my office I almost called him back to throw off the last pound I had exacted; he really made me feel ashamed of my greed.  The old spell he had for me in the beginning came back again.  I believe in him; I never believed in any man so much, Sylvia!  And if he does throw his weight on the right side it will mean a lot to every good cause men and women are contending for these days.  It will mean a lot to the state, to the whole country.”

“And so much, oh, so much to him!”

Just what had passed between Bassett and Sylvia he only surmised; but it was clear that the warmth with which he had spoken of his old employer was grateful to Sylvia.  He had not meant to dwell upon Bassett, and yet the brightening of her eyes, her flash of feeling, the deep inner meaning of her ejaculation, had thrilled him.

“I’ve said more than I meant to; I didn’t come to talk of those things, Sylvia.”

“I’m glad you thought I should like to know—­about him.  I’m glad you told me.”

They were quiet for a little while, then he said, “Sylvia!” very softly.

“Not that, Dan; please!  I can’t bear to hear that.  It will break my heart if you begin that!”

She rose and faced him, her back to the wall.

He had come to complete the declaration which the song had interrupted on the lake, and at the first hint the chords that had been touched by the unknown singer vibrated sharply, bringing back her old heartache.  He crossed to her quickly that he might show her how completely the memory of that night had been obliterated; that it had vanished utterly and ceased to be, like the ripple stirred to a moment’s life by the brush of a swallow’s wing on still water.  He stood beside her and took both her hands in his strong clasp.

“We are going to be married, Sylvia; we are going to be married, here, now, to-day!”