“And when I think,” continued Ruth, “of how he was willing to sacrifice his character and his honor and even to risk losing your father’s friendship—­how he proclaimed himself a thief to save Charlie!  When I think of that I scarcely know whether to laugh or cry.  I want to do both, of course.  It was perfectly characteristic and perfectly adorable—­and so absolutely absurd.  I love him for it, and as yet I haven’t dared thank him for fear I shall cry again, as I did when Captain Hunniwell told us.  Yet, when I think of his declaring he took the money to buy a suit of clothes, I feel like laughing.  Oh, he is a dear, isn’t he?”

Now, ordinarily, Maud would have found nothing in this speech to arouse resentment.  There was the very slight, and in this case quite unintentional, note of patronage in it that every one used when referring to Jed Winslow.  She herself almost invariably used that note when speaking of him or even to him.  But now her emotions were so deeply stirred and the memories of her recent interview with Jed, of his understanding and his sympathy, were so vivid.  And, too, she had just had that glimpse into his most secret soul.  So her tone, as she replied to Ruth’s speech, was almost sharp.

“He didn’t do it for Charlie,” she declared.  “That is, of course he did, but that wasn’t the real reason.”

“Why, what do you mean?”

“Don’t you know what I mean?  Don’t you really know?”

“Why, of course I don’t.  What are you talking about?  Didn’t do it for Charlie?  Didn’t say that he was a thief and give your father his own money, do you mean?  Do you mean he didn’t do that for Charlie?”

“Yes.  He did it for you.”

“For me?  For me?”

“Yes. . . .  Oh, can’t you understand?  It’s absurd and foolish and silly and everything, but I know it’s true.  Jed Winslow is in love with you, Mrs. Armstrong.”

Ruth leaned back in her chair and stared at her as if she thought her insane.

“In love with me?” she repeated.  “Jed Winslow!  Maud, don’t!”

“It’s true, I tell you.  I didn’t know until just now, although if it had been any one but Jed I should have suspected for some time.  But to-day when I went in there I saw him sitting before his desk looking down into an open drawer there.  He has your photograph in that drawer.  And, later on, when you came out into the yard, I saw him watching you; I saw his face and that was enough. . . .  Oh, don’t you see?” impatiently.  “It explains everything.  You couldn’t understand, nor could I, why he should sacrifice himself so for Charlie.  But because Charlie was your brother—­that is another thing.  Think, just think!  You and I would have guessed it before if he had been any one else except just Jed.  Yes, he is in love with you. . . .  It’s crazy and it’s ridiculous and—­and all that, of course it is.  But,” with a sudden burst of temper, “if you—­if you dare to laugh I’ll never speak to you again.”