Mr. Clement had the power of looking steadily into another person’s eyes in a way that was by no means encouraging to curiosity or favorable to the process of cross-examination.  Mr. Bradshaw was not disposed to press his question in the face of the calm, repressive look the young man gave him.

“If he was n’t bagged, I shouldn’t like the shape of things any too well,” he said to himself.

The conversation between Mr. Clement Lindsay and Miss Susan Posey, as they walked home together, was not very brilliant.  “I am going to-morrow morning,” he said, “and I must bid you good-by tonight.”  Perhaps it is as well to leave two lovers to themselves, under these circumstances.

Before he went he spoke to his worthy host, whose moderate demands he had to satisfy, and with whom he wished to exchange a few words.

“And by the way, Deacon, I have no use for this book, and as it is in a good type, perhaps you would like it.  Your favorite, Scott, and one of his greatest works.  I have another edition of it at home, and don’t care for this volume.”

“Thank you, thank you, Mr. Lindsay, much obleeged.  I shall read that copy for your sake, the best of books next to the Bible itself.”

After Mr. Lindsay had gone, the Deacon looked at the back of the book.  “Scott’s Works, Vol.  IX.”  He opened it at hazard, and happened to fall on a well-known page, from which he began reading aloud, slowly,

    “When Izrul, of the Lord beloved,
     Out of the land of bondage came.”

The whole hymn pleased the grave Deacon.  He had never seen this work of the author of the Commentary.  No matter; anything that such a good man wrote must be good reading, and he would save it up for Sunday.  The consequence of this was, that, when the Rev. Mr. Stoker stopped in on his way to meeting on the “Sabbath,” he turned white with horror at the spectacle of the senior Deacon of his church sitting, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, absorbed in the pages of “Ivanhoe,” which he found enormously interesting; but, so far as he had yet read, not occupied with religious matters so much as he had expected.

Myrtle had no explanation to give of her nervous attack.  Mr. Bradshaw called the day after the party, but did not see her.  He met her walking, and thought she seemed a little more distant than common.  That would never do.  He called again at The Poplars a few days afterwards, and was met in the entry by Miss Cynthia, with whom he had a long conversation on matters involving Myrtle’s interests and their own.

CHAPTER XXI.

Madness?

Mr. Clement Lindsay returned to the city and his usual labors in a state of strange mental agitation.  He had received an impression for which he was unprepared.  He had seen for the second time a young girl whom, for the peace of his own mind, and for the happiness of others, he should never again have looked upon until Time had taught their young hearts the lesson which all hearts must learn, sooner or later.