He fell back, choking, in Joe’s arms, and the physician bent over him, but Eskew was not gone, and Ariel, upon the other side of the room, could hear him whispering again for the restorative.  She brought it, and when he had taken it, went quickly out-of-doors to the side yard.

She sat upon a workman’s bench under the big trees, hidden from the street shrubbery, and breathing deeply of the shaded air, began to cry quietly.  Through the windows came the quavering voice of the old man, lifted again, insistent, a little querulous, but determined.  Responses sounded, intermittently, from the Colonel, from Peter, and from Buckalew, and now and then a sorrowful, yet almost humorous, protest from Joe; and so she made out that the veteran swore his three comrades to friendship with Joseph Louden, to lend him their countenance in all matters, to stand by him in weal and woe, to speak only good of him and defend him in the town of Canaan.  Thus did Eskew Arp on the verge of parting this life render justice.

The gate clicked, and Ariel saw Eugene approaching through the shrubbery.  One of his hands was bandaged, a thin strip of court-plaster crossed his forehead from his left eyebrow to his hair, and his thin and agitated face showed several light scratches.

“I saw you come out,” he said.  “I’ve been waiting to speak to you.”

“The doctor told us to let him have his way in whatever he might ask.”  Ariel wiped her eyes.  “I’m afraid that means—­”

“I didn’t come to talk about Eskew Arp,” interrupted Eugene.  “I’m not laboring under any anxiety about him.  You needn’t be afraid; he’s too sour to accept his conge so readily.”

“Please lower your voice,” she said, rising quickly and moving away from him toward the house; but, as he followed, insisting sharply that he must speak with her, she walked out of ear-shot of the windows, and stopping, turned toward him.

“Very well,” she said.  “Is it a message from Mamie?”

At this he faltered and hung fire.

“Have you been to see her?” she continued.

“I am anxious to know if her goodness and bravery caused her any—­any discomfort at home.”

“You may set your mind at rest about that,” returned Eugene.  “I was there when the Judge came home to dinner.  I suppose you fear he may have been rough with her for taking my step-brother into the carriage.  He was not.  On the contrary, he spoke very quietly to her, and went on out toward the stables.  But I haven’t come to you to talk of Judge Pike, either!”

“No,” said Ariel.  “I don’t care particularly to hear of him, but of Mamie.”

“Nor of her, either!” he broke out.  “I want to talk of you!”

There was not mistaking him; no possibility of misunderstanding the real passion that shook him, and her startled eyes betrayed her comprehension.

“Yes, I see you understand,” he cried, bitterly.  “That’s because you’ve seen others the same way.  God help me,” he went on, striking his forehead with his open hand, “that young fool of a Bradbury told me you refused him only yesterday!  He was proud of even rejection from you!  And there’s Norbert—­and half a dozen others, perhaps, already, since you’ve been here.”  He flung out his arms in ludicrous, savage despair.  “And here am I—­”