'Silver,' he whispered, bending over her, 'do you love
me?'
'Yes,' she answered in her simple, unconscious way, 'you know I do,
Jarvis.'
No color deepened in her fair face under his ardent gaze; and, after a
moment, he released her, almost roughly. The next day he told old Fog
that he was going.
'Where.'
'Somewhere, this time. I've had enough of Nowhere.'
'Why do you go?'
'Do you want the plain truth, old man? Here it is, then; I am growing
too fond of that girl,--a little more and I shall not be able to leave
her.'
'Then stay; she loves you.'
'A child's love.'
'She will develop--'
'Not into my wife if I know myself,' said Waring, curtly.
Old Fog sat silent a moment. 'Is she not lovely and good?' he said in
a low voice.
'She is; but she is your daughter as well.'
'She is not.'
'She is not! What then?'.
'I--I do not know; I found her, a baby, by the wayside.'
'A foundling! So much the better, that is even a step lower,' said the
younger man, laughing roughly. And the other crept away as though he
had been struck.
Waring set about his preparations. This time Silver did not suspect
his purpose. She had passed out of the quick, intuitive watchfulness
of childhood.
Pages:
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71