SEALED LIPS
No one realized more than Percy Johnston that toleration of life
itself was possible to him only because of the world of work that he
found always at hand in connection with his abiding faith and
interest in the upbuilding of Poorland Farm. He had accepted
Adelaide's sweet smile and lack of apparent disapproval with
confidence that he might at least have an opportunity to try to win
her love. As he was permitted at the parting to look for more than
an instant into those alluring eyes, he felt so sure that they
expressed something more than friendship or gratitude for him. He
had felt the more confidence because he thought he knew that she
would not permit him to humiliate himself by asking and failing to
receive from her father permission to write to her, when she could
easily in her own womanly way have discouraged such a thought at
once. Had she not insisted upon driving slowly back to the turn in
the road, and did he not feel the absence of a previous reserve?
Oh, misleading imagination. The will is truly the father of thought
and faith. Percy knew as he parted from Adelaide that he had left
with her the love of heart and mind of one whose life had developed
in him the character which does nothing by halves. His love had
multiplied with the distance as he journeyed westward, with a great
new pleasure which life seemed to hold before him and with a
pardonable confidence in its achievement.
He had written Mr. West a week after his return in a way which would
not fail of understanding if his hopes were justified. The belated
reply which reached him after holidays was accepted as final. His
pride was humiliated and the sweetest dream of his life abruptly
ended. He felt the more helpless and the more deeply wounded because
of Mr. West's reference to his special service in the protection he
had once rendered to Adelaide. It continually reminded him that, as
the highest type of gentleman, he should do nothing that could be
construed as an endeavor to take advantage of the consideration to
which that act might seem to entitle him. Bound and buried in the
deepest dungeon, waiting only for the announcement from his of the
day of his execution. This was his mental attitude as the months
passed and he began to receive an occasional letter from Mr. West,
in each of which he looked for the news of Adelaide's marriage.
In Mrs. Johnston a feeling of hatred had developed for Adelaide. She
was certain that she had marred the happiness of her son. The
heartlessness of a flirt who could trifle with the affection of one
who had a right to assume in her an honor equal to his own deserved
only to be hated with even righteous hatred. She saw the scrawled
note which she knew Percy had not seen, but what did it signify? An
eccentric old lady's penchant for match making? Perhaps she was
even more guilty than the girl in attempting to lead Percy to see in
Adelaide more than he ought. She might even take an old flirt's
delight in the mere number of conquests made by her granddaughter.
Or was the scrawled note slipped into the envelope by a prank-
playing fourteen-year-old brother? In any case was it wise that
Percy should see the note? She could probably do nothing better than
to leave it with the letter. Even if the girl were worthy, Percy
could never hope to win one of her class, whose pride of ancestry is
their bread of life. It might not have been quite so, perhaps, if
Percy had only selected some more respected profession. Why should
not he have become a college professor?