"Mr. Yocomb, your words torture me," I cried. "It is not my imagination then. Can she love that man?" "Well, she has a queer way of showing it; but it is one of those things that an outsider can't meddle with." I was moody and silent the rest of the day, and Mr. Yocomb had the tact to leave me much to myself; but I was not under the necessity of acting my poor farce before him. The evening was quite well advanced when we reached the farmhouse; but Mrs. Yocomb had a royal supper for us, and she said every one had insisted on waiting till we returned. Mr. Hearn had quite recovered his complacency, and I gathered from this fact that Miss Warren had been very devoted. Such was his usual aspect when everything was pleasing to him. But she who had added so much to his life had seemingly drained her own, for she looked so pale and thin that my heart ached. There were dark lines under her eyes, and she appeared exceedingly wearied, as if the day had been one long effort. "She can't love him," I thought. "It's impossible. Confound him! he's the blindest man of us all. Oh that I had her insight, that I might unravel this snarl at once, for it would kill me to see her looking like that much longer. What's the use of my going away? I've been away all day; she has had the light of his smiling countenance uninterruptedly, and see how worn she is. Can it be that my hateful words hurt her, and that she is grieving about me only? It's impossible. Unselfish regard for another could not go so far if her own heart was at rest. She is doing her best to laugh and talk and to seem cheerful, but her acting now is poorer than mine ever was. She is tired out; she seems like a soldier who is fighting mechanically after spirit, courage, and strength are gone." Mr. Hearn informed Mr. Yocomb that important business would require his presence in New York for a few days. "It's an enterprise that involves immense interests on both sides of the ocean, and there's to be quite a gathering of capitalists. Your paper will be full of it before very long, Mr. Morton." "I'm always glad to hear of any grist for our mill," I said. "Mrs. Yocomb, please excuse me. I'm selfish enough to prefer the cool piazza." "But thee hasn't eaten anything." "Oh, yes, I have, and I made a huge dinner," I replied carelessly, and sauntered out and lighted a cigar. Instead of coming out on the piazza, as I hoped, Miss Warren bade Mr. Hearn good-night in the hall, and, pleading fatigue, went to her room. She was down to see him off in the morning, and at his request accompanied him to the depot. I was reading on the piazza when she returned, and I hastened to assist her from the rockaway. "Miss Warren," I exclaimed, in deep solicitude, "this long, hot ride has been too much for you." "Perhaps it has," she replied briefly, without meeting my eyes. "I'll go and rest." She pleaded a headache, and did not come down to dinner. Mrs. Yocomb returned from her room with a troubled face.