"You mustn’t get blue," he said, consolingly; "and yet how can you well help it, here almost by yourself, with your mother away under such sad circumstances?" "Your own mother was not quite well recently," Virginia said, considerately. "I hope she is no worse." "Oh, she’s on her feet again," he laughed, "as lively as a cricket, moving about bossing that big place." "Why, I thought, seeing you back so—so soon," the girl stammered; "I thought that you had perhaps heard—" "That she was sick again? Oh no!" he exclaimed, and then he saw her drift and paused, and, flushed and embarrassed, sat staring at the floor. "You didn’t—surely you didn’t come all the way here to—to tell me about my mother!" Virginia cried, "when you have important work to do down there?" There was a moment’s hesitation on his part; then he raised his head and looked frankly into her eyes. "What’s the use of denying it?" he said. "I don’t believe in deception, even in small things. It never does any good. I _did_ have work to do down there, but I couldn’t go on with it, Virginia, while you were here brooding as you are over your mother’s condition. So I stayed at my desk till the north-bound train was ready to pull out. Then I made a break for it, catching the last car as it whizzed past the crossing near the office. The train was delayed on the way up, and after I got to Darley I was afraid I couldn’t get a horse at the stable and get here before you were in bed; but you see I made it. Sam Hicks will blow me up about the lather his mare is in. I haven’t long to stay here, either, for I must get back to Darley to catch the ten-forty. I’ll reach the office about four in the morning, if I can get the conductor to slow up in the Atlanta switch-yard for me to hop off at the crossing." "And you did all that simply to tell me about my mother?" Virginia said. "Why, she could have written." "Yes, but seeing some one right from the spot is more satisfying," he said, with embarrassed lightness. "I wanted to tell you how she was, and I’m glad, whether you are or not." "I’m glad to hear from her," said Virginia. "It is only because I did not want to put you to so much trouble." "Don’t bother about that, Virginia. I’d gladly do it every night in the week to keep you from worrying. Do you remember the day, long ago, that I came to you down at the creek and told you I was dissatisfied with things here, and was going away off to begin the battle of life in earnest?" "Yes, I remember," Virginia answered, almost oblivious of the clinging, invisible current which seemed to be sweeping them together. He drew a deep breath, as if to take in courage for what he had to say, and then went on: