My walk down to the gate was full of a certain uneasy apprehension. I
had made no secret of my intentions at the supper-table, and for the
reason that neither of the brothers had ventured upon any reply to my
remark, I expected one, if not both, of them to join me on the way. But
I reached the last turn of the path without meeting any one, and I was
congratulating myself upon the prospect of having an hour of perfect
freedom, when I detected, leaning on the gate before me, the firm,
well-knit figure of a man.
As the two Pollards were more or less alike in form, I could not
distinguish at first glance which of the brothers it was. I therefore
faltered back a step, and was indeed debating whether I should not give
up my project and return to the house, when I saw the gentleman's head
turn, and realized that it was too late to retreat. I therefore
advanced with as much calmness as I could assume, determined not to
vary my conduct, no matter which of the brothers it should turn out to
be. But, to my great surprise, the gentleman before me gave me no
opportunity to test my resolution. No sooner did he perceive me than he
made a hurried gesture that I did not at that moment understand; and,
just lifting his hat in courteous farewell, vanished from my sight in
the thick bushes which at that place encumbered the grounds.
"It was Dwight; it was Guy," I alternately explained to myself, and
knew not whether it would give me most relief to find myself shunned by
the one or the other. My final conclusion, that I wished to have
nothing further to do with either of them, received, notwithstanding, a
rude shock when I arrived at the gate-post. For there, on its broad
top, lay a magnificent blossom, the choicest fruit of the hot-house,
and it was to beg my acceptance of this that the gentleman had made the
peculiar gesture I had noticed--an act which, if it came from Dwight,
certainly possessed a significance which I was not yet ready to ignore;
while, if it proceeded from his cold and crafty brother--But I would
not allow myself to dwell upon that possibility. The flower must be
mine, and if afterwards I found that it was to Guy I owed its
possession, it would be time enough then for me to determine what to
do. So I took the gorgeous blossom off the post and was speeding away
down the street, when I was suddenly stopped by the thought that only
Guy would have the egotism to bestow a gift upon me in this way; that
Dwight, if he had wished to present it at all, would have done so with
his own hand, and not left it lying on a gate-post with the assurance
it would be gathered up by the fortunate recipient of his favor.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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