There was a sudden silence. The young man with the stern face made no
answer. His head was bent over the revolver. He broke it open, and
spilled the cartridges into his palm. Still he made no answer. When
he raised his head, his eyes were no longer stern, but wistful, and
filled with an inexpressible loneliness.
"No, _I_ am Carey," he said.
The one who had blundered stood helpless, tongue-tied, with no presence
of mind beyond knowing that to explain would offend further.
The other seemed to feel for him more than for himself. In a voice low
and peculiarly appealing, he continued hurriedly.
"He is my doctor," he said. "He is a young man, and he has not had
many advantages--his manner is not--I find we do not get on together.
I have asked them to send me some one else." He stopped suddenly, and
stood unhappily silent. The knowledge that the strangers were
acquainted with his story seemed to rob him of his earlier confidence.
He made an uncertain movement as though to relieve them of his presence.
Miss Forbes stepped toward him eagerly.
"You told me I might wait in the library," she said. "Will you take me
there?"
For a moment the man did not move, but stood looking at the young and
beautiful girl, who, with a smile, hid the compassion in her eyes.
"Will you go?" he asked wistfully.
"Why not?" said the girl.
The young man laughed with pleasure.
"I am unpardonable," he said. "I live so much alone--that I forget."
Like one who, issuing from a close room, encounters the morning air, he
drew a deep, happy breath. "It has been three years since a woman has
been in this house," he said simply. "And I have not even thanked
you," he went on, "nor asked you if you are cold," he cried
remorsefully, "or hungry. How nice it would be if you would say you
are hungry."
The girl walked beside him, laughing lightly, and, as they disappeared
into the greater hall beyond, Winthrop heard her cry: "You never
robbed your own ice-chest? How have you kept from starving? Show me
it, and we'll rob it together."
The voice of their host rang through the empty house with a laugh like
that of an eager, happy child.
"Heavens!" said the owner of the car, "isn't she wonderful!" But
neither the prostrate burglars, nor the servants, intent on strapping
their wrists together, gave him any answer.
As they were finishing the supper filched from the ice-chest, Fred was
brought before them from the kitchen. The blow the burglar had given
him was covered with a piece of cold beef-steak, and the water thrown
on him to revive him was thawing from his leather breeches. Mr. Carey
expressed his gratitude, and rewarded him beyond the avaricious dreams
even of a chauffeur.
As the three trespassers left the house, accompanied by many pails of
water, the girl turned to the lonely figure in the doorway and waved
her hand.
"May we come again?" she called.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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