A husband? Yes! He
remembered, with a sudden start, what Pendleton had said to him.
Good Heavens! Had Pendleton that idea in his mind? And yet--it
seemed the only solution.
A knock at his door was followed by the appearance of Mr. Woods.
Mr. Hathaway's portmanteau had come, and Mrs. Woods had sent a
message, saying that in view of the limited time that Mr. Hathaway
would have with his ward, Mrs. Woods would forego her right to keep
him at her side at dinner, and yield her place to Yerba. Paul
thanked him with a grave inward smile. What if he made his
dramatic disclosure to her confidentially over the soup and fish?
Yet, in his constantly recurring conviction of the girl's
independence, he made no doubt she would have met his brutality
with unflinching pride and self-possession. He began to dress
slowly, at times almost forgetting himself in a new kind of
pleasant apathy, which he attributed to the odor of the flowers,
and the softer hush of twilight that had come on with the dying
away of the trade winds, and the restful spice of the bay-trees
near his window. He presently found himself not so much thinking
of Yerba as of SEEING her. A picture of her in the summer-house
caressing her cheek with the roses seemed to stand out from the
shadows of the blank wall opposite him.
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