The southern
trades were whipping the waves of the distant bay and harbor into yeasty
crests. Sheets of rain swept the sidewalks with the regularity of a
fusillade, against which a few pedestrians struggled with flapping
waterproofs and slanting umbrellas. He could look along the deserted
length of Montgomery Street to the heights of Telegraph Hill and its
long-disused semaphore. It seemed lonelier to him than the mile-long
sweep of Heavy Tree Hill, writhing against the mountain wind and
its aeolian song. He had never felt so lonely THERE. In his rigid
self-examination he thought Kitty right in protesting against the
effect of his youthfulness and optimism. Yet he was also right in being
himself. There is an egoism in the highest simplicity; and Barker, while
willing to believe in others' methods, never abandoned his own aims.
He was right in loving Kitty as he did; he knew that she was better and
more lovable than she could believe herself to be; but he was willing to
believe it pained and discomposed her if he showed it before company.
He would not have her change even this peculiarity--it was part of
herself--no more than he would have changed himself. And behind what he
had conceived was her clear, practical common sense, all this time had
been her belief that she had deceived her father! Poor dear, dear Kitty!
And she had suffered because stupid people had conceived that her father
had led him away in selfish speculations.
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