The early train, at which he had grumbled in July, started now before daylight, and he called himself a fool, as he took his place in the cold, smoky car, for making the journey at all. Roy had left his affianced to his guardianship, and her action at this juncture might be fraught with important consequences to her and to Roy himself. He could allay Mr. Kirke's scruples, if he had any, relative to his daughter's acceptance of Mrs. Baxter's pressing offer of hospitality and chaperonage, better in five minutes' talk than by twenty written pages. He was anxious Jessie should pay the visit. She had taken a strong hold of his fancy, and he could study her to advantage while she was her cousin's guest; be her cavalier wherever she went, by virtue of the authority vested in him by her absent betrothed. Hamilton was dull this season—not a woman in it whom he had not read from preface to "Finis"—and his energies were chafing for lack of exercise in his high vocation. The prospect of Jessie's coming was very tempting. It would be a good thing for her, too. She bemoaned her inability to procure in Beechdale the tuition in music and German she needed to qualify her to fill worthily the station to which Roy had called her. She could have the best masters in the former art in Hamilton, and he would become her German teacher himself. The lessons would prevent him from rusting in a language once familiar to him as his own, and he would enjoy guiding her eager mind through the rich storehouses of literature a knowledge of German would unlock for her. Then he waxed benevolent, and dwelt upon the comfort and pleasure Mrs. Baxter would derive from the society of her young friend. The Lady President was a born patroness. The introduction of the sparkling luminary he was sure Jessie would become in the Hamiltonian firmament, would be with her a work of love and pride. She would spare no pains to make the novice's sojourn in her abode delightful to all parties interested in it.
Notwithstanding which considerations, he wrote himself down an ass for taking the trouble of an eight hours' ride into the country at this gloomy season, to accomplish that which, after all, might have been settled by letter. Breakfast by candle-light, a hard run through muddy streets to catch the train, a seat in a damp, close-smelling car, chilled, rather than warmed, by a stove full of green wood, were sorry tonics for strengthening temper and spirits for the duties of a new day. It was near noon before Orrin reassured his dubious judgment that he had acted wisely for himself, and, as secondary and third-rate considerations, for the Kirkes and Mrs. Baxter, by this flying visit to the parsonage. The lever that commenced the work of elevating his self-esteem from the slough of doubt was not the anticipation of Jessie's social and mental improvement, or Mrs. Baxter's gratification. It was the thought how the light imprisoned in Eunice Kirke's berylline eyes would break up to the surface in the tawny glints he had seen, at infrequent intervals, dash their placid darkness; how her slow, bright smile would greet his unexpected appearance and applaud his vivacious sallies; the sweet monotone many a queen of fashion would give her fairest jewel to imitate successfully, reply to his questioning. He would have questions to put. This was a studious autumn with the sisters. If Roy and Jessie had arranged a schedule of history, ancient and modern, French, and general reading for the latter, Orrin had marked passages for Eunice's consideration in divers books they had examined together; sent down Carlyle, Emerson, and Macaulay, with a thick roll of duets, sonatas, and études, and the whole of Mozart's Twelfth Mass, after his return to town. He had taken extraordinary pains to ascertain her tastes, and displayed his usual tact in ministering to these. Her interest in
