A Red Wallflower

Mrs. Dallas was greatly at a loss, and growing more and more uneasy. Pitt went on in such a quiet, meditative way, not asking help of her, and, she fancied, not intending to ask it of anybody. Suddenly, however, he lifted his head and turned himself far enough round to enable him to look in her face.

'Mother,' said he, 'what do you think those words mean in one of the psalms, – "Thou hast made me exceeding glad with thy countenance"?'

'Are they in the Psalms? I do not know.'

'You have read them a thousand times! In the psalter translation the wording is a little different, but it comes to the same thing.'

'I never knew what they meant, my boy. There are a great many things in the Bible that we cannot understand.'

'But is this one of them? "Exceeding glad —with thy countenance."

David knew what he meant.'

'The Psalmist was inspired. Of course he understood a great many things which we do not.'

'We ought to understand some things that he did not, I should think. But this is a bit of personal experience – not abstruse teaching. David was "exceeding glad" – and what made him glad? that I want to know.'

Pitt's thoughts were busy with the innocent letter he had once received, in which a young and unlearned girl had given precisely the same testimony as the inspired royal singer. Precisely the same. And surely what Esther had found, another could find, and he might find. But while he was musing, Mrs. Dallas grew more and more uneasy. She knew better than to try the force of persuasion upon her son. It would not avail; and Mrs. Dallas was a proud woman, too proud to ask what would not be granted, or to resist forcefully what she might not resist successfully. She never withstood her husband's plans, or asked him to change them, except in cases when she knew her opposition could be made effective; so it did not at all follow that she was pleased where she made no effort to hinder. It was the same in the case of her son, though rarely proved until now. In the consciousness of her want of power she was tempted to be a little vexed.

'My dear,' she said, 'what you say sounds to me very like Methodist talk! They say the Methodists are spreading dreadfully.'

Pitt was silent, and then made a departure.

'How often I have wanted just the touch of these hands!' he said, giving those he held a little squeeze. 'Mother, there is nothing in all the world like them.'

CHAPTER XXIV

DISAPPOINTMENT

It was not till the little family were seated at the dinner-table, that

Pitt alluded to the object of his morning ramble.

'I went to see Colonel Gainsborough this morning,' he began; 'and to my astonishment found the house shut up. What has become of him?'

'Gone away,' said his father shortly.

'Yes, that is plain; but where is he gone to?'

'New York.'

'New York! What took him away?'

'I believe a desire to put his daughter at school. A very sensible desire.'

'To New York!' Pitt repeated. 'Why did you never mention it, mamma?'

'It never occurred to me to mention it. I did not suppose that the matter was of any great interest to you.'

Mrs. Dallas had said just a word too much. Her last sentence set Pitt to thinking.

'How long have they been gone?' he asked, after a short pause.

'Not long,' said Mr. Dallas carelessly. 'A few months, I believe.'

'A man told me you had bought the place?'

'Yes; it suited me to have it. The land is good, what there is of it.'

'But the house stands empty. What will you do with it?'

'Let it – as soon as anybody wants it.'

'Not much prospect of that, is there?'

'Not just now,' Mr. Dallas said drily.

There was a little pause again, and then Pitt asked, —

'Have you Colonel Gainsborough's address, sir?'

'No.'

'I suppose they have it at the post office.'

'They have not. Colonel Gainsborough was to have sent me his address, when he knew himself what it would be, but he has never done so.'

'Is he living in the city, or out of it.'

'I have explained to you why I am unable to answer that question.'

'Why do you want to know, Pitt?' his mother imprudently asked.

'Because I have got to look them up, mother; and knowing whereabouts they are would be rather a help, you see.'

'You have not got to look them up!' said his father gruffly. 'What business is it of yours? If they were here, it would be all very well for you to pay your respects to the colonel; it would be due; but as it is, there is no obligation.'

'No obligation of civility. There is another, however.'

'What, then?'

'Of friendship, sir.'

'Nonsense. Friendship ought to keep you at home. There is no friendship like that of a man's father and mother. Do you know what a piece of time it would take for you to go to New York to look up a man who lives you do not know where? – what a piece of your vacation?'

'More than I like to think of,' said Pitt; 'but it will have to be done.'

'It will take you two days to get there, and two more days to get back, merely for the journey; and how many do you want to spend in New York?'