CONFIDENCE
"Well," said Gordon, "in spite of that enviable combination, I am not happy."
"I thought you seemed pensive!" Bernard exclaimed. "It's you, then, who feel differently."
Gordon gave a sigh.
"To say that is to say too much."
"What shall we say, then?" his companion asked kindly.
Gordon stopped again; he stood there looking up at a certain particularly lustrous star which twinkled—the night was cloudy—in an open patch of sky, and the vague brightness shone down on his honest and serious visage.
"I don't understand her," he said.
"Oh, I'll say that with you any day!" cried Bernard. "I can't help you there."
"You must help me"; and Gordon Wright deserted his star. "You must keep me in good humour."
"Please to walk on, then. I don't in the least pity you; she is very charming with you."
"True enough; but insisting on that is not the way to keep me in good humour when I feel as I do."
"How is it you feel?"
"Puzzled to death—bewildered—depressed!"
This was but the beginning of Gordon Wright's list; he went on to say that though he "thought as highly" of Miss Vivian as he had ever done, he felt less at his ease with her than in the first weeks of their acquaintance, and this condition made him uncomfortable and unhappy.
"I don't know what's the matter," said poor Gordon. "I don't know what has come between us. It isn't her fault—I don't make her responsible for it. I began to notice it about a fortnight ago—before you came; shortly after that talk I had with her that I have just described to you. Her manner
61
