Horner to the carriage. After she had seated herself, I lingered at the door, exchanging sober commonplaces with the reverend gentleman. At last Mrs. Hicks followed us, leaning on Bingham's arm.
"Margaret," she said, "Mr. Bingham and I are going to stay here awhile. Mr. Bingham will walk home with me. I 'm very much obliged to you, Mr. Bland," she added, turning to the minister and extending her hand.
I bestowed upon my friend a glance which I felt to be half interrogative and half sympathetic. He gave me his hand, and answered the benediction by its pressure, while he answered the inquiry by his words. "If you are still disposed to go back to town this afternoon," he said, "you had better not wait for me. I may not have time to catch the boat."
I of course made no scruple of returning immediately to the city. Some ten days elapsed before I again saw Bingham; but I found my attention so deeply engrossed with work, that I scarcely measured the interval. At last, one morning, he came into my office.
"I take for granted," I said, "that you have not been all this time at B——."
"No; I've been on my travels. I came to town the day after you came. I found at my rooms a letter from a lawyer in Baltimore, proposing the sale of some of my property there, and I seized upon it as an excuse for making a journey to that city. I felt the need of movement, of action of some kind. But when I reached Baltimore, I did n't even go to see my correspondent. I pushed on to Washington, walked about for thirty-six hours, and came home."
He had placed his arm on my desk, and stood supporting his head on his hand, with a look of great physical exhaustion.
"You look very tired," said I.
"I have n't slept," said he. "I had such a talk with that woman!"
"I 'm sorry that you should have felt the worse for it."
"I feel both the worse and the better. She talked about the child."
"It 's well for her," said I, "that she was able to do it."
"She was n't able, strictly speaking. She began calmly enough, but she very soon broke down."
"Did you see her again?"
"I called upon her the next day, to tell her that I was going to town, and to ask if I could be useful to her. But she seems to stand in perfect isolation. She assured me that she was in want of nothing."
"What sort of a woman does she seem to be, taking her in herself?"
"Bless your soul! I can't take her in herself!" cried Bingham, with some vehemence. "And yet, stay," he added; "she 's a very pleasing woman."
"She 's very pretty."
"Yes; she 's very pretty. In years, she 's little more than a young girl. In her ideas, she 's one of 'the people.'"
"It seems to me," said I, "that the frankness of her conduct toward you is very much to her credit.
"It does n't offend you, then?"
"Offend me? It gratifies me beyond measure."
"I think that, if you had seen her as I have seen her, it would interest you deeply. I 'm at a loss to determine whether it 's the result of great simplicity or great sagacity. Of course, it 's absurd to suppose that, ten days ago, it could have been the result of anything but a beautiful impulse. I think that to-morrow I shall again go down to B——."
I allowed Bingham time to have made his visit and to have brought me an account of his further impressions; but as three days went by without his reappearance, I called at his lodgings. He was still out of town. The fifth day, however, brought him again to my office.
"I 've been at B—— constantly," he said, "and I 've had several interviews with our friend."
"Well; how fares it?"
"It fares well. I 'm forcibly struck with her good sense. In matters of mind—in matters of soul, I may say—she has the touch of an angel, or
