Zoe was near
him, laughing at his half-drunken attempts to manage the instrument.
Douglas looked up. A quick smile shot across his face. He glanced into
my eyes in a searching manner which mystified me and sent a sudden
thrill through me. What was he thinking? Surely he knew of my relation
to Zoe. I caught out of his expression the prejudice of the time against
the social equality that I was maintaining in standing by Zoe and having
her with me. I had not shirked my heritage. Perhaps Douglas admired me
too much to speak what was in his mind; or perhaps he was too much of
the politician to trench upon ground so personal. At all events, we
were silent for a moment. And then Douglas called to Lamborn. It was
time to go. Lamborn rose to his feet, swaying a little as he did so, and
came to where we sat. He looked me over in a scrutinizing way, then shot
forth his hand for me to take it. It was an awkward act and out of
place! Yet I felt compelled to give him my hand. And with good-bys they
bestrode their horses and were gone. I began to have ominous
reflections.
I went to the hut and asked Zoe what Lamborn had been saying to her. She
laughed and seemed reluctant to tell me. I pressed her then; and she
said that he had followed her through the house and tried to kiss her;
that she had come around to the front door so as to be in sight of
Douglas and me; then that Lamborn had taken the fiddle down and had
begun to play it.
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