"It is no use," I said, "I can't tell you what those reasons were."I turned as I said it.I did not care to see her expression change.I knew what she must be thinking and I had no desire to read the thought in her eyes.I stood there, waiting for her to leave in disgust.
"I can't tell you," I repeated, stubbornly.
"Very well." Her tone was as coldly indifferent as I had anticipated."Was that all you wished to say to me, Mr.Paine?""Miss Colton, I should like to explain if I could.But I cannot.""Pray don't trouble yourself.I assure you I had no intentions of asking for your--reasons.Good afternoon."I heard her skirts brush the leaves at the border of the path.She was going; and the contemptuous slur at my "reasons" proved that she did not believe them existent.She believed me to be a liar.
"Miss Colton," I said, sharply; "wait."
She kept on.
"Wait," I said again."Listen to me."
She seemed to hesitate and then turned her head.
"I am listening," she said."What is it?""You have no right to disbelieve me."
"I disbelieve you? Why should you think I disbelieve you? I am not sufficiently interested to believe or disbelieve, I assure you.""But you do.You judge me--"
"_I_ judge you! You flatter yourself, Mr.Paine.""But you do.You apologized just now for judging me without a hearing the other day.You acknowledged that you should not have done it.You are doing the same thing now.""I apologized for presuming to offer advice to a stranger.I did not apologize for the advice itself.I think it good.I do not care to argue the matter further.""You are not asked to argue.But your sneer at my reasons proves that you believe that I have none and am merely trying to justify myself with trumped up and lying excuses.You are wrong, and since you presumed to judge me then you must listen to me now.I have--or had--reasons for living as I have done, for being the idler and good-for-nothing you believe me to be.I can't tell you what they are; I can tell no one.But I do ask you to believe that I have them, that they are real, and that my being what you termed ambitionless and a country loafer is not my condition from choice.
It is my right to insist upon your believing that.Do you believe it?"At last I had made an impression.My earnestness seemed to have shaken her contemptuous indifference.She looked at me steadily, frowning a little, but regarding me less as if I were a clod and more and more as if I were the puzzle she had once declared me to be.I did not shun her look now, but met it eye to eye.
"Do you believe me?" I demanded.
Slowly her frown was disappearing.
"Do you believe me?" I said, again."You must.""Must?"
"Yes, you must.I shall make you.If not now, at some other time.
You must believe me, Miss Colton."
The frown disappeared altogether and she smiled.
"If you order me to I suppose I must," she said, with a shrug of mock resignation."I should have learned by this time that it is useless to say no when you say yes, Mr.Paine.""But do you?"
She turned altogether and faced me.
"I am very glad to believe you," she said, with simple directness.
I stammered a "Thank you" and was silent.I dared not trust myself to speak at the moment.Somehow the sincerity of her words moved me far more than their trifling import warranted.She had declared her belief that I was not a liar, that was all; and yet I stood there fighting down all sorts of ridiculous emotions.The situation was decidedly strained, but, as usual, she saved it.
"It seems to me," she said, with the twinkle which I had learned to recognize as a forerunner of mischief on her part, "that you are inclined to make mountains out of mole-hills, Mr.Paine.Was there any need to be quite so fiercely tragic? And, besides, I think that even now you have not told the whole truth.""The whole truth? Why, Miss Colton, I have just explained that--""Oh, not that truth! Your mysterious 'reasons' are not my affair.
And I have told you that I was willing to take those on trust.But you have not been quite truthful in another particular.You intimated that you were an idler.I have been given to understand that you are far from being an idler just now."I was relieved."Oh, I see!" I exclaimed."You mean--some one has told you of my employment at the bank.""A number of persons have told me.Surely you did not expect to keep THAT a secret--in Denboro?""Well, scarcely," I admitted, with a laugh."That was known almost before I was sure of it myself.You should have seen Eldredge's face when I announced my intention.And Lute--Mrs.Rogers'
husband--hasn't completely recovered yet.The sight of me, actually trying to earn a living, was too much for him.You see what a miracle worker you are, Miss Colton.""Did you really accept the position simply because of what I said to you?""Yes.The chance had been offered me before, but it was your frankness that shocked me into taking it.""Not really? You are joking."
"No, I'm not.You are responsible.Are you sorry?"Her answer was a question.
"Are you?" she asked.
"No.At first it seemed ridiculous and strange, even to myself;but now I like the work.It is like old times.""Old times?"
I was forgetting myself again; talking too much was a dangerous train--for me.I laughed, with pretended carelessness.
"Why, yes; I was employed in a bank at one time.I think I told you that.Have you been motoring much of late, Miss Colton?""Yes.Tell me, please: You really like your work?""Yes, I do."
"Then I will answer your question.I am not a bit sorry.I am glad I was impertinent and intrusive, especially now that I have apologized and you have accepted the apology.I am very glad Itold you you should do something worth while.""Even if it were nothing more than to follow Thoph Newcomb's example and sell fish.""Yes," laughingly, "even that.I WAS impertinent, wasn't I! Idon't wonder you were offended."
