After seeing Cornelia off, Professor Valeyon bethought himself of Abbie;
she must be wondering what had become of her late boarder, and he
resolved to stop at the house, and give her an account of the accident.
He had got some distance beyond the boarding-house when the idea
occurred to him. Just as he was about to head Dolly round in the
opposite direction, he discerned a figure beyond, beneath an umbrella,
which looked very much like the person he was seeking. He drove on, and
in a few minutes overtook her.
"Going up to the Parsonage?" cried the old gentleman, getting gallantly
down into the mud. "Here, jump up into-the wagon; I want to tell you
about your--boarder."
"He--there's nothing the matter with him, of course?" said Abbie, with a
short laugh. She was looking very pale, and as if she had not slept much
of late. "No, don't drive mo to the Parsonage; take me home, if you
please, Professor Valeyon. Well, about Mr. Bressant?"
"Doing very well now; he was pretty seriously hurt." And he went on to
give a short account of what had happened, which Abbie did not interrupt
by word or gesture; she sat with her head bent, and her lips working
against each other.
"It's quite certain he'll recover?" she asked, when all was told.
"As certain," quoth the professor, non-committally, "as any thing in
surgery can be."
"It wouldn't be safe to move him, of course?"
"Not till he's a good deal better; you see, the collar-bone--"
"Yes, I'll take your word for it," said Abbie, very pale. "Well, I'm
glad he's in such good hands. If I had him he wouldn't be comfortable; I
should be sure to do him more harm than good; it's better as it is; much
better."
She spoke in an inward tone, looking vacantly out into the rain, and
fumbling with the handle of her umbrella.
"But you'll come up and see him once in a while, at the Parsonage?"
Abbie shook her head. "No, no, Professor Valeyon; why should I? Do you
suppose he wants to see me? do you suppose he's thought of me once since
he went away? It would be a strange thing for an educated, intellectual,
wealthy young man like him to do, wouldn't it?" asked Abbie, with a
smile.
The professor's eyes met hers for a moment, and then she looked away.
Presently she spoke again: "I'd a great deal rather leave this world as I've lived in it, for the
last twenty years and more, than run any risk of making a blunder. I
don't want things to change, Professor Valeyon; but if they do, it
musn't be through any act of mine, or yours either."
By this time they had arrived at the boarding-house; and the old
gentleman, having seen Abbie safely in to the door, drove homeward,
frowning all the way, and at intervals shaking his head slowly. When he
got home, he shut himself into his study, and there paced restlessly
backward and forward, and stared out of the window across the valley.
That open spot on the hill-top seemed to afford little or no
enlightenment or satisfaction; and when he sat down to his solitary
dinner, the frown had not yet cleared away.