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Thus John Wingfield, Sr. had his answer; thus the processes of fate that Dr. Bennington had said were in the younger man had worked out their end. Under the spur of a sudden, powerful resolution, the father withdrew. In the living-room he met Jasper Ewold. The two men paused, facing each other. They were alone with the frank, daring features from Velasquez's brush and with the "I give!

As he will hereafter be brought more closely to our notice, it is now only necessary to add that he had just been presented to the vicarage of St. Ewold by Dr. Grantly, in whose gift as archdeacon the living lay. St. Ewold is a parish lying just without the city of Barchester.

He tried to retrieve his exclamation in an effort at the forensic: "The amour propre of any American is hurt by the thought that he must go to a private gallery to see a Velasquez in the greatest city of the land!" But it was a lame explanation. Clearly, some old antipathy had been aroused in Jasper Ewold; and it made him hesitate to enter the big red brick house on the corner.

"You know only the Jasper Ewold who has been mellowed by time," he began. "His scholarship was a bond of companionship for you in the isolation of a small community. I know him as boy and young man. He was very precocious. At the age of eight, as I remember, he could read his Caesar. You will appreciate what that meant in a New England town that he was somewhat spoiled by admiration.

I knew that my duty to you and your duty to yourself was to see you become strong, and for your sake you must not return until you were strong. "Now, as for the scene in the drawing-room the other day: I could not forget what Jasper Ewold had said of me. That was one thing.

Jasper Ewold mentioned them briefly, as if he would not ask a guest to share the shadows which they brought to his brow. "The honey of our prosperity brings us something besides the bees. It brings those who would share the honey without work," said he. "It brings the Bill Lang hive and Pete Leddy." At the mention of the name, Jack's and Mary's glances met.

But there was no other sign of emotion, except his half affirmative interjections, with a confessional's encouragement to empty the mind of its every affliction. "Why were my mother and myself always in exile? What was this barrier between you and her? Why was it that I never saw you? Why this bitterness of Jasper Ewold against you? Why should that bitterness be turned against me?

"P.D.!" said her father, with the disappointment of one tempted by a good morsel which he finds tasteless. "There he seems to have descended to alphabetic commonplace. No imagery in that!" "He is a slow, reliable pony," put in Mary, "without the Q." "Pretty Damn, without the Quick! Oh, I know slang!" Jasper Ewold burst into laughter.

"Yes, Sir Chaps, I shall talk; otherwise, why was man given a tongue in his head and ideas?" Refusal was out of the question. Accordingly, Firio was sent on to make camp alone. "Now, Sir Chaps, now, Mr. " began Jasper Ewold, pausing blankly. "Why, Mary, you have not given me his city directory name!" "Mr. " and Mary blushed.

The occasional giant cactus in the open beyond the village outskirts ceased to be spectral. For the first time Mary Ewold was in the presence of the wonder of daybreak on the desert without watching for the harbinger of gold in the V of the pass, with its revelation of a dome of blue where unfathomable space had been.