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The plot which Morrell had first suggested idly and as sort of a joke, but which later he had entered into with growing belief, was quite perfect in all details but one: he assumed that Keith had accompanied Durkee's expedition, and was sure that he had seen the young lawyer off. As a matter of fact, Keith had been recalled.
"You thought I cared for Miss Keith?" Ephraim's tone was a stronger negative than any words could have been. "Yes, I cared for her as your friend, and as a woman in trouble, and a woman of fine character: but if you fancied I wished to make her my wife, you were never more mistaken. No, Cary; I fixed on somebody else for that, a long while ago before I ever saw Miss Keith.
Keith, noticing this, felt somewhat abashed, when he realized how he must look. But it was not fear or disgust which caused the woman to start. It was the picturesque figure he presented by the dim candle light. "What a subject for a sketch," she thought. "I wish I had my pencil and paper."
You have seen her portrait." Greythorpe made a sign of assent. He knew the picture of the woman with the proud, determined face. "And the other side? Was the strain equally virile?" he asked. "You shall judge," said Challoner. "You and Margaret Keith are the only people to whom I have ever spoken freely of these things. I am sure of your discretion and sympathy."
McDougall, gathering up his papers from the table assigned to counsel, made some facetious remark. Keith did not reply. McDougall looked at him sharply, and as he went out he remarked to Casey: "Keith takes this hard." "He does!" cried Casey, genuinely astonished.
Keith's greeting was returned, as it struck him, somewhat coldly by most of them. Only two of the directors shook hands with him. It was a meeting which Keith never forgot. He soon found that he had need of all of his self-control. He was cross-examined by Mr. Kestrel. It was evident that it was believed that he had wasted their money, if he had not done worse.
How noble in reason! how infinite in faculty!... And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?" Nevertheless this lyric egoism has certain moods in which the individual identifies himself with his family or tribe: "O Keith of Ravelstone, The sorrows of thy line!" School and college songs are often, in reality, tribal lyrics.
She felt the dinghy yield as she stepped from it, and she seemed for one instant to be hanging precariously in space above the terrifying waters. Then she was at the top of the ladder, ready for Keith's warning shout about the descent to the deck. She jumped down. She was aboard the yacht; and as she glanced around Keith was upon the deck beside her, catching her arm.
Ambrose Catterall seemed to think it his duty to make fun for everybody, and he laughed and joked and chattered away finely. I asked where old Mr Catterall was. "Oh, in bed with a headache," laughed Ambrose, "like everybody else this morning." "Speak for yourself," said Mr Keith. "I have not one." "Well, mine's going," returned Ambrose, gaily. "A cup of Mrs Kezia's capital tea will finish it off."
Such estimates of himself were not wholly checked by an incident that occurred within the school precincts early in the first term. There was another boy in the same class named Bauer, who seemed the living counterpart of Keith just as undersized and lonely and nervous. From the first there was a hostile tension between those two, and soon it came to open war.
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