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Updated: May 23, 2025
All this Silverthorn must have felt to the full, judging from the tender way in which he held the flowers, even while absorbed in talk with his friend. His fingers seemed conscious that they were touching the clue to a finer life. In Vibbard's warm, tough fist, the lilacs would have faded within ten minutes.
A suppressed elation at his good luck made him tingle from top to toe; and, to tell the truth, he did not feel much interest in Vibbard's remaining. "I must be off to-morrow," said his friend. "I suppose I can stay here to-night?" "Of course." "I must call on Ida, before I go." Silverthorn's brow darkened.
But his sagacious instincts moved all the more effectively for being masked, and he made some astonishing strokes. It began to seem as if other men around him who lost, were controlled by some deadly attraction which forced them to throw their success under Vibbard's feet. His car rolled on over them. Everything yielded him a pecuniary return.
Suddenly, one day, at the close of Vibbard's six years' absence, Silverthorn came running from the mill during working-hours, and burst into the superintendent's cottage with an open letter in his hand, calling aloud for Ida. "He is coming! He is coming!" cried he, breathless, but with a harsh excitement, as if he had been flying from an angry pursuer. "Who?
When three of them had passed, he declared his love to Ida Winwood, though in such a way that she need neither refuse nor accept him at once; and a quasi engagement was made between them, having in view a probable share in Vibbard's fortunes. Once, perhaps more than once, Silverthorn bitterly reproached himself, in her presence, for trusting so entirely to another man's energies.
For a second or two Vibbard's eyelids, which fell powerless while he listened, remained shut, and a shock of pain seemed to strike downward from the brain, across his face and through his whole stalwart frame. "It's your turn to hurt me," he said, slowly, as he looked at his friend again. "Have you any idea how that bare suggestion cut into me?" "I think I have," said Silverthorn, mechanically.
I was begging that she would forget all the words of love I had ever spoken, and listen to you when you should come to tell her your story." Vibbard's head bowed itself in humiliation and wonder. He came forward two or three steps, and sank into a chair. "Is this possible?" he inquired, at last. "And you, too, had loved her!" Silverthorn vouchsafed no reply.
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