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Sommers locked the door, putting the key in the usual hiding-place, and together they crossed the park to the railroad station. There they separated. "I shall not come out to-morrow," Miss Hitchcock said, as if she had arrived at the decision after some wavering. He did not urge her to come, and they shook hands. "Remember," she said hesitatingly, "that ideas don't separate people.
Those pleasant days in Paris had been rendered more memorable to the young doctor by the friendship that came about between him and Miss Hitchcock a friendship quite independent of anything her family might feel for him. She let him see that she made her own world, and that she would welcome him as a member of it.
"That is a familiar story," the doctor observed, with a grim smile, "especially in his set. They took the war as a kind of football match and it is just as well they did." "You are the ones that really know what it means the doctors and the nurses," Miss Hitchcock said warmly.
Sommers realized for the first time how the Aurora and the Queen Louise must worry Miss Hitchcock; how the neat Swedish maids and the hat-stand in the hall must offend young Hitchcock. The incongruities of the house had never disturbed him. So far as he had noticed them, they accorded well with the simple characters of his host and hostess.
He hoped that Miss Hitchcock would appear before her father took him off. He should like to see her again to hear her voice. Every moment some one nodded to him, distracting his attention, but his eyes reverted immediately to the end of the hall. Men and women were passing out, down the broad staircase that ended in front of the intelligent portrait.
It was easy to see that the pedestrian business of selling lumber would not satisfy Brome Porter. Popularly "rated at five millions," his fortune had not come out of lumber. Alexander Hitchcock, with all his thrift, had not put by over a million. Banking, too, would seem to be a tame enterprise for Brome Porter. Mines, railroads, land speculations he had put his hand into them all masterfully.
In fact, a certain girl, who was much in his thoughts, and whose picture in the little locket on his breast often inspired him to sing, had given him the dog and her blessing when they kissed good-by and he started on his Northland quest. "What d'ye say?" Hitchcock repeated. "Mebbe it's not so serious," Hawes answered with deliberation. "Most likely it's only a girl's story."
The Hitchcocks and the Sommerses came from the same little village in Maine; they had moved west, about the same time, a few years before the Civil War: Alexander Hitchcock to Chicago; the senior Dr. Sommers to Marion, Ohio. Alexander Hitchcock had been colonel of the regiment in which Isaac Sommers served as surgeon.
And she's waited long, and now my pile's in sight I'm not going to throw it away." "And shamed I would be to look into the girl's blue eyes and remember the black ones of the girl whose blood was on my hands," Hitchcock sneered; for he was born to honor and championship, and to do the thing for the thing's sake, nor stop to weigh or measure. Sigmund shook his head.
"I wonder what a woman like Miss Hitchcock thinks about such matters, about us, if she knew." "She would not think. She would avoid the matter as she would a case of drunkenness." The arm within his trembled. She said nothing more until they reached the little portico. She paused there, leaning against one of the crumbling columns, looking out into the night.
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