"
Gordon gave a sigh.
"To say that is to say too much."
"What shall we say, then?" his companion asked, kindly.
Gordon stopped again; he stood there looking up at a certain
particularly lustrous star which twinkled--the night was cloudy--in an
open patch of sky, and the vague brightness shone down on his honest and
serious visage.
"I don't understand her," he said.
"Oh, I 'll say that with you any day!" cried Bernard. "I can't help you
there."
"You must help me;" and Gordon Wright deserted his star. "You must keep
me in good humor."
"Please to walk on, then. I don't in the least pity you; she is very
charming with you."
"True enough; but insisting on that is not the way to keep me in good
humor--when I feel as I do."
"How is it you feel?"
"Puzzled to death--bewildered--depressed!"
This was but the beginning of Gordon Wright's list; he went on to say
that though he "thought as highly" of Miss Vivian as he had ever done,
he felt less at his ease with her than in the first weeks of their
acquaintance, and this condition made him uncomfortable and unhappy.
"I don't know what 's the matter," said poor Gordon. "I don't know what
has come between us. It is n't her fault--I don't make her responsible
for it.
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