Each succeeding hour
had its exquisite compensation; each presented the cup of knowledge
to lips that were parched with the fever of impotence, and each time
it was returned empty by the seekers after wisdom. There were days in
which Love went harvesting and prospered amazingly in the fields, for
each moment that he stored away against the future was ripe with
promise. He was laying by the store on which he was to subsist to the
end of his days; he allowed no moment to go to waste, for he is a
miser and full of greed. Not one word of love passed between these
two who waited for the fruit to ripen. They were never alone
together. Always they were attended by the calm, keen-eyed Mrs.
Gaston, who, though she may have been in sympathy with their secret
enterprise, was nevertheless a dependable barrier to its hasty
consummation.
She had received her instructions from the one now most likely to be
in need of a deterring influence; the girl herself. After that
evening on the porch, Bedelia had gone straight to her duenna with
the truth.
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