"And one of those young ladies is the fair volume that contains the precious lesson," said Longueville. "Or perhaps your text-book is in two volumes?"
"No; there is one of them I am not studying at all. I never could do two things at once."
"That proves you are in love. One can't be in love with two women at once, but one may perfectly have two of them--or as many as you please--up for a competitive examination. However, as I asked you before, which of these young ladies is it that you have selected?"
Gordon Wright stopped abruptly, eying his friend.
"Which should you say?"
"Ah, that 's not a fair question," Bernard urged. "It would be invidious for me to name one rather than the other, and if I were to mention the wrong one, I should feel as if I had been guilty of a rudeness towards the other.
Don't you see?"
Gordon saw, perhaps, but he held to his idea of ****** his companion commit himself.
"Never mind the rudeness. I will do the same by you some day, to make it up.
Which of them should you think me likely to have taken a fancy to?
On general grounds, now, from what you know of me?" He proposed this problem with an animated eye.
"You forget," his friend said, "that though I know, thank heaven, a good deal of you, I know very little of either of those girls.
I have had too little evidence."
"Yes, but you are a man who notices. That 's why I wanted you to come.
"
"I spoke only to Miss Evers."
"Yes, I know you have never spoken to Miss Vivian." Gordon Wright stood looking at Bernard and urging his point as he pronounced these words. Bernard felt peculiarly conscious of his gaze.
The words represented an illusion, and Longueville asked himself quickly whether it were not his duty to dispel it.
The answer came more slowly than the question, but still it came, in the shape of a negative. The illusion was but a trifling one, and it was not for him, after all, to let his friend know that he had already met Miss Vivian.
It was for the young girl herself, and since she had not done so--although she had the opportunity--Longueville said to himself that he was bound in honor not to speak. These reflections were very soon made, but in the midst of them our young man, thanks to a great agility of mind, found time to observe, tacitly, that it was odd, just there, to see his "honor" thrusting in its nose. Miss Vivian, in her own good time, would doubtless mention to Gordon the little incident of Siena.
It was Bernard's fancy, for a moment, that he already knew it, and that the remark he had just uttered had an ironical accent; but this impression was completely dissipated by the tone in which he added--"All the same, you noticed her."
"Oh, yes; she is very noticeable."
"Well, then," said Gordon, "you will see. I should like you to make it out.
Of course, if I am really giving my attention to one to the exclusion of the other, it will be easy to discover."
Longueville was half amused, half irritated by his friend's own relish of his little puzzle. " 'The exclusion of the other' has an awkward sound," he answered, as they walked on. "Am I to notice that you are very rude to one of the young ladies?"
"Oh dear, no. Do you think there is a danger of that?"
"Well," said Longueville, "I have already guessed."
Gordon Wright remonstrated. "Don't guess yet--wait a few days.
I won't tell you now."
"Let us see if he does n't tell me," said Bernard, privately.
And he meditated a moment. "When I presented myself, you were sitting very close to Miss Evers and talking very earnestly.
Your head was bent toward her--it was very lover-like. Decidedly, Miss Evers is the object!"
For a single instant Gordon Wright hesitated, and then--"I hope I have n't seemed rude to Miss Vivian!" he exclaimed.
Bernard broke into a light laugh. "My dear Gordon, you are very much in love!" he remarked, as they arrived at their hotel.