Another instant and he had recognized Wesley
Elliot. He stopped behind a clump of low-growing trees, and watched.
Fanny, framed in the dark doorway, glowed like a rose. Jim saw her
bend forward, smiling; saw the minister take both her hands in his
and kiss them; saw Fanny glance quickly up and down the empty road,
as if apprehensive of a chance passerby. Then the minister, his
handsome head bared to the cold wind, waved her farewell and started
at a brisk pace down the road.
Jim waited till the door had closed lingeringly on the girl; then he
stepped forth from his concealment and waited.
Abreast of him Elliot stopped; aware, it would seem, of the menace in
the other man's eyes.
"You wished to speak with me?" he began.
"Speak with you--no! I want to kick you."
The minister eyed him indignantly. "What do you mean?"
"You sneaking hypocrite! do you think I don't know what has happened?
You threw Fanny down, when Lydia Orr came to town; you thought my
sister wasn't good enough--nor rich enough for a handsome, eloquent
clergyman like you. But when you learned her father was a convict--"
"Stop!" cried Elliot. "You don't understand!"
"I don't? Well, I guess I come pretty near it. And not content with
telling Lydia's pitiful secret to all the busybodies in town, you
come to Fanny with your smug explanations. My God! I could kill you!"
The minister's face had hardened during this speech.
"See here," he said. "You are going too far."
"Do you deny that you've made love to both my sister and Miss Orr?"
demanded Jim.
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