Never did mortal know such unalloyed happiness
as blessed Martine, as he became daily more convinced that Helen
was not giving herself to him merely from the promptings of
compassion.
At times, when she did not know he was listening, he heard her
low, sweet laugh; and it had a joyous ring and melody which
repeated itself like a haunting refrain of music. He would say
smilingly, "It is circumstantial evidence, equivalent to direct
proof."
Helen and her mother almost took possession of his house while he
was absent at his office, refurnishing and transforming it, yet
retaining with reverent memory what was essentially associated
with Mrs. Martine. The changing aspects of the house did not
banish the old sense of familiarity, but were rather like the
apple-tree in the corner of the garden when budding into new
foliage and flower. The banker's purse was ever open for all this
renovation, but Martine jealously persisted in his resolve to meet
every expense himself. Witnessing his gladness and satisfaction,
they let him have his way, he meanwhile exulting over Helen's
absorbed interest in the adornment of her future home.
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