Shocked! I would have said terrified. Nothing but fear—her old fear aggravated to a point that made all attempt at concealment impossible—could account for her white, drawn features and trembling form. She looked as if her whole thought was, “Have I come in time?”
“What—what has procured us the honor of this visit?” she asked, moving up beside William as if she would add her slight frame to his bulky one to keep this intruder out.
“Nothing that need alarm you,” said the other with a suggestive note in his kind and mellow voice. “I was rather unexpectedly entrusted this morning with a letter for your agreeable guest here, and I have merely come to deliver it.”
Her look of astonishment passing from him to me, I thrust my hand into my pocket and drew out the letter which I had just received.
“From home,” said I, without properly considering that this was in some measure an untruth.
“Oh!” she murmured as if but half convinced. “William could have gone for it,” she added, still eying Mr. Trohm with a pitiful anxiety.
“I was only too happy,” said the other, with a low and reassuring bow. Then, as if he saw that her distress would only be relieved by his departure, he raised his hat and stepped back into the open highway. “I will not intrude again, Miss Knollys,” were his parting words. “If you want anything of Obadiah Trohm, you know where to find him. His doors will always be open to you.”
Lucetta, with a start, laid her hand on her brother’s arm as if to restrain the words she saw slowly laboring to his lips, and leaning breathlessly forward, watched the fine figure of this perfect country gentleman till it had withdrawn quite out of sight. Then she turned, and with a quick abandonment of all self-control, cried out with a pitiful gesture toward her brother, “I thought all was over; I feared he meant to come into the house,” and fell stark and seemingly lifeless at our feet.
X
Secret Instructions
For a moment William and myself stood looking at each other over this frail and prostrate figure. Then he stooped, and with an unexpected show of kindness raised her up and began carrying her toward the house.
“Lucetta is a fool,” he cried suddenly, stopping and giving me a quick glance over his shoulder. “Because folks are terrified of this road and come to see us but seldom, she has got to feel a most unreasonable dread of visitors. She was even set against your coming till we showed her what folly it was for her to think we could always live here like hermits. Then she doesn’t like Mr. Trohm; thinks he is altogether too friendly to me—as if that was any of her business. Am I an idiot? Have I no sense? Cannot I be trusted to take care of my own affairs and keep my own secrets? She’s a weak, silly chit, to go and flop over like this when, d⸺n it, we have enough to look after without nursing her up and—I mean,” he said, tripping himself up with an air of polite consideration so out of keeping with his usual churlishness as to be more than noticeable, “that it cannot add much to the pleasure of your visit to have such things happen as this.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me!” I curtly responded. “Get the poor girl in. I’ll look after her.”
But as if she heard these words and was startled by them, Lucetta roused in her brother’s arms and struggled passionately to her feet. “Oh! what has happened to me?” she cried. “Have I said anything? William, have I said anything?” she asked wildly, clinging to her brother in terror.
He gave her a look and pushed her off.
“What are you talking about?” he cried. “One would think you had something to conceal.”
She steadied herself up in an instant.
“I am the weakest of the family,” said she, walking straight up to me and taking me affectionately by the arm. “All my life I have been delicate and these turns are nothing new to me. Sometimes I think I will die in one of them; but I am quite restored now,” she hastily added, as I could not help showing my concern. “See! I can walk quite alone.” And she ran, rather than walked, up the few short steps of the porch, at which we had now arrived. “Don’t tell Loreen,” she begged, as I followed her into the house. “She worries so about me, and it will do no good.”
William had stalked off toward the stables. We were therefore alone. I turned and laid a finger on her arm.
“My dear,” said I, “I never make foolish promises, but I can be trusted never to heedlessly slight anyone’s wishes. If I see no good reason why I should tell your sister of this fainting fit, I shall certainly hold my peace.”
She seemed moved by my manner, if not by my words.
“Oh,” she cried, seizing my hand and pressing it. “If I dared to tell you of my troubles! But it is impossible, quite impossible.” And before I could urge a plea for her confidence she was gone, leaving me in the company of Hannah, who at this moment was busying herself with something at the other end of the hall.
I had no wish to interfere with Hannah just then. I had my letter to read, and did not wish to be disturbed. So I slipped into the sitting-room and carefully closed the door. Then I opened my letter.
It was, as I supposed, from Mr. Gryce, and ran thus:
Dear Miss
