“To Mr. Houston?” Lyle had risen in her surprise, and stood regarding Jack with tearful, perplexed astonishment; there was a hidden significance in his words which as yet she could not fathom. “I do not understand you, Jack; why do you speak as though you could no more be to me the friend and counselor that you have been?”
He smiled one of his rare, sweet smiles. “Do as I have suggested, dear,––then you will understand; and I shall want to see you for a few moments again to-night, after you have seen him.”
Somewhat reassured by his smile, and yet perplexed by his manner, Lyle left the cabin and slowly returned to the house, everything about her seeming unreal, as though she were walking in a dream.
Miss Gladden was chatting with Morton and Ned Rutherford, and in reply to Lyle’s question whether Mr. Houston had returned, stated that he was in his room, having just come up from the mines.
“Thank you, I will see him just a moment,” Lyle responded, passing into the house.
“You have not heard any bad news, have you?” asked Miss Gladden apprehensively, noting the peculiar expression on Lyle’s face.
“No,” the latter answered with a smile, “it is about nothing regarding himself that I wish to see him, only something concerning myself.”
The door stood open into Houston’s room, and Lyle could see him standing by the table, arranging some papers which he proceeded to sort and tie up in separate parcels.
In response to her light knock he glanced quickly around, and observing her unusual expression, advanced to meet her, thinking, as did Miss Gladden, that possibly she had heard something appertaining to the present situation of affairs at the camp.
“Good evening, Lyle, come in; you look as though you were the bearer of important news of some kind.”