"And you knew Mr. Ivor?"
"I had met him—once."
At this moment, of all moments, came a ring at the front door. Bee instantly guessed—nay, knew, as a matter of certainty—who the caller was; and her inward trembling increased. She was not surprised when the door opened, and the little maid announced—
"Mr. Ivor."
[CHAPTER XX]
THROUGH AN ORDEAL
IT was a severe trial for Bee. Amy there—Magda there—both looking on critically; one certainly knowing, and the other possibly half-suspecting, what she felt for him; while she had no knowledge whether his feelings for her went beyond ordinary friendliness, and gratitude for the part she had played in his rescue. That in some measure, he owed his life to her, none seemed to question. Under the circumstances, a call from him, when he happened to be in the place, was only to be expected, and might mean absolutely nothing.
Had she been alone, or with her mother only, she could have met him again as before—perhaps not quite so easily as then, yet with much the same simplicity. But Amy had been putting her to a severe strain. Already her heart beat fast, and her cheeks were flushed. If she allowed herself to show pleasure, there was danger that she might show overmuch pleasure; and those watching eyes would see! If she smiled in his face, she would be taxed afterwards with undue warmth. Besides—if he indeed had overheard Amy's words outside the Hut, he would understand only too well.
These thoughts rushed pell-mell through her mind, as she stood up to greet him. She knew that there was nothing for the emergency but self-restraint and composure. And in her present condition of overstrain, such composure could hardly fail to be over-done.
He came in quickly; looking well and handsome; and very glad, it would seem, to see her again. If so, he met with an immediate check. Bee received him coldly, distantly, as she might have received the veriest stranger. As he passed the door, the pretty flush in her cheeks died out, leaving her pale and apparently unmoved; and her chill quiet might easily be mistaken for utter indifference. Could he have seen the surge of joy which swelled below at the first glimpse of his face, he would not have been so taken in. Yet her eyes scarcely met his; and his warm grasp found limp fingers.