“Even my darling’s pet will not be comforted.” And tears stole into her eyes as she turned away from the bird. “Oh, Sam, I’ve been so anxious to hear from you! Have you found my darling?”
Sam had approached the steps unseen by her, and when she turned away from the bird he stood directly in front of her, though at a little distance.
Her mind at once recalled his words, which rang in her ears as she sank to the ground on that fateful night of the reception, and it was therefore the first and most natural question uppermost in her mind when she saw him.
He started back in evident surprise and answered confusedly:
“Well—I—I am sure, Mrs. Thorpe, if I had found her, I should only be too glad to—to tell you.”
“And you have no tidings of her? But—come in, I am sure something important brought you here.”
She entered the house, followed by Sam, who muttered to himself, “She’s conjuring tears already, but I’m proof, were they to fall like rain. I guess so!”
Upon entering the room he looked at her steadfastly and quizically.
There was something in his look, too, that bore the imprint of effrontery.
She stared at him and asked timidly with alarm in her voice. “Oh, what do you know of her?”