"Not to-day," she exclaimed; "at least do not touch it to-day."
His suspicious mind, so wildly on the alert since the strange events of the past week, was now fully aroused by the singular earnestness and trouble of her manner.
There was another secret! It was no desire to contradict him which actuated her—there was something at the bottom which he could not understand—a new phase of the mystery with which he had felt himself surrounded from the first moment of his arrival, and which had gathered and darkened so rapidly during the past week.
"Leave the tree at least to-day," pleaded Elizabeth.
"I can't send for Jarvis and put him off without a reason," he said; "he has plenty of work on his hands."
"It can't make no difference, Miss Mellen," the old man joined in; "'tain't no use to put it off—anyhow I couldn't come again till the last of the week."
"Let it go till then," she said, eagerly; and new life stole over her face at the bare hope of obtaining that delay.
"This is sheer folly," said her husband. "Go in—go in. You will catch cold—the grass is damp. Come, Jarvis, get your spade."
"It won't hurt the tree a spec, Miss Mellen," said he; "don't feel oneasy about it—I'll be as tender of it as if it was a baby."
He moved away as he spoke, and left the husband and wife together. Elizabeth was pale even through her artificial bloom—no matter what he thought, she must obtain some delay.