“As I promised, Gilbert,” she said. “But do not look so anxious. If there really is any trouble, I must learn it of you.”
She then related to him what she had noticed in Miss Lavender's manner, and learned of her movements. He stood before her, listening, with his hand on the mane of her horse, and his eyes intently fixed on her face. She saw the agitation her words produced, and her own vague fears returned.
“Can you guess her business, Gilbert?” she asked.
“Martha,” he answered, “I only know that there is something in her mind, and I believe it concerns me. I am afraid to guess anything more, because I have only my own wild fancies to go upon, and it won't do to give 'em play!”
“What are those fancies, Gilbert? May I not know?”
“Can you trust me a little, Martha?” he implored. “Whatever I know, you shall know; but if I sometimes seek useless trouble for myself, why should I seek it for you? I'll tell you now one fear I've kept from you, and you'll see what I mean.”
He related to her his dread that Sandy Flash might prove to be his father, and the solution of it in the highwayman's cell. “Have I not done right?” he asked.
“I am not sure, Gilbert,” she replied, with a brave smile; “you might have tested my truth, once more, if you had spoken your fears.”
“I need no test, Martha; and you won't press me for another, now. I'll only say, and you'll be satisfied with it, that Betsy seemed to guess what was in my mind, and promised, or rather expected, to come back with good news.”
“Then,” said Martha, “I must wait until she makes her appearance.”