“HILDA AT THE WINDOW.”
“Why not?” he asked shyly, for her manner had suddenly intimidated him.
“Because I don’t believe I dare trust myself,” she said, more to herself than to him.
She struck a few chords and began one of Chopin’s Nocturnes. She broke off abruptly, rose from the piano, and went to the window. When she turned round again Holles had gone. He had understood.
But out on the ranch, Ben and Bob looked at each other when they heard the strains of music, and Bob’s face was aglow with pleasure. Ben was glad too.
“My little wife has gone back to her music,” Bob said. “Now all will be well with her. I feel as though things were going on better, and as though she were not fretting so much for the old country.”
Then the music ceased abruptly.
“She did not finish that melody,” he said, a little uneasily.
“I daresay she is tired,” Ben said reassuringly.