He did not see the look of triumph that lit up her eye, but added, “Go on and play.”
She sat down obediently to the instrument. He watched her for a few moments from the toe of her kid slipper on the pedals to the swell of her shoulders above the keyboard, with a strange, abstracted face. Presently she stopped and came over to him.
“And when I've got these nice calico frocks, and you can't tell me from Jane, and I'm a good housekeeper, and settle down to be a farmer's wife, maybe I'll have a secret to tell you.”
“A secret?” he repeated gravely. “Why not now?”
Her face was quite aglow with excitement and a certain timid mischief as she laughed: “Not while you are so solemn. It can wait.”
He looked at his watch. “I must give some orders to Jim about the stock before he turns in,” he said.
“He's gone to the stables already,” said Mrs. Rylands.
“No matter; I can go there and find him.”
“Shall I bring your boots?” she said quickly.
“I'll put them on when I pass through the kitchen. I won't be long away. Now go to bed. You are looking tired,” he said gently, as he gazed at the drawn lines about her eyes and mouth. Her former pretty color struck him also as having changed of late, and as being irregular and inharmonious.