After breakfast—she could eat nothing—he said, "I have sent for a little steamer; it is to take me to all the landings within ten miles of here. I shall not be back until late, probably; don't sit up." He left the room.
Fifteen minutes later, he appeared again.
"I was waiting for the steamer down by the water, when I saw the boy who brings the mail going away; you have had a letter?"
She did not answer. Her hands were empty.
"You heard me coming and concealed it."
"I have nothing to conceal." She rose. "Yes, I have had a letter, Lanse is on his way to New York; he is taking a journey—for a change."
"You will let me see the letter?"
"Impossible." She was trembling a little, but she faced him inflexibly.
"Margaret, I beg you to let me see it. Show me that you trust me; you seem never to do that—yet I deserve—Tell me, then, of your own accord, what he says. If he has left you again, who should help you, care for you, if not I?"
"You last of all!" She walked away. "Of course now that I know, I am no longer anxious,—I was foolish to be so anxious. We are very much obliged to you for all you have done."