"Elizabeth, what an age it is since I've had a sight of you!"
But though the manner was warm as ever,
"In his tone
A something smote her, as if Duty tried
To mock the voice of Love, how long since flown,"
and quiet as she stood, Elizabeth shivered in his arms.
"Why, what's the matter? Aren't you glad to see me? Give me another kiss, my girl, do!"
He took it; and she crept away from him and sat down.
"Tom, I've got something to say to you, and I'd better say it at once."
"To be sure. 'Tisn't any bad news from home, is it? Or"—looking uneasily at her—"I haven't vexed you, have I?"
"Vexed me," she repeated, thinking what a small foolish word it was to express what had happened, and what she had been suffering. "No, Tom, not vexed me exactly. But I want to ask you a question. Who was it that you stood talking with, under our tree in the square, between nine and ten o'clock, this night three weeks ago?"
Though there was no anger in the voice it was so serious and deliberate that it made Tom start.