He was silent. A sudden change stole into his face. His lips quivered. An inexpressible sorrow gleamed for a moment in his dark eyes. He bent his head. Was that a tear that fell? I fancied so.
I took his hand and soothed it.
“Father, you will tell me, won’t you?” I whispered. “I shall not mind. I will be brave, whatever dreadful things I may have to know. Let me share the burden.”
For a moment I thought that he was yielding. He covered his face with his hands and remained silent. But when he looked up I saw that the moment of weakness had passed. He rose to his feet.
“Good night, Kate,” he said, quietly. “Thank you for your promise.”
My heart sank. I returned his kiss coldly. He left me without another word.
CHAPTER XII
MR. BERDENSTEIN’S SISTER
Three days after that memorable conversation with my father a fly drove up to the door, and from where I was sitting in our little drawing room I heard a woman’s anxious voice inquiring for Mr. Ffolliot. A moment or two later the maid knocked at my door.