"Well, I won't, Lou dear. Only it makes me feel bad to see you look this way. And I know there's something the matter."
"No, there isn't," replied Louise woodenly.
Hilda discovered, far in an unfrequented corner of her own little special chest of drawers which had been moved in out of Aunt Marjie's way, a fine new scarf. It was a scarf she had never worn before. Indeed, she had forgotten all about it. Now she remembered it had been put away carefully, with the understanding that it was to be brought out for some very special occasion. Her heart told her the golden hour had come. Her heart was so full of news that it began singing.
"We're going to light Mr. O'Donnell through to the roast!"
"Who?" asked Louise. She spoke impulsively, as all the Needhams were in the habit of speaking. Had she thought a moment she would not have asked.
Hilda told her, with a thrill of most abundant happiness. She hugged her happiness; she did not know what it cost her sister.
Louise braced herself. The evening had to be got through somehow. But after tonight—then what? Her father would be expecting Lynndal to come to him to talk it over. And how terrible! Would it, perhaps—her thoughts were flying helter-skelter—would it perhaps make some fatal difference in the Western business? Would Lynndal continue to look after the interests, just as before? Could any one reasonably expect the relations all around to remain quite what they had been?
Remorse stole dully over her. She had come between her father and his friend. Could he forgive her? And could her father? Why had she done such a thing? But was it final? All those letters.... At length he was here ... had come so far ... and what had she done? In the morning she had gone to meet her lover. It had seemed fine and romantic. She had told Leslie they must be only friends now. It had all appeared quite easy and rather delightful. Then Lynndal had come, and ... and then what? What was it that had happened? It had seemed to her that she could not give herself up....
If only she could have a sudden change of heart! One read of such things, now and then. If only she could rush joyously down to him, where he sat talking with her father, and tell him she did love him! But after all, she could only go on dressing, miserably dressing.