"I don't, mother."
"Indeed, I am greatly concerned about her. She believed her husband dead, poor girl. And now"—with a sudden, disconcerting turn on Clare—"what about your engagement?"
"I'm—I'm not engaged!" As she sprang up, the girl pressed both hands against the wine-colored velveteen of her skirt, hiding them. "I never said I was! Oh, I wish you'd mind your own business!"
"Mother! Mother!" pleaded Sue. "It was you who said it. Not
Miss—Mrs. Farvel. Don't you remember?"
"How could I be engaged?" She was emboldened by Sue's help. "I knew he wasn't—dead."
Farvel laughed a little bitterly. "You mean, no such luck, don't you,
Laura?" he asked. "Well, then,—I've got some good news for you."
"What? What?"—with a sudden, eager movement toward him.
"When five years had passed, and no word had come from you, though we all felt that you were alive, your brother—in order to settle the estate—had you declared legally dead. And naturally, that—that——"
"I'm free!" She put up both hands, and lifted her face—almost as if in prayerful thanksgiving. "I'm free! I'm free!" Then she gave way to boisterous laughter, and fell to walking to and fro, waving her arms, and turning her head from side to side. "I'm dead, but I'm free! Oh, ha! ha! ha!—Well, that is good news! Free! And you're free!"
"No, I am not free," he said quietly. "But it doesn't matter."