“I am very tired; it has been hard work, I assure you.”
For a few moments he held her hand, and looked anxiously into her face. Then a bright thought seemed to strike him, and he led her to one of the chairs which had been piled up at the back, disencumbered it of various “properties” which had been thrown upon it, and drew it forward, inviting her to be seated. But she shook her head.
“I have too much to do,” she said.
Again he seemed to understand, for he shook his head, took gently from her hands the curtains she had been folding, and again invited her, this time with a gesture more emphatic than before, to take the chair he had brought. She had lost all fear of him, and without giving him any further answer than a little smile and bend of the head in acquiescence, she sat down with a sigh. It struck her, even at that moment, as being rather curious that she should feel more at her ease, and more in sympathy with this afflicted recluse even than with her own mother. As this idea flitted through her mind she looked up, and became conscious of a look on Mr. Richard’s face which sent a thrill through her, whether of pleasure or pain she scarcely knew. All that she was sure of was that the glimpse that she caught before she cast her eyes hastily down again, was of the handsomest face she had ever seen. No eyes at once so bright and so tender, no mouth so firmly closed, and yet so kindly, no profile so clean cut, had she ever seen before. She had forgotten her work; she leaned back languidly in the carved chair, resting, and conscious of a sensation, an indescribable sensation of vivid excitement in which there was no fear. As for Mr. Richard, he stood for a few minutes quite still, looking at her. Then she felt his hand upon her arm, and looking up, saw that he was impressing upon her, still by gesture only, that she was to remain where she was, and that he was going away. Then he turned, leaped down from the stage upon the floor of the barn, and made his way rapidly through and over the rows of chairs and benches towards the door.
But Chris had felt so much soothed by his silent sympathy and attentions, that she uttered a little cry, unwilling to let him leave her. She was disappointed to find that he paid no heed, and the tears came to her tired eyes. Tears caused chiefly by physical fatigue they were, although it was this sudden desertion of her strange, silent friend which had set them flowing. Once started, however, they continued to flow for some minutes pretty freely, and she was still drying her eyes disconsolately when Mr. Richard came back again.
And then the reason of his short absence was made plain. He held in his hands a cup of tea.
Before he could reach the stage, Chris, quite as much ashamed as she would have been if a person reputed sane had caught her in her act of childish weakness, sprang up, and pretended to be again very busy. But Mr. Richard’s intellect was evidently clear enough as far as she was concerned, and he shook his head and smiled at her as he gently took from her hands for the second time the “properties” she had hastily snatched up.
She yielded even more meekly than before to his mute persuasions, sat down again, and accepted the tea with genuine gratitude.
“How very kind of you! It is just what I have been wanting all the afternoon,” she said.