The man turned to the fire again—he had not looked at the child yet—and made a despairing gesture with his hands.
“That she—” he said, “that she should lie so far from them, and in unconsecrated ground!”
“There is the place I told you of,” said Tom.
“I cannot go there,” with the gesture again. “There is no time. I must go away.”
He made no pretence at concealing that he had a secret to hide. He seemed to have given up the effort.
Tom looked up at him.
“What are you going to do with this?” he asked.
Then for the first time he seemed to become conscious of the child’s presence. He turned and gave it a startled sidelong glance, as if he had suddenly been struck with a new fear.
“I—do not know,” he stammered. “I—no! I do not know. What have I been doing?”
He sank into a chair and buried his face in his trembling hands.