It was good to be with him there, to feel the pressure of his hand, and to look into his keen, resolute face. With Gordon by her side Hetty felt equal to meeting any terrors. Yet after the lapse of a few hours the whole thing seemed so vague and intangible that she hesitated to speak.
"Is it the corner house again?" Bruce suggested playfully.
"Don't laugh, dear," Hetty whispered. "The place haunts, me. I never seem to be able to get away from the horrors of it. And last night----"
"Go on, darling. I promise you not to laugh again."
By degrees Hetty told her story. It was real enough to her, but to Bruce's practical mind it sounded unsubstantial and shadowy. After all, she might easily have imagined the face at the window, and as to the man in the morning room, he had only been mistily reflected in a dim old mirror.
"But I should recognize him anywhere," Hetty protested.
Bruce thought that she would probably never have the chance, but he did not say so.
"Did Countess Lalage allude to it this morning?" he asked.
"Not a word," Hetty admitted. "She was glad to see me better; she breakfasted with Mamie and myself, and she was altogether charming, but----"
"But? There is much behind that word. You don't like her, Hetty?"