“Yes; but I want to hear it all again from you. Harry sent me some message.”
Leslie was silent.
“Why do you not speak? You are keeping something back.”
“Yes; he gave me a message for you, one I was to deliver.”
“Well,” said Louise quickly, “why do you not deliver it?”
“Because Harry is, in spite of his trouble, still young and thoughtless. It is a message that would make you more bitter against me than you are now.”
Louise rose from where she was seated in the dining-room, walked across to the bay window, looked out upon the sea, and then returned.
“I am not bitter against you, Mr Leslie. How could I be against one who has served us so well? But tell me my brother’s message now.”
He looked at her with so deep a sense of passionate longing in his eyes, that as she met his ardent gaze her eyes sank, and her colour began to heighten.
“No,” he said, “I cannot deliver the message now. Some day, when time has worked its changes, I will tell you word for word. Be satisfied when I assure you that your brother’s message will not affect his position in the least, and will be better told later on.”