She could not conceal her aspect, but her heart was strong when she came down that morning till the troubles seemed to accumulate, and a black cloud of care, which she could not penetrate, appeared to be rising.
Salis went on hurriedly with his breakfast, talking of the business in the vestry; and all the time Leo was wondering how it was that North could have known of their meetings—how the vestry looked that morning—what the old sexton would say, and how this trouble would settle down.
She glanced furtively aside, and saw that Mary was watching her.
This set her wondering whether her sister knew anything, and of whether her nocturnal escapades would reach her brother’s ears.
It was not likely, she told herself; and she was gradually growing more composed, when Dally presented herself briskly at the door, her eyes twinkling, and a quiet, satisfied look about her which seemed to show that she was pleased with the task she had in hand.
“Note from Dr North, sir! No answer.”
“Hah! about the cottages,” said Salis, smiling as he opened the note, Dally closing the door after darting a triumphant glance at Leo, which was not seen. “Ammunition to use against the enemy. How provoking!”
“Is anything wrong, Hartley?” said Mary, while Leo bent lower over her book.
“Wrong? Yes! There always is something wrong. Poor Horace is unwell this morning, and cannot attend the vestry.”
Leo’s heart gave a bound. Her brave, strong lover had beaten the wretched intruder, and he had curled up in his hole, afraid to come out. There was nothing to fear from Horace North but his contempt, and she could meet that with her scorn.