“Well, it’s beyond comprehension what you care, anyway,” said Hannah contemptuously. “Did you really spend all your time in New York on such things? It seems incredible. There certainly must have been other attractions?”
There was insinuation in Hannah’s voice though it was smooth as butter, but David had had long years of experience in hearing Hannah Heath’s sharp tongue. He minded it no more than he would have minded the buzzing of a fly. Marcia’s color rose, however. She made a hasty errand to the pantry to put away the bread, and her eyes flashed at Hannah through the close drawn pantry door. But Hannah did not give up so easily.
“It is strange you did not stay with Mrs. Leavenworth,” she said. “She told me you were one of her dearest friends, and you used to be quite fond of one another.”
Then it suddenly dawned upon David who Mrs. Leavenworth was, and a sternness overspread his face.
“Mrs. Leavenworth, did you say? Ah! I did not understand. I saw her but once and that for only a few minutes soon after I first arrived. I did not see her again.” His voice was cool and steady. Marcia coming from the pantry with set face, ready for defence if there was any she could give, marvelled at his coolness. Her heart was gripped with fear, and yet leaping with joy at David’s words. He had not seen Kate but once. He had known she was there and yet had kept away. Hannah’s insinuations were false. Mr. Temple’s words were untrue. She had known it all the time, yet what sorrow they had given her!
“By the way, Marcia,” said David, turning toward her with a smile that seemed to erase the sternness in his voice but a moment before. “Did you not write me some news? Miss Hannah, you are to be congratulated I believe. Lemuel is a good man. I wish you much happiness.”
And thus did David, with a pleasant speech, turn aside Hannah Heath’s dart. Yet while she went from the house with a smile and a sound of pleasant wishes in her ears, she carried with her a bitter heart and a revengeful one.
David was suddenly brought face to face with the thing he had to tell Marcia. He sat watching her as she went back and forth from pantry to kitchen, and at last he came and stood beside her and took her hands in his looking down earnestly into her face. It seemed terrible to him to tell this thing to the innocent girl, now, just when he was growing anxious to win her confidence, but it must be told, and better now than later lest he might be tempted not to tell it at all.
“Marcia!” He said the name tenderly, with an inflection he had never used before. It was not lover-like, nor passionate, but it reached her heart and drew her eyes to his and the color to her cheeks. She thought how different his clasp was from Harry Temple’s hateful touch. She looked up at him trustingly, and waited.
“You heard what I said to Hannah Heath just now, about—your——” He paused, dissatisfied—“about Mrs. Leavenworth”—it was as if he would set the subject of his words far from them. Marcia’s heart beat wildly, remembering all that she had been told, yet she looked bravely, trustingly into his eyes.