With a faint hope of this, the girl rose and went about her daily tasks; but the day passed, and another, without word or sign of the recreant lover, and each day brought a deeper sense of loss, but her pride would not permit her to show her grief.
Young Gregg, without knowing in the least the cause of her troubled face, took this occasion to offer comfort. His manner toward her had changed since she no longer had a part in the management of the eating-house, and for that reason she did not repulse him as sharply as she had been wont to do. He really bore Cavanagh no ill-will, and was, indeed, shrewd enough to understand that Lee admired the ranger, and that his own courtship was rather hopeless; nevertheless, he persisted, his respect for her growing as he found her steadfast in her refusal to permit any familiarity.
“See here, Miss Virginia,” he cried, as she was passing him in the hall, “I can see you’re worried about Lize (I mean your mother), and if I can be of any use I hope you’ll call on me.” As she thanked him without enthusiasm, he added: “How is she to-night?”
“I think she’s better.”
“Can I see her?”
His tone was so earnest that the girl was moved to say: “I’ll ask her.”
“I wish you would; I want to say something to her.”
Lize’s voice reached where they stood. “Come in, Joe, the door’s open.”
He accepted her invitation rather awkwardly, but his face was impassive as he looked down upon her.
“Well, how about it?” she asked. “What’s doing in the town?”