“Stop!” said the girl with a shiver. “I dare not think of it. Larry, can’t you see that just now you must not talk in that strain to me?”
“But there is a difference?” and Grant looked at her steadily.
For a moment the girl returned his gaze, her face showing very white in the faint light flung up by the snow; but she sat very straight and still, and the man’s passion suddenly fell from him.
“Yes,” she said softly, “there is. I was only sure of it when I fancied I had missed you a few minutes ago; but that can’t affect us, Larry. We can neither of us go back on those we belong to, and I know how mean I was when I tried to tempt you. You were staunch, and if I were less so, you would not respect me.”
Grant sighed. “You still believe your father right?”
“Yes,” said Hetty. “I must hope so; and if he is wrong, I still belong to him.”
“But you can believe that I am right, too?”
“Yes,” said Hetty simply. “I am, at least, certain you think you are. Still, it may be a long and bitter while before we see this trouble through. I have done too much to-night—that is, had it been for anyone but you—and you will not make my duty too hard for me.”
Larry’s pulses were throbbing furiously; but he had many times already checked the passionate outbreak that he knew would have banished any passing tenderness the girl had for him.
“No, my dear,” he said. “But the trouble can’t last for ever, and when it is over you will come to me? I have been waiting—even when I felt it was hopeless—year after year for you.”