Hetty turned towards her with a little spot of colour in her cheek and apprehension in her eyes.
“So you have noticed it, too!” she said very slowly. “Of course, he has been busy and often away, while I know how anxious he must be; but when he is at home he scarcely speaks to me—and then, there is something in his voice that hurts me. I’m ’most afraid he has found out that I have been talking to Larry.”
Miss Schuyler smiled. “Well,” she said, “that—alone—would not be such a very serious offence.”
The crimson showed plainer in Hetty’s cheek and there was a faint ring in her voice. “Flo,” she said, “don’t make me angry—I can’t bear it to-night. Something is going to happen—I can feel it is—and you don’t know my father even yet. He is so horribly quiet, and I’m afraid of as well as sorry for him. It is a long while ago, but he looked just as he does now—only not quite so grim—during my mother’s last illness. Oh, I know there is something worrying him, and he will not tell me—though he was always kind before, even when he was angry. Flo, this horrible trouble can’t go on for ever!”
Hetty had commenced bravely, but she faltered as she proceeded, and Miss Schuyler, who saw her distress, had risen and was standing with one hand on her shoulder when the maid came in. She cast a hasty glance at her mistress, and appeared, Flora Schuyler fancied, embarrassed, and desirous of concealing it.
“Mr. Torrance will excuse you coming down again,” she said. “He may have some of the Sheriff’s men and one or two of the cow-boys in, and would sooner you kept your room. Are you likely to want me in the next half-hour?”
“No,” said Hetty. “No doubt you are anxious to find out what is going on.”
The maid went out, and Miss Schuyler fixed anxious eyes on her companion. “What is the matter with the girl, Hetty?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Did you notice anything?”
“Yes. I think she had something on her mind. Any way, she was unexplainably anxious to get away from you.”