CHAPTER XXIII.
THE SHADOW OVER THE HALL.
Col. Montjoy returned home early. He rode into the yard and entered the house with as much unconcern as he could affect. Annie met him at the door with an unusual display of interest. Had he rested well? Was not the hotel warm, and—was there anything of interest stirring in the city? To all these questions he responded guardedly and courteously. Mary's white face questioned him. He put his arm about her.
"And how is the little mamma to-day—have her eyes given her any more trouble?"
"She is staying in the darkened room to avoid the light," said the girl. He went to her and the two young women were left alone. Annie was smiling and bent upon aggravation.
"I think I shall ride in," she said at length. "There is something afoot that is being kept from me. Amos Royson is my cousin and I have a right to know if he is in trouble." Mary did not reply for a moment. At last she said:
"A man having written such a letter must expect to find himself in trouble—and danger, too." The other laughed contemptuously.
"I did not say danger! Amos has little to fear from the smooth-faced, milk-and-water man he has exposed."
"Wait and see," was the reply. "Amos Royson is a coward; he will not only find himself in danger, but if necessary to save himself from a cowhiding will involve other people—even a woman!"
"What do you mean? You have not always thought him a coward; you have accepted his attentions and would have married him if you had had the chance." Mary looked up quickly.