Nabby stared. For an instant her mouth, which had opened to speak, closed and remained so. Varunas had vowed, during one of their domestic conferences, that he would give something for a tintype of her in that condition. “Only ’twould be so mirac’lous nobody’d believe ’twas you,” he had added.
The miraculous condition lasted but the fraction of a second. The mouth opened again.
“What!” gasped Nabby. “Do you mean to tell me that Cap’n Foster asked that Griffin one to come to this house—really asked him?”
Esther hesitated. She had spoken too hastily. And what she had said was not the exact truth. Her uncle had not invited Bob to call; he had merely prophesied that he would call. But at all events he had not forbidden him to do so.
“Oh, never mind!” she said, turning impatiently away. “What difference does it make?... Here is Uncle now, thank goodness!”
He came into the dining room, smilingly bade her good-morning, and they sat down to breakfast. She was apprehensive. They had agreed that neither should keep a secret from the other, but, in spite of this agreement, she was certain that this secret—hers and Bob’s—must be kept, at least until she was sure what her final answer to Bob should be. When her mind was fully made up, either one way or the other, she would tell him, but meanwhile it was far better for all concerned to say nothing. So she tried her best to appear at ease and, while pouring the coffee, commented upon the weather and similar safe and everyday topics. His replies were equally casual. Nevertheless she was still fearful. It seemed to her that those sharp eyes of his must see through her pretense.
Apparently they did not. He spoke of the Paris trip, of course. She was to sail in a few weeks. He had written another letter to Mrs. Carter and bade the latter make preparations to leave as soon as possible. “Not that I’m in a hurry to get rid of you,” he added, with a rueful smile. “I guess you know it isn’t that. But I am something like Sarah Bigsby, after she lost her husband. She told Colton, the minister, that she didn’t know but she wished Isaac had died sooner, because if he had she would have had more time to get used to missing him in.”
It was not until they were about to rise from the table that he mentioned the subject she most dreaded.
“Humph!” he observed, folding his napkin. “Well, young Griffin was as surprised when you told him the news as we thought he would be, eh?”
Esther was thankful that her own napkin required folding. She could look at that and not at him.