He walked back to the table and waited for her coming. His brain was in a whirl of conflicting, stunning emotion. He simply couldn't face at once the appalling possibilities such a statement involved. His mind refused to accept it. As yet it was a lie of Cleo's fertile invention, and still his reason told him that such a lie could serve no sane purpose in such a crisis. He felt that he was choking. His hand involuntarily went to his neck and fumbled at his collar.
Minerva's heavy footstep was heard and he turned sharply:
"Minerva!"
"Yassah"—she answered, glancing at him timidly. Never had she seen his face so ghastly or the look in his eye so desperate. She saw that he was making an effort at self-control and knew instinctively that the happiness of the lovers was at stake. It was too solemn a moment for anything save the naked truth and her heart sank in pity and sympathy for the girl she had promised to help.
"Minerva," he began evenly, "you are the only servant in this house who has never lied to me"—he took a step closer. "Are Tom and Miss Helen lovers?"
Minerva fumbled her apron, glanced at his drawn face, looked down on the floor and stammered:
"De Lordy, major——"
"Yes or no!" he thundered.
The black woman moistened her lips, hesitated, turned her honest face on his and said tremblingly:
"Yassah, dey is!"