"Come, Hetty, why won't you talk?" said the Squire; he gave her a kindly yet careless glance.
They began to waltz, but Hetty had soon to pause for want of breath.
"You are not well," said Awdrey; "let me lead you out of the crowd. Here, let us sit the dance out under this tree; now you are better, are you not?"
"Yes, sir; oh, yes, Mr. Robert, I am much better now." She panted as she spoke.
"How pale you are," said Awdrey, "and you used to be such a blooming, rosy little thing. Well, never mind," he added hastily, "I ought not to forget that you have a good deal to worry you just now. You must try to keep up your courage. All you have to do to-morrow when you go into court is to tell the entire and exact truth."
"You don't mean me to do that, you can't," said Hetty. She opened her eyes and gave a wild startled glance. The next moment her whole face was covered with confusion. "Oh, what have I said?" she cried, in consternation. "Of course, I will tell the exact and perfect truth."
"Of course," said Awdrey, surprised at her manner. "You will be under oath, remember." He stood up as he spoke. "Now let me take you to your aunt."
"One moment first, Mr. Robert; I'd like to ask you a question."
"Well, Hetty, what is it?" said the young man, kindly.
Hetty raised her eyes for a moment, then she lowered them.