"I see that you have kept me at a distance, Frances; that you have left me alone all day; that you seem very tired and unhappy. What I see—yes, what I see—does not, I confess, strike me in a favorable light."
Frances, who had been standing all this time, now laid her hand on Arnold's shoulder. Her voice had grown quiet, and her agitation had disappeared.
"A week will not be long in passing," she said. "A heavy burden has been laid upon me, and the worst part is the suspense. If you have waited ten years, you can wait another week, Philip. I can give you no other answer to-night."
The hand which unconsciously had been almost caressing in its light touch was removed, and Frances returned quickly to the house. She came in by a back entrance, and, going straight to her own room, locked the door. Thus she could not hear her father when he called her.
But Philip remained for a long time in the elm-walk, hurt, angry, and puzzled.
CHAPTER X.
"FLUFF WILL SUIT HIM BEST."
Frances spent a very unhappy night. She could not doubt Philip's affection for her, but she knew very little about men, and was just then incapable of grasping its depth. Like many another woman, she overlooked the fact that in absolutely sacrificing herself she also sacrificed the faithful heart of the man who had clung to her memory for ten long years.
Frances was too humble to suppose it possible that any man could be in serious trouble because he could not win her.