“Oh, Kenneth!”
“There, there!” he said, reassuringly; “don’t worry about the future, what is, is enough for today, little girl.”
He had opened the door for her as though anxious to be alone; she understood, and was almost in the hall when the other door into the library opened, and glancing over her shoulder she saw Judithe standing there gazing after her, with a peculiar look.
She glanced up at Kenneth McVeigh, and saw his face suddenly grow white, and stern; then the door closed on her, and those two were left alone together. She stood outside the door for a full minute, amazed at the strange look in his eyes, and in hers, as they faced each other, and as she moved away she wondered at the silence there––neither of them had spoken.
They looked at each other as the door closed, a world of appeal in her eyes, but there was no response in his; a few hours ago she meant all of life to him––and now!––
With a quick sigh she turned and crossed to the window; drawing back the curtain she looked out, but all the heavens seemed weeping with some endless woe. The light of the 393 lamp was better, and she drew the curtains close, and faced him again.
“You have read––all?”
He bent his head in assent.
“And Captain Monroe?”
“Captain Monroe is at liberty. I have accepted your confession, and acted upon it.”