"Then I shall spare you the painful task, by, doing it myself, my poor child. I shall write to-night."
She was silent, but he could see the tumultuous heaving of her breast, and the tears glistening on the heavy drooping lashes that swept her pale cheek. His heart bled for her, while his indignation waxed hot against the hypocritical scoundrel who, he feared, had succeeded only too well in wrecking her happiness.
She had described to him Egerton's character as he had made it appear to her, telling of their conversations on religious subjects, his supposed conversion, etc., etc.; thus unintentionally enabling Travilla to see clearly through the man's base designs. He silently resolved to stay in Lansdale and watch over her until her father's arrival.
"You ride out daily?" he inquired.
"Yes, sir."
"May I be your escort to-morrow?"
She cast down her eyes, which she had lifted to his face for an instant, blushing painfully. It seemed an effort for her to reply, and the words came slowly, and with hesitation. "I—should be glad to have you, sir; you know I have always valued your society, but—Mr. Egerton always goes with us—Lottie King and me—of late; and—and I can hardly suppose either of you would now find the company of the other agreeable."
"No, Elsie; but what do you think your father would wish?"
"I know he would be glad to have me under your care, and if you don't mind the unpleasantness."
"My dear, I would cheerfully endure far more than that, to watch over your father's child. You will not let this unhappy circumstance turn you against your old friend? I could hardly bear that, little Elsie." And he drew her toward him caressingly.