Fanny’s mind remained absorbed in the exhibition of emotion that she had just witnessed. Her heart swelled with grief and mortification as she realized how little she mattered to Arthur Faunce, how useless it was for her to try to console him, when he cared only for Diane.
“I can’t tell you,” he managed to say at length, “how I feel about that terrific end to the expedition.” He threw out his arms with an almost frantic gesture. “I’d give not only my life, but the hope of her love, to bring him back!”
Fanny turned from the window with a strange look on her face.
“Hush!” she said in a low voice. “Here she is—here’s Diane.”
She gave him time to recover his composure; then, going swiftly into the hall, she opened the door for her visitor.
“Papa has been out all day, and I was lonely,” Diane explained. “I thought I’d come in for a cup of your tea, Fanny.”
The two girls kissed each other, and Fanny whispered:
“Arthur Faunce is here.”
She thought Diane colored, but she was not sure. A moment later they entered the room together. Faunce was standing by the fire with his back to the door, but he turned as they came in. Fanny saw that he had entirely mastered his emotion, and his handsome face lit up with a ready smile as Diane greeted him.
“I was sorry to miss you this morning,” she said gravely; “but papa gave me the package. I—well, I haven’t tried to read it yet. I couldn’t!”