"And this is all—you've told me all that passed between you?" he asked, eagerly.
"Yes, all," she answered, pitying him, he looked so frightened, so disturbed.
Consulting his watch, he continued, "There's time, I see, if I am expeditious, I must take the next train east though I would so much rather stay and talk with you. I shall see you again, Miss Hastings. You'll come often to Grassy Spring, won't you? I need the sight of a face like yours to keep me from going MAD."
He wrung her hand and stepped into the hall just as one of the black women he had brought from Florida appeared.
"Aunt Phillis," he said, "I wish to speak with you," and going with her to the extremity of the hall, they conversed together in low, earnest tones, as if talking of some great sorrow in which both were interested.
Once Edith heard Aunt Phillis say, "Blessed lamb, that I've done toted so many tunes in these old arms. Go, Marser Arthur; never you mind old Phillis, she'll get on somehow. Mebby the young lady in thar kin show me the things and tell me the names of yer Yankee gimcracks."
"I have no doubt she will," returned Arthur, adding something in a whisper which Edith could not hear.
A moment more and Arthur passed the door, equipped with overcoat and umbrella, and she heard his rapid steps upon the back piazza as he went towards the carriage house. Aunt Phillis now re-entered the library, curtesying low to Edith, who saw upon her old black face the trace of recent tears.
"Is Mr. St. Claire's friend very sick?" Edith ventured to ask, and instantly the round bright eyes shot at her a glance of alarm, while the negress replied, "Dunno, misses. He keeps his 'fars mostly to hisself, and Phillis has done larnt not to pry."
Thus rebuked, Edith arose and began to tie on her hat preparatory to leaving.