Leaving the name unpronounced, the girl glided back into the kitchen; and, crossing it with quick step, stood once more within the doorway.
As yet there was no one in sight. The dog was barking at something that had roused him either by scent or sound. But the girl knew that the animal rarely erred in this wise; and that something—either man or beast—must be approaching the hut.
She was not kept long in suspense, as to who was the coming visitor; though the hope, to which she had given thought, had well-nigh departed before that visitor came within view. The dog was making his demonstration towards the south. The path to Stone Dean led northward from the cottage. Henry Holtspur, if coming from home, should appear in the latter direction.
The girl knew of another visitor who might be expected by the southern path, and at any hour. In that direction dwelt Will Walford. It might be he?
A shadow of disappointment swept over her face, accompanying this conjecture. It seemed to say, how little welcome just then would Will Walford be.
Such must have been its signification: for at sight of this individual—the moment after advancing along the path—the shadow on her countenance sensibly deepened.
“How very provoking!” muttered she. “At such a time too—just as I had hopes of seeing him. If he should come too—even though his errand be to father—I shouldn’t wonder if Will was to make some trouble. He’s been jealous ever since he saw me give Master Holtspur the flowers—worse about him than any one. Will’s right there; though the other’s not to blame—no, no—only myself. I wish he were a little in fault. Then I shouldn’t mind Will’s jealousy; nor he, I’m sure. Oh! if he loved me, I shouldn’t care for aught, or anybody, in the wide world!”
Having made this self-confession, she stepped back into the doorway; and, standing upon the stoup, awaited the unwelcome visitor with an air of defiant indifference.
“Mornin’, Bet!” saluted her suitor in a curt, sulky fashion, to which “Bet” made an appropriate response. “Thou be-est stannin’ in the door as if thou wast lookin’ for some’un? I doan’t suppose it are for me anyhow.”
“No, indeed,” answered the girl, taking but slight pains to conceal her chagrin. “I neither expected you, nor do I thank you for coming. I told you so, when you were here last; and now I tell you again.”