And now, quite abruptly, Miss Pat spoke of her brother.
"Has Henry gone?"
"Yes; he left ten days ago."
She nodded several times, then looked at me and smiled.
"You have frightened him off! I am grateful to you!"—and I was glad in my heart that she did not know that Gillespie's money had sent him away.
Helen had not appeared, and I now made bold to ask for her.
"Let me send the maid to tell her you are here," said Miss Pat, and we walked to the door and rang.
The maid quickly reported that Miss Holbrook begged to be excused.
"She is a little afraid of the damp night air of the garden," said Miss Pat, with so kind an intention that I smiled to myself. It was at the point of my tongue to remark, in my disappointment at not seeing her, that she must have taken sudden alarm at the lake atmosphere; but Miss Pat talked on unconcernedly. I felt from her manner that she wished to detain me. No one might know how her heart ached, but it was less the appeal of her gentleness that won me now, I think, than the remembrance that flashed upon me of her passionate outburst after our meeting with the Italian; and that seemed very long ago. She had been magnificent that day, like a queen driven to desperation, and throwing down the gauntlet as though she had countless battalions at her back. Indecision took flight before shame; it was a privilege to know and to serve her!
"Miss Holbrook, won't you come out to see the water fête? We can look upon it in security and comfort from the launch. The line of march is from Port Annandale past here and toward the village, then back again. You can come home whenever you like. I had hoped Miss Helen might come, too, but I beg that you will take compassion upon my loneliness."