But Amy declined. She felt she dared not so brave Frances; and Anne, after expressing her belief in her unkindness, left her.
Frances' face did look like adamant, so still and set; and yet she was feeling at her heart, more perhaps than any one there present in that large room. Would her voice have any weight with Charles? Would he stay behind if she asked him? While a chill fear crept over her as the thought flew through her of what might happen if he went; might not his fate be that of the man they had spoken of so recently? might he not be brought home even as he was—lifeless—and she never see him more? and then what would life be worth to her? As she watched him in the circle round Mrs. Linchmore, laughing and joking, and turning the fears of those near him into ridicule, she felt that now he was so near danger he was nearer and dearer to her heart than he had ever been before. He should not, must not go, if she could prevent it.
Presently he moved away from the rest. She went and joined him.
"Charles," she began, "are you really in earnest?"
"About what, Frances?"
"Determined on this expedition in spite of all opposition?"
"Of course I am. What made you think otherwise?"
"I thought you might have been persuaded to stay."
"Then you thought wrong, cousin," said he, laughingly.