She looked up at him, puzzled; sympathy in her mantling blush, in her soft, dark, earnest eyes. He could not avoid contrasting that truthful face with another's frivolous one; and I can't help it if you blame him. He did his best to shake off the feeling, and looked down at her with a careless smile.
"Don't let it give you concern, Lucy. My troubles must rest upon my own head.".
"Have you seen any more of that man who was watching? Roy."
"No. But I don't believe now that it was Roy. He strongly denies it, and I have had my suspicions diverted to another quarter."
"To one who may be equally wishing to do you harm?"
"I cannot say. If it be the party I—I suspect, he may deem that I have done him harm."
"You!" echoed Lucy. "And have you?"
"Yes. Unwittingly. It seems to be my fate, I think, to work harm upon—upon those whom I would especially shield from it."
Did he allude to her? Lucy thought so, and the flush on her cheeks deepened. At that moment the rain began to pour down heavily. They were then passing the thicket of trees where those adventurous ghost-hunters had taken up their watch a few nights previously, in view of the Willow Pond. Lucy stepped underneath their branches.
"Now," said Lionel, "should you have done well to accept my offer of Verner's Pride as a shelter, or not?"