“I have no doubt you will find her a kindly body,” said Mrs. Aytoun; “But I hope Jacky’s sense of the ludicrous is not so keen as her poetic feelings. You must take care of Jacky.”
“O, mamma,” said Alice, “you don’t know what a strange good girl Jacky is. People laugh at her, but she would not hurt any one’s feelings.”
“You do Jacky justice, Alice,” said Anne. “She is a strange good girl—she—”
Anne paused suddenly, breathless and excited. Who was that tall, gaunt woman, walking thoughtfully with bent head and lingering foot step, over the sands? She seemed to have come from the spectral dark house, which Anne had noticed before, looming so drearily over the sunny waters. She raised her eyes as they met—the large, wistful, melancholy eyes fell upon Anne’s face. It was the unknown relative of little Lilie—the passenger who, six months ago, had lingered to cast that same searching, woeful look upon the house of Merkland.
Anne was startled and amazed. She thought the stranger seemed disturbed also. Her eyes appeared to dilate and grow keener as she looked earnestly at Anne, and then passed on.
“Do you know that person?” said Mrs. Aytoun, wonderingly.
Anne turned to look after her; instead of her former slow pace, her steps were now nervously quick and unsteady. Surely some unknown emotion strong and powerful, had risen in the stranger’s breast from this meeting. Anne answered Mrs. Aytoun with an effort. “I do not know her—but I have seen her before—I met her once in Strathoran.”
They went on. Anne’s mind was engrossed—she could not, as before, take part in the gay conversation of Alice. Mrs. Aytoun perceived her gravity. After some time, she asked again: “Do you know who she is? I see you are interested in her.”
“I do not know her at all,” said Anne. “You will think me very foolish, Mrs. Aytoun, it is her look—her eyes—she has a very remarkable face.”
“Probably she lives here,” said Mrs. Aytoun. “Let us look at this house.”