“I don’t know,” said Dorothy. “There are the diamonds, you know, that we found. I don’t care for any diamonds, except the one you gave me. If we could sell those——”
“Dorothy, don’t. I don’t believe they’re ours, and if they were, they shouldn’t be sold. You should keep them.”
“My engagement ring, then,” suggested Dorothy, her lips trembling. “That’s ours.”
“Don’t be foolish,” said Harlan, a little roughly. “I’ll finish this and then we’ll see what’s to be done.”
Feeling her dismissal, Dorothy went out, and, all unknowingly, straight into the sunshine.
Elaine was coming downstairs, fresh and sweet as the morning itself. “Am I too late to have any breakfast, Mrs. Carr?” she asked, gaily. “I know I don’t deserve any.”
“Of course you shall have breakfast. I’ll see to it.”
Elaine took her place at the table and Dorothy, reluctant to put further strain on the frail bond that anchored Mrs. Smithers to her service, brought in the breakfast herself.
“You’re so good to me,” said the girl, gratefully, as Dorothy poured out a cup of steaming coffee. “To think how beautiful you’ve been to me, when I never saw either one of you in my whole life, till I came here ill and broken-hearted! See what you’ve made of me—see how well and strong I am!”
Swiftly, Dorothy bent and kissed Elaine, a strange, shadowy cloud for ever lifted from her heart. She had not known how heavy it was nor how charged with foreboding, until it was gone.