Hellayne gave a start.
It was true! But how had the old crone found it out! She glanced wistfully at her companion, and the latter, satisfied she was on the right track, proceeded to answer that questioning glance.—
"You think he is in danger, or in grief," she continued mysteriously, "and you wonder why he does not come. What would you not give, my poor child, to see him this very moment—to look into his face—his eyes. And I can show him to you, if you will. I am not ungrateful, even for a slight service."
The blood mounted to Hellayne's brow, and a strange light kindled in her eyes, while a soft radiance swept over her face such as comes into every countenance when the heart vibrates with an illusion to its happiness, as though the silver cord thrilled to the touch of an angel's wing. It was no clumsy guess of the wise woman to infer that the woman before her loved.
"What mean you?" asked Hellayne eagerly. "How can you show him to me? What do you know of him? Where is he? Is he safe?"
The wise woman smiled. Here was a bird flying blindly into the net. Take her by her affections, there would be little difficulty in the capture.
"He is in danger—in grave danger," she replied. "But you could save him, if you only knew how. He might be happy, too, if he would. But—with another!"
To do Hellayne justice, she heard only the first sentence.
"In grave danger," she repeated. "I knew it! And I could save him! Oh, tell me where he is, and what I can do for him?"
The wise woman pulled a small mirror from her bosom.