“I—we were frightened. You were all huddled up against the fence and your face was so white——”
Holly’s own face paled at the recollection. Winthrop’s smile faded, and his heart thrilled.
“I’m sorry I occasioned you uneasiness, Miss Holly,” he said, earnestly. “Then they carried me into the house and up to my room, I suppose. And that was all there was to it,” he added, regretfully and questioningly. It had been rather tame and uninteresting, after all.
“Yes——no,” answered Holly. “I—stayed with you while Julian went for Uncle Ran. I thought once you were really dead, after all. Oh, I was so—so frightened!”
“He should have stayed himself,” said Winthrop, with a frown. “It was a shame to put you through such an ordeal.”
There was a little silence. Then Holly’s eyes went back to Winthrop’s quite fearlessly.
“I wouldn’t let him,” she said. “I was angry. I told him he had killed you, and I wouldn’t let him touch you—at first. I—I was so frightened! Oh, you don’t know how frightened I was!”
She knew quite well what she was doing. She knew that she was laying her heart quite bare at that moment, that her voice and eyes were telling him everything, and that he was listening and comprehending! But somehow it seemed perfectly right and natural to her. Why should she treat her love—their love—as though it was something to be ashamed of, to hide and avoid? Surely the very fact that they could never be to each other as other lovers, ennobled their love rather than degraded it!
And as they looked at each other across a little space her eyes read the answer to their message and her heart sang happily for a moment there in the sunlight. Then her eyes dropped slowly before the intensity of his look, a soft glow spread upward into her smooth cheeks, and she smiled very gravely and sweetly.