Kate Seton was sitting in the northern shadow of her little house the following morning when Stanley Fyles rode down the southern slope of the valley toward the old footbridge. She had just dispatched Big Brother Bill on an errand to the village, and, with feminine tact, had requested him to discover Helen’s whereabouts, and send her, or bring her home. She had no particular desire that Helen should return home. In fact, she would rather she didn’t until mid-day dinner. But she felt she was giving the man the excuse he evidently needed.
As a matter of fact, she had a good deal of work to do. And the first hour after Bill had taken his departure she was fully occupied with her two villainous hired men. After that she returned to the house, and wrote several letters, and, finally, took up her position in the shade, and devoted herself to a basket of long-neglected sewing.
At the sound of the approaching horseman she looked up with a start. She had no expectation of a visitor, she had no desire for one just now. Nevertheless, when she discovered the officer’s identity, she displayed no surprise, and more interest, than might have been expected.
She did not disguise from herself the feelings this man inspired. On the contrary she rather reveled in them, especially as, in a way, just now, all her actions must be in direct antagonism to his efforts.
She felt that a battle, a big battle, must be fought and won between them. It was a battle to be fought out openly and frankly. It was her determination that this man should not wrong himself by committing a great wrong upon Charlie Bryant.
Kate was very busy at the moment Fyles rode up. She was intent upon fitting a piece of lace, obviously too small, upon a delicate white garment of her sister’s, which was obviously too big.
For a moment, as she did not look up, Fyles sat leaning forward in the saddle with his arms resting upon its horn. He was watching her with a smiling interest which was not without anxiety.
“There’s surely not a dandier picture in the world than a girl sitting in the shade sewing—white things,” he said at last, by way of greeting.
Kate glanced up for the briefest of smiling glances. Then her dark head bent over her sewing again.