Suddenly the light in her eyes faded, and she turned again to the stove in some haste, and went on with her work.
Blanche made the response she felt she must make. She had listened to the outpouring of the soul of the girl. She had been invited for one brief moment to peer into the inner recesses where the fires of simple human love burned fiercely upon the altar of sacrifice. And her responsibility burdened her.
She simply dared not pursue the matter in the light fashion she had intended. Then there was that feeling that the girl had been pleading in her own defence. And it was a feeling she was powerless to shake off.
It was not until food had been prepared and set ready on the table that Blanche found it possible to shake off the weight which the girl’s confession had heaped upon her. But at Molly’s invitation to “sit in” her lighter mood returned. The change was wrought by the change which her confession seemed to have brought about in Molly. The girl seemed easier in her mind. Her smile was less forced, and talk came more readily.
They talked through the meal, and as time went on Blanche’s constraint passed altogether. They talked of everything that interested, and by the time the meal was finished Blanche felt that Molly had actually benefited by her visit, and she herself had learned all, and far more than she had wanted to know concerning the man who had once been Corporal Andrew McFardell.
When the time for her departure came, Lightning brought her horse to the door of the house, and stood apparently engrossed in his admiration of the golden creature.
Inside the house the two women made their farewell.
“May I come again, Molly?”
Blanche’s smile was full of warmth. And Molly’s eyes widened at the superfluousness of the question.
“Why, Blanche, I’m crazy for you to come along all the time. Next to Andy I want you most.”