With no attempt to conceal his artless scrutiny, he looked, and before his ingenuous wonder Lucy felt her pulse bound.
“I must go home,” she said, struggling to appear composed and ignoring the speechless Martin as if he were in reality as many miles away as she had supposed him. “I had no idea it was so late. Good night and thank you for my pleasant evening.”
None of the Howes attempted to stay her departure, although Jane followed her with feigned imperturbability to the door, remarking by way of conversation:
“It’s dretful dark outside, ain’t it?”
“Yes, but I don’t mind.”
To have escaped Martin Howe’s eyes, which continued to rest upon her, she would have plunged into a den of lions. The beating of her heart, the burning of her cheek angered and disconcerted her.
Jane unfastened the door. Then she started back in consternation.
“Mercy!” she cried. “It’s rainin’!”
“Rainin’?” Eliza exclaimed.