“You are insolent!” was all she answered.
“But it is true!” Bess said. “Or, if it is not true——”
“It is not true!” with a glance of scorn. She knew even in her innocence that this girl had been more to him.
“Then why do you ask for him?” with derision. “What do you want with him? What right have you to ask for him?”
“I wish to see him,” Henrietta answered. She would not, if she could avoid it, let her fears appear. After all, it was daylight, and she was strong and young; a match, she thought, for the other if the old man had not been there. “I wish to see him, that is all, and that is enough,” she repeated, firmly.
Bess did not answer at once. Indeed, at this point there came over her a change, as if either the other’s courage impressed her, or cooler thoughts suggested a different course of action. Her eyes still brooded malevolently on the other’s face, as if she would gladly have spoiled her beauty, and her sharp, white teeth gleamed. But to Henrietta’s last words she did not answer. She seemed to be wavering, to be uncertain. And at last,
“Do you mean him fair?” she asked. “That is the question.”
“I mean no harm to him.”
“Upon your honour?”
“Upon my honour.”