“Yes, I think so,” he replied, and led her to the willows bending gently over, as if to hide their treasure. Here was an immense trough hewn from a log, where the clear, cold water flowed through it, in a great stream.
Bess stooped to drink; when she lifted her dripping face, Henry West could not suppress a laugh at the picture she made. Even her stray locks had had a bath, and her brown eyes were alight like a water nymph’s. His heart swelled with increasing love for this beautiful girl, and with the love grew a most bitter anguish as he realized more and more how hopeless it all must be. He fought hard to stifle his tender passion, and fully aware of the pain he must bear to be so near her day after day, to see her so unconsciously happy, to hear her merry laugh and soft, tender voice. He could at least seek solace away across the hills, or comfort in the company of his faithful Eagle, whose confiding ear had already heard many of his master’s heartaches.
His mother summoned them from the house, and Bess, with a girlish challenge that she would reach there first, started to run swiftly down the gentle slope towards the house. Mrs. West caught the rosy, merry laughing girl in her arms as she said, “I am glad to see you feeling so well and rested this morning, dear.”
“Oh, I feel fine,” Bess replied. “I want to cry out—to shout,” she added, as she gave the older woman so vigorous a hug that it made her gasp for breath.
“Great guns! Bess, you better vent some of that superfluous squeeze on some of the rest of us. See! Mrs. West is still struggling to breathe,” said James, as he placed Bess in her chair at the breakfast table.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, little Mother! Did I really hurt you? But I just had to squeeze someone or something; so after this when any of you see me coming with fire in my eye, I give you all fair warning.” They laughed at her strenuosity and good spirits and the coffee was served.
“Bess, don’t impress those people that you came from the Bowery,” said her brother, and all through breakfast she tried to recall what she had said or done that should suggest such a thought to James.
Breakfast was nearly over when Mrs. West told Henry to go up to the sick man’s room, as Mr. Davis had requested to see him. Henry shot a troubled glance at his mother and said, “I would much rather not go, mother.”
“I cannot understand, Henry, why you have taken such a dislike to Mr. Davis; he has always treated us with courtesy and many times has shown us marked consideration. Surely you cannot have forgotten how attentive he always was to Helen—”