"She esteems you--your friendship--and likes you ever so much, and all that." She was speaking rapidly now, her sober eyes on Wickersham's face with an appealing look in them. "And she doesn't want to do anything to--to wound you; but I think you ought not to come so often or see her in a way to make people talk--and I thought I'd say so to you." A smile that was a plea for sympathy flickered in her eyes.
Wickersham's mind had been busy. This explained the change in Louise Wentworth's manner of late--ever since he had made the bold declaration of his intention to conquer her. Another idea suggested itself. Could the girl be jealous of his attentions to Mrs. Wentworth? He had had women play such a part; but none was like this girl. If it was a game it was a deep one. He took his line, and when she ended composed his voice to a low tone as he leant toward her.
"My dear girl, I have listened to every word you said. I am shocked to hear what you tell me. Of course I know people have talked about me,--curse them! they always will talk,--but I had no idea it had gone so far. As you know, I have always taken Mrs. Wentworth's side in the unhappy differences between her and her husband. This has been no secret. I cannot help taking the side of the woman in any controversy. I have tried to stand her friend, notwithstanding what people said. Sometimes I have been able to help her. But--" He paused and took a long breath, his eyes on the ground. Then, leaning forward, he gazed into her face.
"What would you say if I should tell you that my frequent visits to Mrs. Wentworth's house were not to see her--entirely?" He felt his way slowly, watching the effect on her. It had no effect. She did not understand him.
"What do you mean?"
He leant over, and taking hold of her wrist with one hand, he put his other arm around her. "Lois, can you doubt what I mean?" He threw an unexpected passion into his eyes and into his voice,--he had done it often with success,--and drew her suddenly to him.
Taken by surprise, she, with a little exclamation, tried to draw away from him, but he held her firmly.
"Do you think I went there to see her? Do you give me no credit for having eyes--for knowing the prettiest, sweetest, dearest little girl in New York? I must have concealed my secret better than I thought. Why, Lois, it is you I have been after." His eyes were close to hers and looked deep into them.
She gave an exclamation of dismay and tried to rise. "Oh, Mr. Wickersham, please let me go!" But he held her fast.
"Why, of course, it is yourself."