Richard Watson nodded involuntarily. How could he help approving such words?... And as she went on talking he went on making up his mind about her....
“I always thought that you might have been this ideal friend, for you look so good—but, alas! you dislike me, you run away from me because you think that I am one of those dangerous women of whom there are so many in the world ... and really I am nothing worse than unhappy!”
In the vehemence of his protest Richard stood up abruptly. No! He had never disliked her, nor wished to run away.... He had always felt the most profound respect for the wife of his associate, Torre Bianca. But he confessed that up to that moment he had not known her well.
“There is nothing strange about that. Sometimes people have a speaking acquaintance with some one for years and years, and think they know him ... and suddenly they come really to see into this person’s soul, and discover that he is very different from what they had imagined. For instance, after what you have just said, I....”
He stopped; but his silence and the expression in his eyes gave Elena some idea of the impression her words had produced on him. She too stood up, and coming near him gave him her hand.
“Then ... you are going to be my friend?... the friend I need so much in order to go living?... You are going to advise me, to help me?”
Troubled by her glance the young man stammered a few confused words. But he took her hand and pressed it. Elena welcomed this reply to her request with childish delight.
“How happy I am! You will come to see me every day? You will go out riding with me, you will keep off those tiresome suitors of mine who keep following me around?”
Watson was somewhat surprised by the marquesa’s exuberant joy. He hadn’t promised any of these things, as a matter of fact; but he didn’t dare try to correct his hostess’s impression.
As though she had not the slightest doubt that he would accompany her on her rides she burst out laughing, and said, with a mischievous gleam in her eye,