“Nothing.”
“That won’t do, Clara. Try again.”
“The heat of the room—”
“That won’t do, either. Say that you choose to keep your own secrets, and I shall understand what you mean.”
Clara’s sad, clear gray eyes looked up for the first time in Mrs. Crayford’s face, and suddenly became dimmed with tears.
“If I only dared tell you!” she murmured. “I hold so to your good opinion of me, Lucy—and I am so afraid of losing it.”
Mrs. Crayford’s manner changed. Her eyes rested gravely and anxiously on Clara’s face.
“You know as well as I do that nothing can shake my affection for you,” she said. “Do justice, my child, to your old friend. There is nobody here to listen to what we say. Open your heart, Clara. I see you are in trouble, and I want to comfort you.”
Clara began to yield. In other words, she began to make conditions.
“Will you promise to keep what I tell you a secret from every living creature?” she began.