Adirondack Mountains (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Country homes -- Fiction; Love stories; Neighbors -- Fiction
“Let them pursue,” she said, a stubborn light in her eyes. “I am my
own mistress, Mr. Shaw. They can't take me, willy nilly, as if I were a
child, you know.”
[Illustration: 0082]
“That's quite true. You don't understand,” he said slowly, his back to
her.
“You mean the law? Is it different from ours?”
“Not that. The--er--situation. You see, they might think it a trifle odd
if they found you here--with me. Don't you understand?” He turned to
her with a very serious expression. She started and sat bolt upright to
stare at him comprehensively.
“You mean--it--it isn't quite--er--”
“Regular, perhaps,” he supplied. “Please keep your seat! I'm not the
censor; I'm not even an opinion. Believe me, Miss Drake, my only thought
was and is for your good.”
“I see. They would believe evil of me if they knew I had come to you,”
she mused, turning quite cold.
“I know the kind of people your sister-in-law has at her place, Miss
Drake. Their sort can see but one motive in anything. You know them,
too, I daresay.”
“Yes, I know them,” she said uneasily. “Good heavens, what a fool I've
been,” she added, starting to her feet. “I might have known they 'll
say all sorts of terrible things. They must not find me here. Mr. Shaw,
I'm--I am so ashamed--I wonder what you are thinking of me.” Her lip
trembled and there was such a pleading look in her dark eyes that he
controlled himself with difficulty. It was only by imposing the severest
restraint upon his susceptibilities that he was able to approach her
calmly.
“I can't tell you now--not here--what I am thinking. It is n't the
place. Maybe--maybe you can read my thought. Please--Miss Drake. Look up,
please. Can't you read--oh, there now--I beg your pardon! You come to me
for protection and I--well, don't be too hard on me just yet. I'll find
the time and place to tell you.” He drew away almost as his hand
was ready to clasp hers--all because her sweet eyes met his
trustingly--lovingly.
“Just now I am a poor little reprobate,” she sighed ever so miserably.
“You are very good. I'll not forget.”
“I 'll not permit you to forget,” he said eagerly.
“Is n't the housekeeper a long time in coming?” she asked quickly. He
laughed contentedly.
“We've no reason to worry about her. It 's the pursuers from Bazelhurst
that should trouble us. Won't you tell me the whole story?” And she told
him everything, sitting there beside him with a hot drink in her hand
and a growing shame in her heart. It was dawning upon her with alarming
force that she was exposing a hitherto unknown incentive. It was not a
comfortable awakening. “And you champion me to that extent?” he cried
joyously. She nodded bravely and went on.
“So here I am,” she said in conclusion. “I really could not have walked
to Ridgely to-night, could I?”
“I should say not.”
“And there was really nowhere else to come but here?” dubiously.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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