“I came back to tell you,” he said, in a voice from which all trace of
his former agitation had passed, “that I relieve you of your promise. It
won't be necessary for you to see--Frida. I thank you all the same, Miss
Trotter,” he said, avoiding her eyes with a slight return to his boyish
manner. “It was kind of you to promise to undertake a foolish errand for
me, and to wait here, and the best thing I can do is to take myself off
now and keep you no longer. Please don't ask me WHY. Sometime I may tell
you, but not now.”
“Then you have seen her?” asked Miss Trotter quickly, premising Frida's
refusal from his face.
He hesitated a moment, then he said gravely, “Yes. Don't ask me any
more, Miss Trotter, please. Good-by!” He paused, and then, with a
slight, uneasy glance toward the pine grove, “Don't let me keep you
waiting here any longer.” He took her hand, held it lightly for a
moment, and said, “Go, now.”
Miss Trotter, slightly bewildered and unsatisfied, nevertheless passed
obediently out into the trail. He gazed after her for a moment, and
then turned and began rapidly to ascend the slope where he had first
overtaken her, and was soon out of sight. Miss Trotter continued her way
home; but when she had reached the confines of the wood she turned, as
if taking some sudden resolution, and began slowly to retrace her steps
in the direction of the pine grove. What she expected to see there,
possibly she could not have explained; what she actually saw after a
moment's waiting were the figures of Frida and Mr. Bilson issuing from
the shade! Her respected employer wore an air of somewhat ostentatious
importance mingled with rustic gallantry. Frida's manner was also
conscious with gratified vanity; and although they believed themselves
alone, her voice was already pitched into a high key of nervous
affectation, indicative of the peasant. But there was nothing to suggest
that Chris had disturbed them in their privacy and confidences. Yet he
had evidently seen enough to satisfy himself of her faithlessness. Had
he ever suspected it before?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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