In the meantime, and for the few weeks in which he did not call, Liddy lived in an agony of suspense. She knew what was going on, for it was current gossip in school, and there was something in his face that seemed to her ominous. In school she tried hard to act unconcerned, even when, as often was the case, other girls whose young and loving hearts were sore, gave way to tears. Each day she smiled and nodded to him as usual; but the smile had grown pathetic, and into her eyes had crept a look of dread. He saw it all, and hardly dared speak to her. Each Sunday eve she dressed herself for his coming and watched the fire while the tall clock ticked in solemn silence. She dreaded to hear her father speak of the war news, and when at school the gossip as to who had or who was going to enlist was referred to she walked away. She grew silent and morose, and clouds were on her face at all times. There were plenty of sad and worried looks on other girls' faces at school during those weeks, so she was not alone in her gloom. Manson had felt that deep down in her heart she cared a good deal more for him than her conduct showed, and to tell her of his intentions before he carried them out would be to subject her to needless days of suspense and possibly affect his own sense of duty. Now that it was all over, she must be the first to be told, and how much he dreaded it only those who have passed through the same experiences can tell. He scarcely slept at all that night, and when he presented himself at her house the next day, just before church time, he looked pale and haggard. It was an unusual thing for him to call at that hour, and when Liddy met him her heart sank. Without any formality he asked her to put on her wraps and take a ride. "I have come to tell you all," he said, "and I can talk better away from the house, and where we are alone." When they were well on their way and driving along the wooded road toward the top of one of the Blue Hills--a lookout point whence all Southton's area could be seen--he turned his face and looked at hers for the first time since starting. What he saw there smote his heart. "It's a nice day for a ride, isn't it, Liddy?" he said pleasantly, trying hard to act natural. Her answer was peculiar. "I can't talk of the day or anything else, Charlie, till I know the worst. Remember, you have kept me in suspense four long, weary weeks. Tell me now as soon as you can." He made no reply, and spoke not another word until they reached the lookout place. In silence he assisted her to alight, and taking the carriage robe, he spread it upon a rock where they had often sat viewing the landscape below. Then he said, in a low voice: "Please sit down, Liddy. I've fixed a nice seat for you, and now I can talk to you." Then their eyes met for the second time since starting. Her face and lips were pale, and her eyes full of fear. She clasped her hands before her face as if to ward off the coming blow.