Manisty followed every word with breathless attention.
'My God!' he said, when she paused, 'my God!' And he hid his eyes with his
hand a moment. Then--
'You knew she had a weapon?' he said.
'I supposed so,' she said quietly. 'All the time she was in my room, she
kept her poor hand closed on something.'
'Her poor hand!'--the little phrase seemed to Manisty extraordinarily
touching. There was a moment's pause--then he broke out:
'Upon my word, this has been a fine ending to the whole business. Miss
Foster, when you came out to stay with us, you imagined, I suppose, that
you were coming to stay with friends? You didn't know much of us; but after
the kindness my aunt and I had experienced from your friends and kinsfolk
in Boston--to put it in the crudest way--you might have expected at least
that we should welcome you warmly--do all we could for you--take you
everywhere--show you everything?'
Lucy coloured--then laughed.
'I don't know in the least what you mean, Mr. Manisty! I knew you would be
kind to me; and of course--of course--you have been!'
She looked in distress first at the little path leading from the fountain,
by which he barred her exit, and then at him. She seemed to implore, either
that he would let her go, or that he would talk of something else.
Pages:
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353