It turned me faint to think of speaking to her; but I plucked up
heart and dragged myself across the few yards between us. As I did
so, I heard the house-door open, and saw Mr. Ranford approaching. He
looked handsome and cheerful, as my mistress had looked that
morning, and at sight of him the blood began to flow again in my
veins.
"Why, Hartley," said he, "what's the matter? I saw you coming down
the lane just now, and came out to see if you had taken root in the
snow." He stopped and stared at me. "What are you looking at?" he
says.
I turned toward the elm as he spoke, and his eyes followed me; but
there was no one there. The lane was empty as far as the eye could
reach.
A sense of helplessness came over me. She was gone, and I had not
been able to guess what she wanted. Her last look had pierced me to
the marrow; and yet it had not told me! All at once, I felt more
desolate than when she had stood there watching me. It seemed as if
she had left me all alone to carry the weight of the secret I
couldn't guess. The snow went round me in great circles, and the
ground fell away from me....
A drop of brandy and the warmth of Mr. Ranford's fire soon brought
me to, and I insisted on being driven back at once to Brympton. It
was nearly dark, and I was afraid my mistress might be wanting me. I
explained to Mr. Ranford that I had been out for a walk and had been
taken with a fit of giddiness as I passed his gate. This was true
enough; yet I never felt more like a liar than when I said it.
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