Then first he perceived
what a change had passed upon her. Pale was she, and thin, and
sad, with such big eyes, and the bone tightening the skin upon
her forehead! He felt as if she were a spectre-Letty, not the
Letty he had loved. Glancing up, she caught his troubled gaze.
"I am not ill, Cousin Godfrey," she said. "Do not look at me so,
or I shall cry again. You know you never liked to see me cry."
"My poor girl!" said Godfrey, in a voice which, if he had not
kept it lower than natural, would have broken, "you are
suffering."
"Oh, no, I'm not," replied Letty, with a pitiful effort at the
cheerful; "I am only so glad to see you again, Cousin Godfrey."
She sat on the edge of the sofa, and had put her open hands, palm
to palm, between her knees, in a childish way, looking like one
chidden, who did not deserve it, but was ready to endure. For a
moment Godfrey sat gazing at her, with troubled heart and
troubled looks, then between his teeth muttered, "Damn the
rascal!"
Letty sat straight up, and turned upon him eyes of appeal,
scared, yet ready to defend. Her hands were now clinched, one on
each side of her; she was poking the little fists into the squab
of the sofa.
"Cousin Godfrey!" she cried, "if you mean Tom, you must not, you
must not. I will go away if you speak a word against him. I will;
I will.--I _must,_ you know!"
Godfrey made no reply--neither apologized nor sought to cover.
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