Tadman, too
anxious to go on with her accustomed knitting, only able to wring her
hands in a feeble way, and groan every now and then, or from time to time
burst into some fragmentary speech.
"And Stephen's just the man to have such a thing on his mind and keep it
from everybody till the last moment," she cried piteously. "And so many
speculations as there are now-a-days to tempt a man to his ruin--railways
and mines, and loans to Turks and Red Indians and such-like foreigners;
and Steph might so easy be tempted by the hope of larger profits than he
can make by farming."
"But it's no use torturing yourself like that with fears that may be
quite groundless," Ellen said at last, rousing herself a little in order
to put a stop to the wailing and lamentations of her companion. "There's
no use in anticipating trouble. There may be nothing in this business
after all. Mr. Whitelaw may have a fancy for showing people his house. He
wanted me to see it, if you remember, that new-year's afternoon."
"Yes; but that was different. He meant to marry you. Why should he want
to show the place to a stranger? I can't believe but what that strange
man is here for something, and something bad. I saw it in his face when
he first came in."
It was useless arguing the matter; Mrs. Tadman was evidently not to be
shaken; so Ellen said no more; and they sat on in silence, each occupied
with her own thoughts.
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