Never had the bright, kind young face been
lovelier in its artless happiness than it appeared at the moment when
she was shaking hands with Zack.
Just as Valentine was about to follow his guest out of the room, Mrs.
Blyth called him back, reminding him that he had a cold, and begging
him not to expose himself to the wintry night air by going down to the
door.
"But the servants must be going to bed by this time; and somebody ought
to fasten the bolts," remonstrated Mr. Blyth.
"I'll go, sir," said Mrs. Peckover, rising with extraordinary alacrity.
"I'll see Master Zack out, and do up the door. Bless your heart! it's
no trouble to me. I'm always moving about at home from morning to
night, to prevent myself getting fatter. Don't say no, Mr. Blyth,
unless you are afraid of trusting an old gossip like me alone with your
visitors."
The last words were intended as a sarcasm, and were whispered into
Valentine's ear. He understood the allusion to their private
conversation together easily enough; and felt that unless he let her
have her own way without further contest, he must risk offending an old
friend by implying a mistrust of her, which would be simply ridiculous,
under the circumstances in which they were placed.
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