Part 35 (1/2)
”Let's take a brisk walk, then. It'll do you good--warm you up a little.”
”Yes,” she said weakly.
She went to her room for her hat, and pinning it on before the mirror, started at sight of her face, which had grown very white. She was almost incapable of thought. The hatpin slipped from her cold fingers, and fell to the floor. She stared at it strangely before stooping to pick it up. How could she bear to hear what Smythe had come to tell her! But it was good of him to wait until he could tell her alone.
”Will you go too, Mrs. Huntington?” Smythe said, as Marion emerged from her room.
Claire looked at Marion, and wondered at the whiteness of her face, and the haunted look in her eyes. Nothing had been said, but she saw there was something.
”No, thank you!” she said promptly. ”The house suits me this morning.”
Smythe and Marion walked up the hill toward the tree where Marion had practised shooting. Until they reached it neither spoke.
”Well?” said Marion, turning suddenly on him.
”Sunnysides has got away.”
”And he?” she cried.
”Thrown, but not hurt.”
She stared at him a moment, dazed. Then she threw back her head, and clasped her hands on her breast.
”Oh!” she murmured. ”But how you frightened me!”
Smythe looked at her silently; and presently, when she lowered her eyes, she saw that his face was very grave. But Haig was unhurt, and Sunnysides had escaped. She had prayed for just that.
”What is it?” she cried, leaning forward to clutch his arm.
”He's following.”
”Following?”
”Yes. Alone.”
”Where?”
”Yonder.”
He pointed to the west.
”To the San Luis?”
”Yes.”
”The way they brought him here?”
”No. Sunnysides has taken the trail over Thunder Mountain.”
Her hand fell from his arm. She swayed, as if she would collapse.