In her diffidence and confusion she continued past him a few steps, and, although he expected nothing less, the fact that she did not recognize or speak to him cut to his heart with a deeper pain than he had yet suffered. With a gesture similar to that which he made when she saw him on the way to prison, he dashed his hat down over his eyes, and drove his saw through the wood with savage energy.
She looked at him doubtfully for a moment, then yielding to her impulse, came to his side. His first intimation of her presence was the scarcely heard tones of her voice mingling with the harsh rasping of the saw.
"Will you not speak to me, Mr. Haldane?" she asked.
He dropped his saw, stood erect, trembled slightly, but did not answer or even raise his eyes to her face. His pain was so great he was not sure of his self-control.
"Perhaps," she added timidly, "you do not wish me to speak to you."
"I now have no right to speak to you, Miss Romeyn," he answered in a tone which his suppressed feelings rendered constrained and almost harsh.
"But I feel sorry for you," said she quickly, "and so does my aunt, and she greatly--"
"I have not asked for your pity," interrupted Haldane, growing more erect and almost haughty in his bearing, quite oblivious for a moment of his shirt-sleeves and bucksaw. What is more, he made Laura forget them also, and his manner embarrassed her greatly. She was naturally gentle and timid, and she deferred so far to his mood that one would have thought that she was seeking to obtain kindness rather than to confer it.
"You misunderstand me," said she: "I do respect you for the brave effort you are making. I respect you for doing this work. You cannot think it strange, though, that I am sorry for all that has happened. But I did not intend to speak of myself at all--of Mrs. Arnot rather, and your mother. They do not know where to find you, and wish to see and hear from you very much. Mrs. Arnot has letters to you from your mother."
"The time shall come--it may not be so very far distant, Miss Romeyn--when it will be no condescension on your part to speak to me," said Haldane loftily, ignoring all that related to Mrs. Arnot and his mother, even if he heard it.
"I do not feel it to be condescension now," replied Laura, with almost the frank simplicity of a child. "I cannot help feeling sympathy for you, even though you are too proud to receive it." Then she added, with a trace of dignity and maidenly pride, "Perhaps when you have realized your hopes, and have become rich or famous, I may not choose to speak to you. But it is not my nature to turn from any one in misfortune, much less any one whom I have known well."