Everett's heart began to beat furiously. Something in the appealing girl attacked him as nothing else had. How slim she looked, how lithe and graceful, and yet so childishly young! He compared her with Ann in rapid thought, and remembered that he had never felt toward Horace's sister as he did toward this obscure girl.
"Come in," he murmured; "we can't talk here. Come in."
"Let me tell you out here in the night," stammered Fledra.
Everett touched her arm, urging her forward.
"They may see us from the Shellingtons'," he said; and, in spite of her unwillingness, he forced her up the steps. Like the wind of a hurricane, a mixture of emotions stormed in his soul. He dared not do as he wished and take the girl in his arms. He checked his desire to force his love upon her, and motioned to a chair, into which Fledra sank. Like shining ebony, her black hair framed a death-pale face. The darkness of a new grief had deepened the shade in the mysterious eyes. For an instant she paused on the edge of tears.
"I don't want to go back with Pappy Lon!" she whispered.
Everett caught his breath. She was even more lovely than he had remembered. Inwardly he cursed the squatters. If he could eliminate them from his plans--but they were necessary to him.
"I don't like none o' the bunch of ye!" Fledra burst out in his silence. Brimbecomb's lips formed a slight smile. The girl pondered a moment, and continued fiercely, "And I hate Ithaca and all the squatters!"
"You speak very much like your father," ventured the lawyer. "I can't understand why you hate him. Your place is with him."
The girl bowed her head and wept softly. She realized that when she was excited she could not remember her English.
"I've been a squatter," she said, forlornly shaking her head, "and I s'pose Pappy Lon has a right to me; but I love--"
"You love whom?"
"Mr. Shellington. Oh, Mr. Brimbecomb, can't ye help me to keep away from Pappy Lon? Can't ye make him see that I don't want to go back--that I can't go back to Lem Crabbe ever?"
"There's no danger of your going to--what did you say his name was?"
"Lem Crabbe--the man with a hook on his arm. I hate him so!"
"I remember seeing him once. I don't think you need worry over going with him. Your father is not a fool."