"Grey, Zane - Betty Zane" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grey Zane)

Betty did not answer. She sat on the couch while Mrs. Zane held the little
bare foot and slowly poured the hot water over the swollen and discolored
ankle. Betty's lips were pale. She winced every time Mrs. Zane touched her
foot, but as yet she had not uttered even a sigh.

"Betty, does it hurt much?" asked Isaac.

"Hurt? Do you think I am made of wood? Of course it hurts," retorted Betty.
"That water is so hot. Bessie, will not cold water do as well?"

"I am sorry. I won't tease any more," said Isaac, taking his sister's hand.
"I'll tell you what, Betty, we owe Alfred Clarke a great deal, you and I. I am
going to tell you something so you will know how much more you owe him. Do you
remember last month when that red heifer of yours got away. Well, Clarke
chased her away and finally caught her in the woods. He asked me to say I had
caught her. Somehow or other he seems to be afraid of you. I wish you and he
would be good friends. He is a mighty fine fellow."

In spite of the pain Betty was suffering a bright blush suffused her face at
the words of her brother, who, blind as brothers are in regard to their own
sisters, went on praising his friend.

Betty was confined to the house a week or more and during this enforced
idleness she had ample time for reflection and opportunity to inquire into the
perplexed state of her mind.

The small room, which Betty called her own, faced the river and fort. Most of
the day she lay by the window trying to read her favorite books, but often she
gazed out on the quiet scene, the rolling river, the everchanging trees and
the pastures in which the red and white cows grazed peacefully; or she would
watch with idle, dreamy eyes the flight of the crows over the hills, and the
graceful motion of the hawk as he sailed around and around in the azure sky,
looking like a white sail far out on a summer sea.

But Betty's mind was at variance with this peaceful scene. The consciousness
of a change, which she could not readily define, in her feelings toward Alfred
Clarke, vexed and irritated her. Why did she think of him so often? True, he
had saved her brother's life. Still she was compelled to admit to herself that
this was not the reason. Try as she would, she could not banish the thought of
him. Over and over again, a thousand times, came the recollection of that
moment when he had taken her up in his arms as though she were a child. Some
vague feeling stirred in her heart as she remembered the strong yet gentle
clasp of his arms.

Several times from her window she had seen him coming across the square
between the fort and her brother's house, and womanlike, unseen herself, she
had watched him. How erect was his carriage. How pleasant his deep voice
sounded as she heard him talking to her brother. Day by day, as her ankle grew
stronger and she knew she could not remain much longer in her room, she
dreaded more and more the thought of meeting him. She could not understand