Amy waited patiently until her aunt should choose to answer.

She waited the more patiently because she was telling herself who it was that had brought that softer light into the face, if, indeed, it were really there.

She was thinking why he had been curious to know the reason that she had come into that room.

She was remembering a hundred little incidents which had revealed his constant interest in all her comings, and goings, and doings; and therefore she started when Aunt Martha, still rocking and sewing, said, quietly, "Why did Lawrence Newt care what brought you here ?" "I'm sure I don't know, Aunt Martha." Miss Amy looked as indifferent as she could, knowing that her companion was studying her face.

And it was a study that companion relentlessly pursued, until Amy remarked that Lawrence Newt was such a generous gentleman that he could get wind of no distress but he instantly looked to see if he could relieve it.
Finding the theme fertile, Amy Waring, looking, with tender eyes at her relative, continued.
And yet with all the freedom with which she told the story of Lawrence Newt's large heart, there was an unusual softness and shyness in her appearance.