But I couldn't be consoled. "I suppose it was a dream," I wept. "But it's true; I know it is. I know something has happened—something terrible."
"Well, let's hope it hasn't," soothed Jim. "What could happen in the middle of the night? It's a quarter to three. We can't do anything till morning. Then, if you still feel anxious, I'll take you over to the Manor in the car as early as you like. That is, I will if you're good and do your best to go to sleep again now."
How I adored him, and how sorry I was for Rosemary because a black cloud obscured the brightness of her love, which might have been as sweet as mine!
I couldn't sleep again as Jim wished me to do, but he comforted me, and the dark hours passed. As soon as it was light, however, I bounded up, bathed and dressed, and Jim did the same for the sake of "standing by"; which was silly of us, perhaps, because it would be hardly decent to start before half-past nine. If we did we should reach the Manor at an absurd hour, especially as Ralston and Rosemary were lazy creatures, even now, when he was rejoicing in this new lease of life. She hated to get up early, and he liked to do what she liked.
"If anything had been wrong, I think we should have got a telegram by this time," said Jim, as he tried to make me eat breakfast. "You know how quickly a wire is delivered at our office from Merriton, and——"
At that instant a footman appeared with a brown envelope on a silver tray. It was addressed to "Lady Courtenaye," but I asked Jim to open it and read the message first.
"Rosemary has—gone," he told me. "Murray asks if, by any chance, she has come here. There's a 'reply-paid' form; but he wants us to run over to him if we can."
Jim scrawled an answer:
Deeply regret she is not here. Will be with you shortly.
and sent it off by the post-office boy who waited, though it was probable that we should see Murray before our response to his question reached him.