CHAPTER XLIII.
TRAPPED.
No sooner had the carriage door closed, than Kitty began to question her companion about the accident to her father. Hugo replied with evident reluctance—a reluctance which only increased her alarm. She began, to shed tears at last, and implored him to tell her the whole story, repeating that "anything would be better than suspense."
"I cannot say more than I have done," said Hugo, in a muffled voice. "You will know soon—and, besides, as I have told you, there is nothing for you to be alarmed at; indeed there is not. Do you think I would deceive you in that?"
"I hope not," faltered Kitty. "You are very kind."
"Don't call it kindness. You know that I would do anything for you." Then, noticing that the vehemence of his tone made her shrink away from him, he added more calmly, "you will soon understand why I am acting in this way. Wait for a little while and you will see."
She was silent for a few minutes, and then said in a subdued tone:—
"You frighten me, Hugo, by telling me that I shall know—soon; that I shall see—soon. What are you hiding from me? You make me fancy terrible things. My father is not—not-dying—dead? Hugo, tell me the truth."
"I solemnly assure you, Kitty, that your father is not even in danger."