Kitty had turned very pale. "What have you done?" she asked. "How can I forgive you if I do not know what to forgive? Pray get up, Hugo; I cannot bear to see you acting in this way."
"How can I rise till I have confessed?" said Hugo, seizing one of her hands and pressing it to his lips. "Ah, Kitty, remember that it was all because I loved you! You will not be too hard upon me, darling? Tell me that you love me a little, and then I shall not despair."
"But, I do not love you; I told you so before," said Kitty, trying hard to draw away her hand. "And it is wicked of you to say these things to me here and now. Where is my father? Take me to him at once."
"Oh, my dearest, be kind and good to me," entreated Hugo. "Can you not guess?—then how can I tell you?—your father is well—as well as ever he was in his life."
"Well?" cried Kitty. "Then was it a mistake? Was it some one else who was hurt? Who sent the telegram?"
"I sent the telegram. I wanted you here."
"Then it was a trick—a hoax—a lie? How dare you, sir! And why have you brought me here? What is this place?"
"This place, Kitty, is Netherglen."
"Netherglen!" said Kitty, in a relieved tone of voice. "Oh, it is not so very far from home."
Then she turned sharply upon him with a flash in her eye that he had never seen before.