Elizabeth rode forward, without any appearance of excitement, until a grove of trees concealed her from the house; then she put her horse upon the road, and ran him at the top of his speed to the edge of the village.
Once among houses she rode on leisurely again, and stopped at the post office to enquire for letters,—getting down from her horse, an unusual thing with her. There was a telegraph station connected with the post office, and while the man was searching his mail, she took the slip of paper from her glove, and laid it with some money before the operator.
The telegram was directed to that hotel near the Battery, which has already been described.
CHAPTER LVII.
KITCHEN GOSSIP.
The day was passing—that long, terrible day—in which the moments seemed to lengthen themselves into hours, while with every one the gloom about the old house deepened and pressed more heavily down.
Grantley Mellen was in his library still, it had been a busy day with him; it appeared as if every creature within reach who could invent a plea of business had chosen that time to trouble him with it.
He was alone at last, and that was well; he was literally incapable of enduring any farther self-restraint.
He rang the bell and gave strict orders to Dolf: