"Miss Lina—is it Miss Lina I am to call?" stammered Agnes, taken by surprise.
"It is Miss Lina that I wish to see; have the goodness to call her."
The courteous but peremptory voice in which this was said, left Agnes no excuse for delay; and, though racked with curiosity, she was obliged to depart on her errand.
The General sat down the moment he was alone—and shrouding his forehead, lost himself in painful thought.
The door opened, and Lina came in, smiling like a sunbeam, and rosy with assured happiness. "Did you send for me, General?" she said, drawing close the chair in which the old man sat. "Is there something I can do that will give you pleasure. I hope so!"
The General looked up; his eyes were heavy—his face bore an expression she had never witnessed in it till then. He looked on her a moment, and she saw the mist melting away from his glance, and it seemed to her that his proud lip began to quiver.
"Have I offended you?" inquired Lina, with gentle regret. "What have I done?"
The old man arose, and laying a hand on each of her shoulders, bore heavily upon her, as he perused her face with an earnestness that made her tremble. He lifted one hand at last, and sweeping the heavy curls back from her brow, gazed sadly and earnestly down into her eyes. Those soft blue eyes, that filled with tears beneath the sad pathos of his gaze.
"Lina!" His hand began to tremble among her curls. He bent his forehead down, and rested it on her shoulders sighing heavily.
"Tell me—do tell me what I have done," said the gentle girl, weeping; "or, is it Ralph? Oh, sir, he cannot have intended to wound you!"