Smith was startled; he had not anticipated this resolute strength in a creature so young and child-like. Did she see Daniel Clark, he knew that all was lost to those whose interest it was to keep the husband and wife asunder. He attempted to dissuade Zulima from her plan, but this he saw only excited her suspicion without in the slightest degree changing her. All the answer that she made to his arguments was, “I will see my husband; I must have proof of these things!”
Smith would have urged his objections further, but they were interrupted. The room in which they sat was a parlor to which others might claim admission. Just then the door opened, and a young gentleman entered with the easy and confidential air of an old acquaintance. He cast a glance at Zulima, seemed surprised by the terrible agitation so visible in her face, and then fixed his penetrating eyes searchingly upon Smith.
“You do not seem well,” he said, approaching Zulima, and Smith could detect that in his voice which ought to have startled Zulima long before. “Has any thing gone amiss?” and he cast a stern look on Smith.
“I am not well!” said Zulima, and tears came into her eyes.
“But you seem worse than ill—you look troubled.”
Zulima lifted her eyes up with a painful smile, but made no answer.
The young man looked distressed; he stood a moment before Zulima, and then walking toward a window, began to drum on the panes with his fingers, now and then casting furtive glances toward the sofa where Zulima and Smith were sitting.
Smith arose to go. A new gleam of light had broken upon him—he saw and understood more than that fated young creature had even guessed at.
“Then you are determined to undertake this journey?” he said, in a low voice.
“Yes!”