"Let there be no explanation to the neighbors or servants. What has passed must rest with the four persons who parted in that library; for this secrecy I trust to you."
I bent my head and tried to speak, but could not. He looked searchingly into my face, and his stern eyes softened a little.
I went up to him, reaching forth my trembling hands; the ache of pain broke away from my heart in a flood of tears. What I said, even a word I cannot recollect; but I have the remembrance of a frail woman standing before that haughty man, with her hands clasped and tears falling down her face like rain. She was eloquent, I know; for the man's face changed gradually, and his eyes grew misty as they looked into hers. But just as an outgush of hope thrilled her heart, a name dropped from her lips—a name that she loathed, and uttered bitterly, no doubt; then all the gentle light left his face, and he was iron again. So the woman went away wounded to the soul, and with limbs that almost refused to support her. She sat up all night watching with the sick girl, while her own heart scarcely beat beneath its load of dull pain.
At daylight, this unhappy creature heard faint noises in the house; but she did not move. Then came the sound of wheels upon the terrace-road; still she sat motionless. You might have shot her through the heart, and she would not have lifted a hand to put back the threatened death.
The sound of those carriage-wheels moving away through the pine grove aroused the beautiful invalid. She started up from her pillow, and throwing out both arms toward the window, cried out,—
"Father, oh, my father!"
No one answered. Her father was gone.
We were alone now—I had no explanations to make. All the family knew that Mrs. Dennison had gone away, and all except Lottie had been informed that Mr. Lee had started on a long tour in Europe. She, good, noble girl, had been so busy caring for Jessie, that the news only reached her after Mr. Lee had been gone some hours. Then she seemed greatly disturbed, and questioned me on the subject in her usual blunt, searching way.
My conversation with Lottie passed in her own room, and I cautioned her against speaking of Mr. Lee in his daughter's presence, telling her truly that no one had an idea how ill her mistress was except ourselves.
There was something more than curiosity on the young girl's mind. I am sure of that, for she was like a wild creature, and seemed frantic to know which way Mr. Lee had gone. But no one could tell her. The coachman saw him take the train for New York, that was all he knew about it; if she wanted to find out, it was not the road Mrs. Dennison had taken. She went the other way—no disputing that. He had taken pains to inquire.