"He would not free you?" he said, compassionately.
"No."
"Well, then, he must be compelled to," said Mrs. Dale, energetically; "we are not going to stand by with folded hands, and see the remainder of your life made wretched by a weak, vain, frivolous thing like that. You have had trouble enough in the past, heaven knows."
"Yes, we must act; we must endeavor to interview the woman," he said sympathetically, preparing her for what might occur.
"I fear your kind efforts in my behalf will prove useless, Alec. You would only ascertain that she is some poor creature whose heart he has gained, but who is not bound to him in any way. She is faithful, where he is false," she says, gravely, "and is breaking her heart for him—a way we have—that is all. No, 'Blessed are they who expect nothing,' I must keep well in my mind for the future. I scarcely deserve this from Fate, for I have been pretty brave hitherto through troubles, that at the time were sufficient to crush all hope, leaving not the faintest gleam; but I struggled through the clouds in my sky, which, finally parting, I saw the sunbeams once more. My plan now is, to close up this my home, sweet home, or ask you, Ella, or Mr. Cole, to take it off my hands for a year. It would please me best to know some one I care for was among my little treasured belongings."
"Mr. Cole, Charlie's father is at the Tremont Hotel, Jacksonville, Florida. My plan is to ask Miss Crew (as you don't require her services, and her mind is easier as to money matters), to accompany me for the remainder of the winter to the same place as my friend Charlie's father; he is a most worthy man and a gentleman. At the close of winter we would cross to the British Isles. To myself, a Canadian, it would be a complete distraction, as I have never been across; and I pray fervently, will take me out of self," she said sadly. "We would visit London and some pretty rural spots, the Devonshire lanes, perhaps; and then the Emerald Isle, thence to bonnie Scotia's shores; taking, perhaps, more than a peep at fair Dunkeld," she says, trying to smile in the grave face of Mr. Blair. "I have foreseen the result of my appeal to Philip, and so have been laying my plans for some days."
As she spoke, trying vainly to hide her emotion, more than one tear had been stealthily brushed away by her sympathetic little friend, who, seeing that Mr. Blair is suffering intensely, from suppressed feeling, says bravely, though rather doubtful at heart:
"Mark my words, Elaine, that woman will free you; say good night to us, Mr. Blair, I am medical attendant pro tem., and Elaine must take a sedative, and room with me to-night."
"You are right, Mrs. Dale; be brave, Elaine," he says, holding her hand in his firm grasp, "to-morrow your clouds must again pass. I shall come in after luncheon."