'He has not much heart for his work to-day, uncle,'
'Cry him down; I've a message for him. Or, stop, you'd better go yourself, in case anybody comes to the warehouse. Do you know St. Vincent Street?'
'Yes, uncle.'
'You don't know Fordyce & Fordyce, the lawyers' office, do you?'
'No, but I can find it.'
'Very well; go just now and ask for old Mr. Fordyce. If he isn't in, just come back.'
'And what am I to say to him?'
'Tell him to come here just as soon as ever he can. I want to see him, and there is not any time to lose.'
The girl's lip quivered. A strange feeling of approaching desolation was with her, and her outlook was of the dreariest. If it were true, as the old man evidently believed, that his hour had come, she would again be friendless and solitary on the face of the earth. Abel Graham saw these signs of grief, and a curious softness visited his heart, though he could scarce believe one so fair and sweet could really care for him.
Gladys made the utmost haste to do her errand, and to her great satisfaction was told when she reached the large and well-appointed chambers of that influential firm, that Mr. Fordyce senior would attend to her in a moment. She stood in the outer office waiting, unconscious that she was the subject of remark and speculation among the clerks at their desks, still more unconscious that one day her name would be as familiar and respected among them as that of the governor himself. After the lapse of a few minutes the office boy ushered her into the private room of Mr. Fordyce senior. He was a fine, benevolent-looking, elderly gentleman, with a rosy, happy face, silver hair and whiskers, and a keen but kindly blue eye. He appeared to be a very grand gentleman indeed in the eyes of Gladys.