“It was to tell you that I released you. I love Raffles Haw, and I was to have been his wife. And now it is all gone. Oh, Hector, I hate you, and I shall always hate you as long as I live, for you have stepped between me and the only good fortune that ever came to me. Leave me alone, and I hope that you will never cross our threshold again.”
“Is that your last word, Laura?”
“The last that I shall ever speak to you.”
“Then, good-bye. I shall see the Dad, and go straight back to Plymouth.” He waited an instant, in hopes of an answer, and then walked sadly from the room.
CHAPTER XV. THE GREATER SECRET.
It was late that night that a startled knocking came at the door of Elmdene. Laura had been in her room all day, and Robert was moodily smoking his pipe by the fire, when this harsh and sudden summons broke in upon his thoughts. There in the porch was Jones, the stout head-butler of the Hall, hatless, scared, with the raindrops shining in the lamplight upon his smooth, bald head.
“If you please, Mr. McIntyre, sir, would it trouble you to step up to the Hall?” he cried. “We are all frightened, sir, about master.”
Robert caught up his hat and started at a run, the frightened butler trotting heavily beside him. It had been a day of excitement and disaster. The young artist's heart was heavy within him, and the shadow of some crowning trouble seemed to have fallen upon his soul.
“What is the matter with your master, then?” he asked, as he slowed down into a walk.