"Wait a few minutes for Ma-Lila. Father, if I can not persuade Mr. Noel to abandon his journey, you must be sure to meet me when he telegraphs you and leaves me. I am inexpressibly unhappy, but if you will forget the last three years, and love me as in the dear old days, it will comfort and gladden me."
The clock chimed nine. Near the foot of the stairway Mr. Herriott waited, and when he came forward the almost unearthly beauty of Eglah's face made his heart throb with vague apprehension. It wore a rapt expression of supreme exaltation, as if a somnambulist walked with eyes fixed on some goal beyond a yawning black chasm.
Drawing her arm from her father's, she stepped to Mr. Herriott's side and laid her hand in his.
CHAPTER XXI
The fast vestibuled train, forty minutes late, swung northward at a speed that kept the car in a quiver. There were few passengers, asleep in their berths, and Mr. Herriott had secured the drawing-room. It was new, luxurious in appointments, and to the end of the brass rod supporting the lamp in the centre he had fastened a great sheaf of white carnations, sent by Mrs. Whitfield. Closing the sliding door that opened into the sleeper, he sat down beside the figure clad in a dark-blue cloth suit.
"I am so insanely happy I dare not pinch or shake myself, lest I should wake and find it only a heavenly dream."
He took one of her remarkably beautiful hands, which he had always admired, and where he had placed a broad, heavy band of gold four hours before. Spreading the cold fingers on his warm palm, he lifted them against his cheek, brushed them with his mustache.
"Lovely little snowflakes; how long I have coveted their touch! And now they are absolutely my very own. Mine forever."
She had been leaning back, but straightened, braced herself, and her breathing was deep and rapid.