“Leave me, Margaret Nugent. I never wish to look upon your face again. I hate you!”
Theresa rose, with heaving bosom and flashing eyes.
“Go,” she continued, pointing to the door. “Upon that condition only will I keep silence. You have this day dealt me a blow that will be my death!”
Half-frightened, Miss Nugent left the room, and an hour later she quitted the hotel, leaving as an excuse the following, addressed to Sir Harold:
Dear Harold—An urgent telegram from mamma, who is an invalid, obliges me to run down to Ashbourne at once. Let me know of your movements, and always count upon my help if you need it. I have said good-by to Theresa.
Your affectionate cousin,
Margaret Nugent.
In the meanwhile, Annesley had given his orders to Stimson, and gone to Coutts’ Bank to transact some financial business on behalf of Colonel Greyson, from whom he had received various drafts and letters of credit.
While standing at the counter, a gentleman had placed his hand familiarly upon his shoulder and ejaculated:
“Great heavens! Is that you, Sir Harold?”
“You really have the advantage of me, sir,” replied the baronet, with a cold stare.