“I am glad to hear that she is ill,” he thought, “though I would not be surprised to find the child of such a father perfectly heartless.”
He began to give up all hope of seeing Lady Elaine as the evening advanced and she did not appear. The earl was not particularly cordial, and he had no pretense for prolonging his stay.
Luckily, he encountered my lady’s maid in one of the passages, just when he was fuming savagely, and bade her tell her mistress that he desired a few words with her.
“That is,” he added, a little considerately, “if she is well enough to see me. I will wait in the west drawing-room.”
Lady Elaine came much sooner than he had expected, a world of anxiety and suffering in her face.
He stepped forward swiftly and took one of her hands between his, thinking, “Poor child! How I have misjudged her!”
“I did not know that you were here, Colonel Greyson,” Lady Elaine said, faintly. She sat down and looked at him pleadingly.
“You have no news for me?”
“None,” he replied, sadly. “I came here to-day to see if you—if you cared at all.”
“If I cared!” she echoed. “Do you not see that my heart is breaking; that this horrible suspense will kill me? The papers are full of cruel things, and if I have sent my darling to his death, I have no further wish to live.”