"I hope she is well," I ventured, thinking the girl might furnish me with some clue to all this mystery, but she was already at the door.
"Quite well, sir," she said, and the next instant had disappeared.
Another ten minutes elapsed, and then, just as I was thinking seriously of putting on my hat and leaving the house, I heard a step coming down the stair. A moment later Miss Vaughan stood on the threshold.
I had taken it for granted that, relieved of her father's presence, she would return to the clothing of every day; but she still wore the flowing white semi-Grecian garb in which I had first seen her. I could not but admit that it added grace and beauty to her figure, as well as a certain impressiveness impossible to petticoats; and yet I felt a sense of disappointment. For her retention of the costume could only mean that her father's influence was still dominant.
"You wished to see me?" she asked; and again I was surprised, for I had supposed she would apologise for the delay to which I had been subjected. Instead, she spoke almost as to a stranger.
"I had an appointment for this afternoon," I reminded her, striving to keep my vexation from my voice.
"Oh, yes," and she came a few steps into the room, but her face lost none of its coldness. "I had forgotten. It is not to speak of business?"
"No," I said; "it is to speak of your going to friends of Mr. Swain and me—for a time, at least."
"You will thank your friends for me," she answered, calmly; "but I have decided to remain here."
"But—but," I stammered, taken aback at the finality of her tone, "do you think it wise?"