The valet kissed the girl. "Good-bye, my love," he said. "I think you had better have trusted me. Good-bye."
"Good-night, or good-bye, if you prefer it, Mr. Capt," replied the lady's maid with dignity.
"Good-bye, my dear, good-bye, till we meet again."
Hephzibah hurried into the house.
The valet continued his walk up and down the little terrace; he was immersed in thought, he still smoked his cigar, but unconsciously; he was suddenly roused from his reflections by the fire almost touching his lips. With a curse, he flung the end into the waters, and watched it disappear with a hiss. Then he walked briskly into the house.
The next morning Mr. Capt had disappeared. There was nothing wrong with the plate. On the carefully arranged breakfast table lay an envelope directed to Mrs. Haggard; it contained the man's account book, balanced to a farthing; a small sum of money due from him to his mistress, and his keys.
"What does he mean by this?" said Lucy to her cousin.
Mrs. Haggard made no answer, but turning to Hephzibah, she said coldly, "Where is Capt?"
"Please, ma'am, I don't know; he's taken his things with him, and I think he is gone. I hope there is nothing wrong," said the girl, her pale face working with suppressed emotion.
Then Mrs. Haggard fainted.