“I—I did not know,” faltered Lady Grace, looking after him. “Have I done anything very wrong in coming? I did not stop to think. I was so anxious that I thought I would come up to town——”
“Will you not sit down?” he said, gravely, and he placed a chair for her.
She sank into it, and looked up at him.
“What news is there? Have you heard of her? I can’t tell you how anxious I am! Ah! I see by your face that something has happened! What is it?”
“Yes; I have had news,” he said, in a low voice. “My uncle was right, and you and I were wrong, Lady Grace. Miss Marlowe”—his voice grew grim—“has sailed for Australia.”
“Oh, no, no! But alone?” she breathed.
“No, not alone. She went with this Mr. Garland,” he said, sternly.
She held out her hand to him.
“Oh, I am so sorry! What can I say, dear Lord Neville, to comfort you?”
He smiled wearily.