“Oh, my bracelet!”
“What is it? Have you lost it?” inquired Doris.
“Yes; I must have dropped it while I was in the hammock! I’ll go back——”
“No; I’ll go!” said Doris, and she ran back.
She had almost reached the spot where they had been sitting, when, with a start, she saw in the starlight, a man lying full length on the grass, with his face hidden on his arm. It was Percy Levant. He sprang up at the sound of her footsteps, and confronted her, and Doris saw that his face was pale and haggard, so different, indeed, to its usual bright and careless expression, that she felt a shock of distress and almost fear.
“Mr. Levant!” she said, falteringly; then she recovered herself. “I have come back for Lady Despard’s bracelet,” stooping down and looking about her, to give him time.
“It is here,” he said, picking it up.
“Thanks!” she said. “Good-night!”
“Wait! Will you wait a moment?” he asked, and his voice, usually so soft and musical, sounded hoarse and strained.
Doris stood, silent and downcast, and waited for him to go on.