“Yes, I have come all the way from London. Do not be angry with me, Stephen. I—I could not wait any longer. It seemed so long! Why did you leave me without a word? I did not know whether you were alive or dead. Three weeks—think, three weeks! How could you do it?”
“Hush! hush! Do not speak so loud,” he whispered. “Did anyone see you come in?”
“No one. I have been waiting in the shrubs for—oh, hours! I saw the visitors go away—an old gentleman and a young one—and I saw your shadow behind the blind,” and she pointed to the window. “I have been outside waiting, and dreading to knock in case you should not be alone.”
“You—you saw my shadow?” he said, with an uneasy smile. “Did you see—I mean, what was I doing?”
“I did not see distinctly; I was listening for voices. Oh, Stephen, I am so weary!”
He drew a chair for her, and, motioning her to sit, mixed a glass of brandy-and-water, and stood over her holding her wrist and looking down at her with an uneasy smile.
“Now,” he said, taking the glass from her, “tell me all about it—how you came, and why? Speak in a whisper.”
“You don’t need to ask me why, Stephen,” she said, leaning forward and laying her hand upon his arm, her dark eyes fixed on his half-hidden ones. “Why did you leave me so long without a word?”
“I will tell you directly,” he answered. “Tell me how you came—alone! Great Heaven!”
“Alone, yes; why not? I was not afraid. I came by the train.”