She was silent for a moment or two, as she asked herself whether she should tell this good friend of hers all that had happened on that fateful night; but she felt that she could not do so. The secret did not belong to her.
"He may come back," she continued, in a low voice. "And if he should, and you see him, will you give him a message that was left with me for him. It is just, 'It is all right.'"
"Certainly," said Mr. Clendon, without the least sign of curiosity, though his piercing eyes had been watching her face. "Will you write to me, and tell me how you get on at—what is the name of the place?—ah, yes, Thexford?"
"Why, of course I will. I will write and tell you everything," said Celia, promptly, gratefully.
"And if it should not suit you, and you are not happy there, you will tell me frankly?"
"Oh, yes; for you will still be my mascot, will you not? But I am sure to be happy. I love books. I shall be in Devonshire, and I shall be earning all this money. Mr. Clendon, I am the very luckiest girl in the world."
"And the best, I am sure," he said, gently. "Now, I will go down to the bank with you, if you will let me, and see that you get this money all right."
This was the last straw. She could not keep back her tears. She hurried into her coat and hat, and they went out together. As they descended the stairs, they happened to pass the little chorus girl and the grim old lady, and Celia could not help nodding and smiling at them. The chorus girl smiled back, and even the grim old lady's frown relaxed as she bowed in stately fashion.
"I'm so happy, that I could shake hands with everybody," said Celia. "I feel as if I must make friends with everyone I meet."
Then suddenly the happiness fled from her face, her eyes grew dark and sad; for at that instant she thought of the young man, the fugitive flying from justice. Where was he? What was he doing? Oh, if he would only come back and get the message!