Amboyne exchanged an approving glance with Jael, and Raby concluded the letter.
“I shall be home in a few days after this; and, if I find my darling well and happy, there's no great harm done. I don't mind my own trouble and anxiety, great as they are, but if any scoundrel has made her unhappy, or made her believe I am dead, or false to my darling, by God, I'll kill him, though I hang for it next day!”
Crushed, benumbed, and broken as Grace Coventry was, this sentence seemed to act on her like an electric shock.
She started wildly up. “What! my Henry die like a felon—for a villain like him, and an idiot like me! You won't allow that; nor you—nor I.”
A soft step came to the door, and a gentle tap.
“Who is that?” said Dr. Amboyne.
“The bridegroom,” replied a soft voice.
“You can't come in here,” said Raby, roughly.
“Open the door,” said the bride.
Jael went to the door, but looked uncertain.