CHAPTER XXX.
THE SCULPTOR.
'Her heart, her life, her future,
Her genius, only meant
Another thing to give him,
And be therewith content.'
A.A. Proctor.
By the time Felix could obey Marilda's missive, and entered Cherry's sitting-room, she had come to such a state of mind, that not even his pale, fixed, mournful face was needed to make her lie back in her chair, gazing piteously up at him, murmuring, 'O Felix, what can it be? What has become of him?'
'Marilda has heard from him,' said Felix, kneeling down by her, and holding her hands.
'Heard! Oh, why did she not tell me?'
'She feared to pain you. My poor Cherry, nothing has happened to him; but his debts have come to a crisis, and he is gone off to the Continent. That good fellow, Fernan, is gone after him, to see what can be done for him.'