Mr. Dimmerly looked with surprise at his nephew's pale face,—a surprise that was greatly increased as the young man seized his hat and coat, and said in a husky tone, "I am going to New York for some days," and sprang into the sleigh and was driven away.
"Well," said the old man, testily, "if she 'stopped' him as easily as that, he deserves to lose her."
And Mrs. Marchmont, seeing Hemstead depart so silently, congratulated herself that she had escaped a scene after all, and complacently thought, "These things can be 'stopped' if taken in time, notwithstanding brother's sentimental nonsense."
As poor Lottie's mind emerged from its chaos into connected thought, she speedily came to the conclusion to tell Hemstead the whole truth, to condemn herself more severely than even he could in his anger, and to ask his forgiveness.
But when she raised her tearful face to speak, he was gone.
She heard the sound of bells. A sudden fear chilled her, and she sprang to the window and saw a vanishing form that she dreaded might be his. Without a word to Mrs. Marchmont, she rushed down to the lower hall, where she found Mr. Dimmerly fuming about.
"Where is Mr. Hemstead?" she asked, eagerly.
"What the deuce is the matter? What have you sister been saying that Frank should come down here white as a sheet?"
"But where is he?" she asked again, in a tone that her uncle had never heard her use before.
"Gone to New York for several days," he said.