Mrs. Kemble met them at the door. Alarmed at her husband's troubled face, she exclaimed anxiously, "Who is this man? What did he want?"
"Come now, mother, give me a chance to get my breath. We'll close the doors, sit down, and talk it all over."
Mrs. Kemble and her daughter exchanged an apprehensive glance and followed with the air of being prepared for the worst.
The banker sat down and wiped the perspiration from his brow, then looked dubiously at the deeply anxious faces turned toward him. "Well," he said, "I'm going to tell you everything as far as I understand it. Now I want to see if you two can't listen calmly and quietly and not give way to useless feeling. There's much to be done, and you especially, Helen, must be in the right condition to do it."
"Oh, papa, why torture me so? Something HAS happened to Hobart. I can't endure this suspense."
"Something has happened to us all," replied her father, gravely. "Hobart has acted like a hero, like a saint; so must you. He is as well and able to go about as you are. I've seen him and talked with him."
"He saw you and not me?" cried the girl, starting up.
"Helen, I entreat, I command you to be composed and listen patiently.
Don't you know him well enough to be sure he had good reasons—"
"I can't imagine a reason," was the passionate reply, as she paced the floor. "What reason could keep me from him? Merciful Heaven! father, have you forgotten that I was to marry him to-day? Well," she added hoarsely, standing before him with hands clinched in her effort at self-restraint, "the reason?"
"Poor fellow! poor fellow! he has not forgotten it," groaned Mr. Kemble. "Well, I might as well out with it. Suppose Captain Nichol was not killed after all?"