"O, just come up to her room and see for yourself."
"Why, what's to be seen there?" he asked.
"Nothin' at all, I tells ye. Missus clean gone. Her door wide open, and she never slept in her bed last night, massa," said the woman, gasping for breath, as she ceased speaking.
The unusual sounds aroused Wayland, who slept near, and flinging open his door he demanded what was the matter.
"O, Master Morris!" said aunt Eunice, turning her discourse upon him, "missus gone—clean gone."
"Come on, Morris," said Lester. "Eunice says her mistress is spirited away. Let's dive into the mystery and see what we can bring to light."
Wayland followed Lester up the hall stairs, wondering what this strange disturbance might import. They traversed the passage to Miss Mary's apartment, when, sure enough, as Eunice had affirmed, they found the door wide open, and, to appearance, no person had occupied the room the previous night. Lester's quick eye instantly marked, what the servant in her fright had failed to notice, the absence of two large trunks that used to stand beside the bed, and the presence of a small folded billet on the dressing-table. He advanced with a hasty step, broke the seal, and read.
"Ha, ha!" laughed he, as he run over the contents. "Eunice, go below and light the fires."
The woman hastened away.
"Romance at thirty-seven! elopement extraordinary, Wayland!" he continued. "Miss Mary Lester has become in due form Mrs. Col. Edmunds, and 'fled,' as she expresses it—(now where was the use in flying, for who would have objected to the marriage? But then 'twas romantic, of course)—to the wilds of Texas; there to enjoy the sweets of domestic felicity with her adored husband; to which fair land she hopes I'll some day come to visit her, when I have regained possession of my senses, and learnt the difference 'twixt canary-birds and wild-cats."