He rose and came and leaned on the piano, I felt—oh! I had never been so agitated in my life. At all costs he must not say anything to me, nothing that I should have to stop, nothing to break this beautiful dream—
"Oh! do you not hear the sound of carriage-wheels?" I exclaimed, in a half voice.
It broke the spell.
Antony walked to the window. He pulled the curtains aside and opened a shutter to look upon the night.
"It is the thickest fog I ever remember," he said. "I doubt if the brougham, which put up at the station, could get back here, even if they have come by the last train."
"Oh! of course they have come!" I said, unsteadily.
He did not answer, but carefully closed the shutter again and drew the
curtains. I went to the fireplace and began caressing one of the dogs.
My hands were cold as ice. Antony lost a little of his sang-froid.
He picked up a paper-knife and put it down again.
It seemed to me my heart was thumping so loudly that he must hear it where he stood.
We both listened intently. Neither of us spoke. Eleven o'clock struck.
The butler entered the room.
"Bilsworth has managed to get here on one of the horses, Sir Antony, and he says the last train is in, and no one arrived by it."