"Don't ask me, Claude," said Margaret, feeling as if it really had been too bad in her to credit her own eyesight, as well as the assurance of every one she came near.
"And this is what has parted us for two years. Miss Fitzpatrick—but it is all clear now. You are satisfied—you are mine again—say so."
"You are a tyrant, Claude."
"But say it."
"I do say it—there, some one is coming. I must go."
Margaret flew up stairs. The ladies, satisfied that the storm was over, now came out, pale with fear and watching. Harriet's keen eye espied Mr. Haveloc leaning against the door of the conservatory.
"Marius among the ruins of Carthage," said she with a laugh.
"Marius! Mrs. Gage, can you say nothing better for me than that? Will you come to-morrow and fish with us?"
"Well; that is not a bad idea. I can throw a fly in a way that will make you jealous. Can you lend me a fishing-rod?"
"Twenty."