Roma read Margaret Wynthrop’s letter, giving the account of Harcourt’s sudden arrival at Lone Lodge, and of his distress at finding the mind of his aged mother failing, even though that failure was attended by a happy hallucination. From the tone of the letter Roma judged that Harcourt had never mentioned his defeated marriage, and that the Wynthrops were ignorant of it.
This circumstance seemed very strange to Roma, and if it did not deepen the mystery of that unparalleled marriage ceremony, it certainly threw no light upon its darkness.
But she would soon see Harcourt, and learn the truth from him, she said to herself, as she laid aside Miss Wynthrop’s letter and set about completing her last preparations for her journey.
In the midst of packing her traveling bag she was interrupted by the entrance of Owlet with her puppy in her arms.
“I thought you were going to read your letter? If I had known you were going to work I would have stayed to help you” said Owlet solemnly.
“I have finished my letter, dear, and now I am only putting up a few things in my bag for use during our journey,” Roma explained.
“Well, then, let me help you. You sit down in your big easy-chair, and I will put George Thomas to bed in his basket. He is very sleepy. And I will bring you all the things you want to pack in the bag,” Owlet insisted. And she laid her pet in his nest, and came and stood before her benefactress in an attitude of attention.
“But I have quite finished now, dear, and there is nothing more to do,” Roma explained.
“Well, if I can’t be useful I might as well be dead,” said Owlet with an aggrieved air.
“Dear child! Why should you say such things?”