“Yes, we have heard the news,” gravely replied Mr. Force.
“I have come to bid you good-by. The mail that brought the news brought dispatches from the navy department ordering our ship home. We sail with the next tide; that will be in an hour. Good-by! good-by!” he said, beside himself with mingled emotions, as he hurried from one to another, taking each in his arms for a last embrace.
“But, Le—this is awfully sudden!” exclaimed Mr. Force, as he wrung the young midshipman’s hand.
“Yes! yes! awfully sudden! Odalite! Oh, Odalite!” he cried, turning to his eldest cousin and once betrothed last of all, as if he had reserved his very last embrace and kiss for his best beloved—“oh, my Odalite! May God love, and bless, and guard you. Good-by! Good-by! my dearest dear!”
And Le pressed her to his heart, and turned and dashed out of the room.
“But, Le! But, Le! Wait! Can we not go to the ship and see you off?” cried Wynnette, hurrying after him, and overtaking him at the street door.
“No! no! Impossible, my dear! A boat is waiting to take me to the ship! I have barely time to reach her deck before she sails! There would be no time for last adieus there! God bless you! Take care of Odalite!”
The street door banged behind Le, and he was gone.
Wynnette had flown downstairs, but she crawled up again, dragging weary steps, “woe befreighted,” behind her.
She entered the room, and sat down in silent sympathy beside Odalite, who lay back in her chair, too stunned by the shock of all that had happened to weep or to moan, or even to realize the situation.