There was again a silence of a few seconds, during which Mabin, who had only withdrawn a little way, and who was striving to attract the attention of Rudolph, who stood with his back to her, uttered a little cry of pain and distress.
Mr. Banks went on impatiently:
“Where is she? Is she in the house? I must go to her; I must see her!”
Then Lady Mallyan spoke, in a voice which was greatly changed. She seemed to be trying to control some real alarm.
“You cannot,” she said quickly. “She will not see you. She refuses—absolutely. As a gentleman you cannot persist. She is as hard and cold-hearted as ever. She will not see you again. She has gone away.”
At these words, which Mabin heard, the young girl uttered a sharp cry. But “Mr. Banks” did not heed her. He spoke again, in such piteous tones that Mabin and Rudolph, young and susceptible both, felt their hearts wrung.
“Mother, I must see her, I must. Once, once only, I won’t ask for more. Go after her; go after her. Tell her I love her, I love her always. She will not refuse to see me once—before—before I die!”
Mabin waited no longer. Rushing between the mother and son, she panted out:
“I will go. I will fetch her! I will bring her back. And she will come! Oh, she will come! She is not hard. Trust me, trust me, she will come—she shall come.”
She gave him no time for more than a hoarse whisper of thanks, and a murmured blessing. She was off, down the hill, as if on the wings of the wind.