Not another word was uttered by either of them; but Mrs. Dale began to walk so fast that Mabin, whose ankle had not yet recovered all its own strength, found great difficulty in keeping up with her, and Rudolph, who had been ahead of them, had now to drop behind.
It was not until they reached the hill on the top of which “The Towers” stood, that Mrs. Dale’s steps slackened, and her face become again overclouded with doubt and fear.
“Is—she with him? Was she with him when you came away?” she asked in a meek and plaintive little voice.
Mabin had to confess that the dreaded “she” had been with him.
And Mrs. Dale faltered again, and had to be further helped and further encouraged. At last, however, the top of the hill was reached, and “The Towers” came in sight.
But the place seemed to be deserted. No one was at the gates; there was no light at any of the windows. A sense of desolation crept into the hearts of both the ladies as they made their way, with slower steps, toward the house. Rudolph hastened forward to open the gate for them. He went through into the garden, and came out again quickly.
“Mabin,” he said then, putting his hand lightly on her arm, “let Mrs. Dale go in. I want to speak to you.”
Mabin hesitated, for Mrs. Dale was clinging to her arm with an almost convulsive pressure. And then the girl saw that within the garden gates, looking deadly pale in the light of the newly risen moon, “Mr. Banks” was standing. As Mabin disengaged herself from her companion, he came forward, almost staggering, and held out his arms.
“Dorothy! Dorothy!” he whispered hoarsely.
Mrs. Dale uttered a sound like a deep sigh. Then she made one step toward him. But as he approached her, with a pathetic look of love, of yearning in his eyes, she tottered, and would have fallen to the ground if he had not caught her.