“Then,” said Phil, “you must go at once.”
“I can go to-day,” she answered. “I knew it would come to this, and I am ready to leave London at any moment.”
There was no delay. Her small box was even then ready packed and corded for the journey. She had taken Miss MacDowlas's warning in time. It would not have been like this heavy-hearted wise one to disregard it. She would have been ready to go to Dolly at ten minutes' notice, if she had been in India. She was not afraid, either, of making the journey alone. It was not a very terrible journey, she said. Secretly, she had a fancy that perhaps Dolly would like to see her by herself first, to have a few quiet days alone with her, in which she could become used to the idea of the farewell the rest would come to say. And in her mind the poor little oracle had another fancy, too, and this fancy she confided to Mollie before bidding her good-by.
“Mollie,” she said, “I am going to leave a charge in your hands.”
“Is it anything about Dolly?” asked Mollie, making fruitless efforts to check her affectionate tears.
“I wish you would leave me something to do for Dolly, Aimée.”
“It is something connected with Dolly;” returned Aimée. “I want you to keep constantly on the watch for Griffith.”
“For Griffith!” Mollie exclaimed. “How can I, when I don't know whether he is in England or not?”
“He is in England,” Aimée replied. “He is in London, for Mr. Gowan has seen him.”
“In London—and Dolly in Switzerland, perhaps dying!”