"No, no, stay where you are. I'll be back again in three minutes."
He ran out of the hotel, and walked at his best pace in pursuit of Fanny Euston, who, on her part, was walking with an earnest air, like one whose thoughts were engaged with some engrossing subject. He reached her side, and made a movement to accost her; but she seemed unconscious of his presence.
"Miss Fanny Euston, will you pardon me for breaking in upon your reveries?"
She turned and recognized him, but her smile of recognition was a very mournful one.
"I have stopped you to take my leave,—a good deal more in short hand than I meant it should have been. I shall sail for Europe the day after to-morrow."
"Yes? Is not that a little sudden?"
"More sudden than I wish it were. I am not at all in a travelling humor. I have been too much pressed for time to ride out, as I meant to do, to your father's house."
"We are all in town now. My father came from New Orleans yesterday, very ill."
"I did not hear of it. I trust not dangerously ill."
"He is dying. He cannot live a week."