"I'm rather tired," said Agnes; "but I am going to have some supper now."
But before she sat down to it a telegram from the office was brought in.
"Something's wrong, miss," said Maria, seeking Agnes. "Mr. Benson, he guv' a sort of a screech when he read it,—nasty thing,—and he says, says he, 'Send Miss Denham to me,' says he. I can't think why folks ever go sending them ugly yellow telegrams about, frightening people."
Agnes did not listen to this tirade, she never imagined that a telegram for Mr. Benson could affect her. Strangely enough she did not think of Ralph, she was so tired, and her evening had been so full of pressing trivialities.
But upon her entering Mr. Benson's room, that gentleman came towards her, telegram in hand, looking so full of sorrowful compassion that a cold thrill ran through her at once.
"What is it, sir?" she faltered.
"My dear young lady, there is some very sad news come. I want you to help me in breaking it to your poor mother. I am deeply grieved to tell you that the Pelican of the North has been burnt at sea."
"Oh, Mr. Benson! And Ralph?"
Her white lips could hardly utter the words.
"The crew and passengers left her safely, but the boat in which Ralph was is missing."