In vain he sought for occupation or for amusement; his spirit was impatient, his heart was apprehensive. Twenty times in the course of the day, he felt angry with himself for not accompanying Juliet to London--twenty times he felt tempted to send for horses, and follow her as fast as possible.
The day ended at length, notwithstanding all its tediousness, and gladly did he see the following morning break, and the horses brought to the door. The coach went wondrous slow for his impatience, and every stoppage seemed to him an unpardonable crime on the part of the coachman. But the journey, as the tedious waiting of the preceding day had done, and as everything else, whether pleasant or unpleasant, must do, passed away in the end; and towards seven o'clock, he found himself at the door of the hotel.
On his table was a note from Lady Malcolm, very brief, and evidently written in haste. The few words which it contained were as follows:--"My dear Morley, pray come here directly. I have a great deal to talk to you about; Helen Barham too is here, and has promised to stay with and console me."
Morley Ernstein let the note drop out of his hand. "To stay with and console her!--Console her, for what?" he exclaimed. "In the name of Heaven what has happened?" and snatching up his hat, he darted away to Lady Malcolm's, with the speed of lightning, making no answer to the waiter's demand of, "Dine at home to-day, sir?"
At Lady Malcolm's the quiet appearance of everything provoked him. The footman who opened the door presented as calm a face, answered with as easy a tone, and moved with as slow a step, as if everything had gone on in peace and happiness since Noah and his train issued forth from the ark. Morley Ernstein could not affect a tranquillity he did not feel, and while the man was walking up the stairs before him, as if his joints were becoming ossified, the young gentleman suddenly pushed past him, and entered the drawing-room unannounced.
Lady Malcolm was seated quietly at work, and Helen Barham was reading; but, though Morley looked round for the bright angelic face of Juliet, and the less prepossessing one of Mr. Carr, no such objects presented themselves; and the grieved, anxious expression of Helen's countenance, as she raised her eyes and beheld him, told at once that something painful had happened, something which she knew would distress him much.
"Oh, dear, I am so glad you are come!" exclaimed Lady Malcolm, "though I am sure I do not know what is to be done--but you must judge yourself."
"Where is Juliet?" demanded Morley, eagerly interrupting Lady Malcolm--"where is Juliet, dear Lady Malcolm?"
"She is gone," replied Lady Malcolm; "Mr. Carr would take her home with him, in spite of all I could say. I explained the whole to him; and Juliet herself, I am sure, told him all; but he said nothing but 'hum,' and 'ha!' and in reply, when I told him you would be here to-night, he only grumbled that he was sorry, but could not stay."
Morley was agitated far more than lady Malcolm had expected. Love is blind in some respects, and in moments of joy is very dull of sight indeed; but at the first touch of sorrow, comes upon it a prophetic spirit which teaches it to see the evil afar off, and shrink at the anguish that too often besets its path. Morley stood still in the middle of the room, without attempting to take a seat, and looked steadfastly down upon the ground, asking himself what he should do next.