“Gone to bed, dear.”
“And the servants?”
“In the kitchen. They will not come without I ring. But, Harry—brother—we thought you dead—we thought you dead.”
“Hush! Louie, for Heaven’s sake! You’ll ruin me,” he whispered, as she burst into a fit of uncontrollable sobbing, so violent at times that he grew alarmed.
“We thought you dead—we thought you dead.”
It was all she could say as she clung to him, and looked wildly from door to window and back.
“Louie!” he whispered at last passionately, “I must escape. Be quiet, or you will be heard.”
By a tremendous effort she mastered her emotion, and tightening her grasp upon him, she set her teeth hard, compressed her lips, and stood with contracted brow gazing in his eyes.
“Now?” he said, “can you listen?”
She nodded her head, and her wild eyes seemed so questioning, that he said quickly—