“Yes,” he said slowly; “it is all true.”
“True that—that you were hurt—that—that—Oh, pray speak! Louise—Louise!”
“Gone!” said Leslie hoarsely, and, sick at heart and suffering, he leaned back against the wall.
“Gone? Louise gone? Gone where?” Leslie shook his head mournfully, and gazed out to sea.
“Why do you not speak?” cried Madelaine. “Can you not see how your silence troubles me? Mr Leslie, what is the matter? You were found hurt—and Louise—gone! What does it mean?”
He shook his head again.
“Where is Mr Luke Vine?” cried Madelaine, turning from him quickly.
“At the house.”
“Then I have come here for nothing,” she cried agitatedly. “Mr Leslie, pray, pray speak.”
He looked at her wistfully for a few moments.