“Be guided by me, dearest,” she sobbed, in a low, pained voice. “You know how I love you, how I would die if it were necessary to save you from suffering; but don’t—pray don’t ask me to go away from poor father in such a way as this.”
As she spoke a burst of hysteric sobbing accompanied her words, and then, as she raised her tear-blinded eyes, she saw that which filled her with horror. Uttering a faint cry, she threw herself before her brother, as if to shield him from arrest.
Duncan Leslie was standing in the open doorway, and at her action, he took a stride fiercely into the room.
Harry’s back was half turned toward him, but he caught a glimpse of the figure in the broad mirror of an old dressoir, and with one sweep of his arm dashed the light over upon the floor.
The heavy lamp fell with a crash of broken glass, and as Louise stood clinging to her brother, there was a dead silence as well as darkness in the room.
Chapter Forty Eight.
The Plant Aunt Marguerite Grew.
As Duncan Leslie walked up the steep path leading to the old granite house he could not help thinking of the absurdity of his act, and wondering whether Louise Vine and her father would see how much easier it would have been for him to call at Van Heldre’s.