Chapter Twenty Six.
“Ah!”
“How horrible!” the curate said, when he heard the news from North, who came in at breakfast time.
As he spoke these words, Leo entered the room, and stopped short, gazing from one to the other.
She had come down looking happy and contented, with a satisfied smile upon her curved lips, heightened by a rather mocking light which danced in her eyes, as they encountered those of the doctor. There was a feeling of triumph, the satisfaction of a vain, weak woman at the sight of the slave ready to cast himself at her feet, and her manner was coquettish as she held out her hand.
But her brother’s ejaculation, the stern look on the doctor’s face, chilled her, and she stopped short, looking from one to the other, her lips parting as if for the utterance of words which would not come.
“What is it?” she said at last, wildly. “What is horrible?”
“Hush, Leo!” said the curate, taking her hand; “don’t be alarmed.”
“But you said—”
“Yes; North has brought in terrible news from the Hall.”