“Oh, Leo, my child, for Heaven’s sake!” cried Salis.
“For Heaven’s sake!” she cried wildly, as she clung to Dally. “What have you to do with Heaven, who have made my life a curse? Take me, Dally, take me away, for I am almost blind.”
“My poor, darling mistress!” sobbed the little traitress, passing her hand round Leo’s waist, and helping her towards the door, Leo yielding to the girl’s guidance, and keeping her defiant eyes flashing from sister to brother and back.
The door closed, and as Salis and Mary gazed after the retreating pair, a wild hysterical sob, followed by a passionate cry, reached their ears, and it was as if misery and despair were henceforth to be their lot; but at that moment, from the dewy meadow at the bottom of the garden, a lark rose to begin circling round and round, scattering his jubilant, silvery notes of song far and wide on the morning air. And as it proclaimed, as it were, to every listening ear that a new day had begun, hope and light flashed into the hearts of those within the room.
“It will be a hard task, Mary,” said Salis, going down on one knee beside Mary, who clung to him with a look of appeal that went to his heart. “Yes, a hard task, dear,” he said again, as he kissed her. “There, you will not go to bed now, but lie back and have a few hours’ sleep. The darkness of the night has passed, and hope cometh with the day.”
“But Leo—Leo!” moaned Mary, and, unable to contain herself longer, she burst into a passionate fit of weeping.
“Hush! darling. Come: I want my sister’s help. There, fight it down. Hers were the words of a passionate, hysterical woman. She will be penitent when the fit is over. What now?”
“Miss Leo, sir—Miss Leo!” cried Dally, running into the room.
“Well, what, girl?” cried Salis, alarmed by the maid’s frantic, excited look.
“She sent me out of the room, sir, to fetch her cloak.”