"And to-morrow morning, my dear sir," added Mr. Torrens, with a smile, "I shall come to claim it."
"Good," exclaimed Mr. Howard, locking up the bank-notes and gold in his iron safe. "I give you joy, Mr. Torrens: Mrs. Slingsby, I wish you all possible happiness."
Thus speaking, the attorney bowed his clients out of the office.
Mr. Torrens escorted Mrs. Slingsby back to Old Burlington Street, and then repaired as fast as his horse and gig would take him to his own dwelling, to sit down to an early dinner, and afterwards dress himself for the interesting ceremony of the evening.
But on his arrival at the Cottage, he learnt from the female servant who opened the door, that his daughter Rosamond had left home an hour previously.
"Left home!" ejaculated Mr. Torrens. "But she will return?" he continued interrogatively. "Did she not say that she would return?"
"She desired me to give you this note, sir," answered the domestic.
Mr. Torrens tore open the letter placed in his hands, and read the following impressive lines:—
"Pardon me, dearest father, for the step which I am now taking; but I cannot—cannot support the idea of dwelling beneath the same roof with that lady who is soon to be my mother-in-law. I know that I promised not to desert the paternal home: that promise was given in sincerity—though maddening reflections now render me incapable of keeping it. You are well aware how dreadfully my feelings have been wounded—how cruelly my heart has been lacerated, during the last few hours; and I have struggled against the violence of my grief—I have endeavoured to subdue my anguish;—but the occurrences of last night—the outrage attempted by that villain Jeffreys—the revelation of the terrible secret relative to Sir Henry Courtenay——Oh! my dear father, a mind ten thousand times stronger than that of your unhappy daughter could not endure the weight of all this aggregate of misery! Therefore, sooner that my presence should render my father's house unhappy, I depart thence, hoping to be followed by your blessing! Grieve not for me, dear father—heaven will protect me! From time to time I shall write to you; and should happier days arrive——but of that, alas! I dare entertain no hope at present. To you must I leave the painful task of accounting to my dearest, dearest sister and her esteemed husband for my absence when you see them again. Farewell—farewell, my beloved father! I scarcely know what I have written—my brain is on fire—my heart is ready to burst—my eyes are dimmed with tears."
The servant watched the countenance of her master with evident interest and curiosity as he perused this note.