Nina shook her head, colouring faintly.
“I see. You are afraid of missing Thorpe. I wish there were some way of finding out—”
She turned to him with eager eyes. “Would you go, papa,—to New Orleans? I haven’t dared to ask it. Go and see what is the matter.”
“My child, I could not get there. The ports are blockaded; if I attempted the folly of getting to New Orleans by land, I should probably be shot as a spy. It is for those reasons that he will have great difficulty in getting here, as he did not have the forethought to leave the South in time.”
To this Nina made no reply, and as she would not talk to him, he left her.
That evening Miss Shropshire came into Nina’s room, and spoke twice before she was answered. The room was dark.
“Look here, Nina!” she said peremptorily. “You’ve got to brace up. People are talking. I know it!”
“Are they? What does it matter? I have no more use for them. I may as well tell you I have come to the conclusion that Dudley Thorpe ceased to care for me, and that is the reason of his silence. He has gone back to England.”
“I don’t believe it. You’re growing morbid. Women frequently do after that sort of experience. I remember Beatrix sat in one position for nearly a month, staring at the floor: wouldn’t even brush her teeth. You have too much brains for that sort of thing.”