Her little heart was bruised and sore. The night had begun so happily: it had ended so wretchedly.
And to think the one person in whom she trusted had been just amusing himself with her, leading her to believe he was a farmer—"less than that" he had once said, and all the time he was a man of breeding and of birth and of title.
Poor Peg felt so humiliated that she made up her mind she would never see him again.
In the morning she would go back to the one real affection of her life—to the min who never hurt or disappointed her—her father.
CHAPTER XII
A ROOM IN NEW YORK
We will now leave Peg for a while and return to one who claimed so much of the reader's attention in the early pages of this history—O'Connell.
It had not been a happy month for him.
He felt the separation from Peg keenly. At first he was almost inconsolable. He lived in constant dread of hearing that some untoward accident had befallen her.