She received him with unusual kindness, and with a kind of sympathy in her manner that puzzled him.
After a little pause, while eyeing him closely, she said,
'You have seen this morning's paper, I presume?'
'Yes,' said he, and his heart seemed to flutter, as it was evident that she had seen something therein that he had not.
'Did you not see the announcement of——'
'Of what?' he asked, impetuously, as Mrs. Trelawney paused, her lips apparently unable to tell to what she referred, and with tremulous hands she took up a morning paper and searched for a particular paragraph or passage, while Goring felt his heart sickening, as he never doubted it referred to the marriage of Alison, who, he feared, had yielded to her father's iron influence at last.
'Read this—but nerve yourself first, my dear friend,' said Mrs. Trelawney, in her sweet low voice.
'It is confidently asserted that the English yacht reported as having been sunk some weeks ago in a midnight collision with the lugger Le Chien Noir, of Ostend, off the mouth of the Maese, is Lord Cadbury's beautiful brigantine the Firefly, so well known at the Cowes Regattas. Sir Ranald Cheyne of Essilmont and suite were on board.'
He grew deadly pale and reeled, but, recovering, read the fatal paragraph again and again, till the letters seemed photographed on his brain, and he was scarcely conscious. Mrs. Dalton, as we must call her now, was in tears, and had taken his left hand caressingly between her own.
'Shocked as I am by this news, which I trust in heaven may be untrue, I am shocked,' said she, 'to be first to break it to you; but you must have learned it in time, and perhaps even more abruptly, and from those less able to sympathise with you.'