‘I am,’ she answered, with a dreadful fear at her heart. She felt that some messenger of evil tidings stood before her.
‘I thought so; I felt sure that you would be sitting up for him,’ murmured the other softly.
‘Where is he? Is he ill? Why does he not come home?’ gasped Margaret.
‘He is not ill, but he cannot come home. Let me in, and I will tell you all.’
With a gentle pressure, for Margaret’s instinct was to oppose her, the visitor made her way into the house. ‘Let me see you quite alone,’ she said; ‘somewhere where we cannot be interrupted. I have news for your private ear—I am sorry to say, bad news.’
‘And who are you?’ Margaret’s voice was antagonistic, almost defiant. She resented this woman’s coming beyond all measure, but the fear within her compelled her to listen to what she might have to say.
‘I am Mrs. Jordan,’ was the quiet reply.