Again she read the letter through. This time slowly, word by word, sentence by sentence, as though she would weigh its meaning carefully and judicially. When she had finished, she had apparently made up her mind. She rose to her feet, and took a step towards the door, but she was unable to proceed further. Her brain whirled, she felt herself falling. Clutching the back of the chair she held herself for a few seconds, then, as if by a sudden effort of will, she controlled herself. Then she walked across the room steadily, opened the door, and went downstairs slowly. Her face, even to her lips, was still ashy pale, and in her eyes was a stern set look. There was no sign of weakness in her movements, and yet she looked as though she had been stunned. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked slowly around her, as though she were not quite sure of her whereabouts. There was a dazed expression in her eyes, which suggested the look in the eyes of a sleep-walker.
Again she seemed to make a sudden effort, and then she walked to the library door and opened it. John Castlemaine looked up at his daughter's entrance, and was startled by her appearance. He was sitting in an armchair, smoking a last pipe before going to bed.
"Olive, my darling, what is the matter? Are you ill?" he asked tenderly.
She tried to speak, but could not; then she moved towards him, and threw herself into his arms, while John Castlemaine held her, as he had held her years before, when she was a baby.
The next morning Radford Leicester woke early. Contrary to his expectations, no sooner had he placed his head on the pillow the night before than he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. After the excitement of the evening, nature demanded rest, and so she wrapped her kindly arms around him, as if she desired to be specially kind to him just then. When he awoke he could not for a time realise where he was; but the truth soon came to him. He remembered, too, that it was the morning of his wedding-day. His heart gave a leap as the thought came into his mind, and then to stay in bed any longer was an impossibility. He dressed with great care, now and then looking out of the window, and noting with satisfaction the blue of the skies and the sweetness of the air.
"Only a little while longer," he said again and again to himself. "I wonder how she will look as she walks up the church aisle on her father's arm?"
The wedding arrangements had been discussed several days before, and everything was settled in due order. When Leicester had been asked whom he wished to invite to the wedding, he did not mention a single name.
"No one at all?" John Castlemaine had said.
"No one," replied Leicester. "I have no real friend on earth, neither man nor woman. Yes, I have a lot of acquaintances, but I do not wish them to come to my wedding. My father died five years ago. I can scarcely remember my mother. As for all the rest of the world—no, I do not wish to invite any one."