'Here, Reuben, here; where the devil have you been—take him away. He has terrified her. By —— he ought to be shot.'
The keeper silently slid his arm into Uncle Lorne's, and, unresisting, the old man talking to himself the while, drew him from the room.
Larcom, about to announce Miss Lake, and closely followed by that young lady, passed the grim old phantom on the lobby.
'Be quick, you are wanted there,' said the attendant as he passed.
Dorcas, pale as marble, sighing deeply again and again, her rich black hair drenched in water, which trickled over her cheeks, like the tears and moisture of agony, was recovering. There was water spilt on the table, and the fragments of a broken glass upon the floor.
The moment Rachel saw her, she divined what had happened, and, gliding over, she placed her arm round her.
'You're better, darling. Open the window, Stanley. Send her maid.'
'Aye, send her maid,' cried Captain Lake to Larcom. 'This is your d—d work. A nice mess you have made of it among you.'
'Are you better, Dorcas?' said Rachel.
'Yes—much better. I'm glad, darling, I understand you now. Radie, kiss me.'