We returned to Honeysuckle Cottage, where we found Miss Murray calmly wondering to Abby "what could have become of the dear child."
Cornelius inquired at what hour the stage-coach passed through Ryde.
"Half-past nine, Sir," replied Abby.
"Margaret, get ready," said Cornelius, looking at his watch, a present of my father's.
I went upstairs with Abby, who dressed and brought me down again in stately silence.
"It shall be attended to, Mr. O'Reilly," gravely observed Miss Murray to
Cornelius, as we entered the parlour.
He heard me, and, without turning round, said quietly, "Margaret, go and bid Miss Murray good-bye, and thank her for all her kindness."
"Will you not also give me a kiss?" gently asked Miss Murray, as, going up to her, I did as I was bid, and no more.
I looked at Cornelius; the meaning of his glance was plain. I kissed Miss Murray. She drew out her handkerchief, wished for a niece instead of a nephew, then shook hands with Cornelius, and, sinking back after a faint effort to rise, she rang the bell.
Abby let us out. Cornelius quietly slipped something in her hand, then looked at me expressively.