"Alas. But she never did."
"And you can not guess; you have no clue to help us unravel this mystery?"
Constance shook her head.
"Con., oh, Con., you don't think—you can't think that she loved that—that beast?"
"No, Evan, I can't think that."
"Then," excitedly; "you must think as I do; that there is a mystery; that there has been foul play. Con., I don't care for anything on earth, except Sybil; I must know what has driven her to this; I must help her; I can help her; I can take her from that brute."
His face was livid, and his eyes glowed with the fierce light that we have seen in the eyes of his elder brother. Constance saw the growing excitement, and sought to soothe it.
"Evan, let us not anticipate," she said, gently. "All that we can do for Sybil shall be done, but it must be with her consent. When does your father come?"
"I don't know," sullenly; "I telegraphed him Saturday; he will come to-day, no doubt. But he will come too late."
"Alas, yes; I regret so much that it was for my sake he was absent from home at such a time, and Frank, too."