"Good-bye,--and with the deepest meaning of the word," he said gravely. There was no use in ignoring what lay under the scene.
"Perhaps you'd better get off now, Hugh. You might be carried away in spite of your resolution,--and I should hate to see you carried away against your judgment," she mocked.
"Good-bye," he repeated. Something whirled in his brain.
As Burton watched the train pull out, its jaunty plume of smoke flaunting its scorn of High Ridge, it might have been hard to say whether he was more angry or more miserable. Perhaps each emotion helped to keep the other within bounds. How was he going to break to Miss Underwood the news that Philip had jilted her? That was the plain fact; and with her sensitive pride, her defenseless humility,--oh, it was an outrage. If he ever got a chance at Philip! To woo her for Philip had been irksome enough in the first place. To refuse her for Philip was something he had not undertaken to do.
But that must wait for to-morrow. He had another matter on his hands for tonight; the trap he had set must be sprung.
[CHAPTER XXII]
HENRY TAKES TO HIS HEELS
It was nearing midnight when Burton left his room and strolled out with a cigar. His objective point was Watson's house, and it was by no means necessary to go by Rowan Street to get there. Indeed, it was distinctly out of his way. Nevertheless, that was the way he took. He stopped at the farthest corner of the grounds for a moment, and looked up at the great house hidden among the trees. If he were foolishly indulging in mere dreams, his fancies were suddenly and unexpectedly scattered, for while he looked, one of the windows on the second floor was pushed softly up and a man's form appeared in it for a moment. It was the window to Henry's room. Burton was instantly alert. Henry was to be kept under strict guard. Was it possible that he was trying to make an escape? A moment resolved the doubt, for Henry came again to the window, let himself out with obvious precautions to go softly, and then swung himself into the branches of the oak from which Burton himself had once looked into that room. With a vivid realization of what Henry's escape on this night of all nights might mean, Burton vaulted the fence and ran to the tree. He reached it just as Henry touched the ground.
"See here, this won't do," he began argumentatively.
But Henry was in no mood for argument. With an exclamation of surprise and impatience, he started for the street. But Burton sprang after him and caught his arm.