"What does this mean? Where are you going at this time of night, and in this storm?"
"I am going to my fate, whatever it is," replied Delia in a whisper which had more of despair in its tones than many a shrill scream of anguish. "I have risked a great deal to see you once more, but I felt that I must bid you good-bye. You may tell Mrs. Pomeroy every thing to-morrow. I have left a letter for her on my table, and something for you. God bless you, Emily, whatever becomes of me." She kissed Emily again, and would have gone, but Emily still held her.
"But what—what is it?"
"I am going to be married to Mr. Hugo. We shall leave here in the twelve o'clock train. I will write to you from the first stopping place."
She forcibly extricated her dress from Emily's grasp, and as the door closed behind her, Emily sank back insensible. How long she remained so she did not know, but she recovered her senses at last, and collecting her thoughts with a desperate effort, she turned up the gas, and looked at her watch. It wanted yet ten minutes to twelve, but she knew that the railroad time was faster than hers, and the train might be—probably was—already gone.
No matter! There was a chance, a bare chance it was true, but still a chance of saving her friend, and she must try it at all hazards. She must call Mrs. Pomeroy, and tell her the whole story. As she came to this resolution, she fancied she heard the whistle of the train, and without stopping to put on even her shoes, she ran through the halls and knocked at Mrs. Pomeroy's door.
Mrs. Pomeroy was up, and she opened the door at the first summons, greatly wondering who beside herself could be awake at this hour, for she generally out-watched every one in the house but Mr. Fletcher. Her astonishment was changed to terror, as she beheld Emily bare-footed and in her night-dress—as she said afterward, it was the nearest she had ever come to seeing a ghost.
"Good heavens, my child, what is the matter?" she exclaimed.
"Oh, Mrs. Pomeroy, save Delia!" was the burned reply. "Do not stop a moment, or it will be too late. Never mind me. Oh, do go!" she repeated in agony.
"But what is it, love? You must have been dreaming. Delia has been safe in bed these two hours."