"No, no!" replied Emily, exerting herself to speak intelligibly, as she saw that she was not understood. "She has gone away with Mr. Hugo. She came to bid me good-bye, and he was waiting for her outside. I heard him whistle. I know she did not want to go, but she was afraid of him. I will tell you all about it, but oh, do hurry! There may be time."
Mrs. Pomeroy could think faster than about any person in the world, and her calmness increased always in proportion to the emergency. "Delia must be saved, and if possible without exposure," that was her first idea. The next thought was for Emily. She took her up like an infant and laid her in her own bed, and having partially calmed her by a hasty assurance that all should be well, she descended to seek Mr. Fletcher, who was famous for keeping late hours, and whom she expected to find ready dressed. There was a light burning in his rooms, which opened upon the piazza, and Grip was lying upon the sofa, but Mr. Fletcher was not there, and his cap and cloak were no where to be seen. He had evidently gone out.
"Just like him!" said the good lady much disappointed and vexed. "A storm that would keep any other man within doors only seems to offer him an additional inducement to go out. What shall I do now?"
Even as she spoke however, she heard his step on the wet gravel and hastened to the door to meet him. But we must now follow our fugitives.
Delia sat alone in the large empty waiting room at the station, closely veiled, and shrinking from observation every time the only official person then about the establishment cast his eyes towards her. The misgivings had grown more and more intense ever since she left the house, and her feelings now amounted almost to agony, but she saw no escape, for even if she should insist upon returning to the house, she could not get in, as she had fastened behind her the door from which she had made her escape, nor was it very likely that Mr. Hugo would permit her to do so. He had treated her harshly more than once of late, and given way to such fits of rage, as made her tremble before him. She had not consented to the elopement without a severe struggle, and she would have given her right hand to be able to retreat, but it seemed now too late.
Mr. Hugo, who had been talking to the man in the ticket office now returned to her, looking anything but well pleased.
"The train is behind time, Delia," said he. "There has been an accident, and it will not be here for three or four hours—perhaps not till morning. Ah, ma chere, when we are once in France, I will show you very different arrangements from these. But we can never wait that length of time."
"Oh let us go back!" said Delia complainingly. "Let us give it up."
"It is rather too late for that, my timid beauty," returned her companion with a smile, which certainly did not add much to the attractiveness of his features. "Even if you care for nothing else, you must remember that I have risked much for your sake, and I am not likely to give up my prize now that have it fairly in my hands. No, we will not give it up, but we will procure a carriage, and go on to the next station, where we can wait in comparative safety. I go to seek one. Meantime you will remain here. I have told our friend in the office that you are a lady slightly insane, whom I am conveying to her friends, so he will have an eye to your safety."
He smiled again and departed, leaving Delia overwhelmed with terror and despair. She thought at first that she would run home at all hazards, but she saw the baggage master watching her, and she dared not attempt it. He believed her insane, and even if she told him her story, he would not believe her. She covered her face with her hands, and burst into tears of agony, but at that moment, a strong hand was laid on her arm, and a familiar voice said, "Delia!"