Mildred Greswold.”
She packed the letters securely in one of the large banker’s envelopes out of her father’s desk. She sealed the packet with her father’s crest, intending to register and post it with her own hands on her way to Romsey; and then, with a heart that beat with almost suffocating force, she consulted the time-table, and tried to match trains between Reading and Basingstoke.
There was a train from Chertsey to Reading at five. She might catch that and be home—home—home—how the word thrilled her! some time before midnight. She would have gone back if it had been to arrive in the dead of night.
CHAPTER X.
MARKED BY FATE.
It was nearly ten o’clock when Mildred drove through the village of Enderby, and saw the lights burning in the familiar cottage windows, the post-office, and the little fancy shop where Lola had been so constant a purchaser in the days gone by. Her eyes were full of tears as she looked at the humble street: happy tears, for her heart thrilled with hope as she drew near home.
“He cannot withhold his forgiveness,” she told herself. “He knows that I acted for conscience’ sake.”
Five minutes more and she was standing in the hall, questioning the footman, who stared at her with a bewildered air, as the most unexpected of visitors.
“Is your master at home?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am, master’s in the library. Shall I announce you?”
“No, no—I can find him. Help my maid to take my things to my room.”