She had just finished dressing, and had thrown up the window to admit the fresh air, when she saw Austin Warner coming quickly towards their cottage. She was the only member of the household yet astir (even their maid-of-all-work being still in bed); so knowing there was none else to do so, she ran downstairs to open the door.
"What is the matter?" she said, as Austin's pale face told too plainly something was amiss.
"Is Miss Warner ill? Or—"
But he interrupted her courteously but firmly.
"No, no," he said, "they are all well. But there is something wrong. Could I see your father for a moment, Miss Gabrielle?"
"Oh yes," she replied. "But come indoors, and I will get him directly. He is not yet dressed. Is there immediate hurry?"
"There is." And without another word, he followed Gabrielle into the sitting-room, and remained there whilst she went to tell her father.
"Mr. M'Ivor," said Austin, as that gentleman entered the room, "you love my father, I know. For his sake will you help us? Lewis has left his home."
Mr. M'Ivor stood aghast, hardly taking in the full import of the words.
"Left his home!" he repeated. "You don't mean he has run away?"