“Where’s Violet?” he demanded, as he burst into the drawing-room and startled his gentle old friend out of a mild little doze in her arm-chair.
Miss Letty gazed at him affrighted.
“My dear Dick! What is the matter? Violet is out. She has gone to the theatre with some friends.”
The Major sank into the nearest chair with a groan.
“Then it’s all up!” he said. “She will hear everything before she gets home!”
Miss Letty gazed at him, hopelessly bewildered.
“Hear what? You alarm me, Dick! Is anything wrong?”
And she trembled from head to foot as she laid a hand pleadingly on his arm. He looked up at her, and saw how nervous she was,—how her slight worn old frame shook with the agitation she sought to repress, and he at once cursed himself for his impetuous brusquerie.
“What a brute I am to frighten you!” he said, getting up as quickly as he had sat down, and taking her hand tenderly in his own. “Come back to your chair, Letty,—sit down,—there now!—don’t tremble so! You will want all your strength to help Violet, poor child! That d——d Nugent has run off with Lord Wantyn’s wife—the low rascal! If I ever get hold of him I will——”
He stopped, silenced by a gesture from Miss Letty’s trembling hand.