A train going in the desired direction passed through Cranley at midnight; it was the one Floy must take. Mr. Crosby engaged to procure a ticket for her, and to see her and her luggage safely on board.
Also he advised her of the best mode of procedure on arriving at Clearfield, exacting a promise that she would write to him, giving an account of the progress made, and seeking further counsel if needed, while on his part he engaged to keep her informed of his movements in regard to the settlement of the estate.
“And now,” he said, rising to go, “is there not some lady friend whom I can call upon to come and assist you in your packing or other necessary preparations for this sudden flitting?”
“Oh, yes, thank you! Miss Wells! I know she would come; and if you please, Mr. Crosby, will you tell her it would be the very greatest comfort to me?”
“I will, with pleasure, and I will be here in time to take you to the train.”
CHAPTER XII.
“LOST! LOST! LOST!”
Espy did not go home on leaving Floy; he was in no mood for meeting his father, against whom fierce anger was swelling in his breast. The lad’s ire was not easily roused, but when once kindled it was apt to blaze with fury until it had burnt itself out.
At this moment he felt like one whose hand was against every man, and every man’s hand against him; for had not Floy even, his own darling Floy, cast him off and given her love to some one else? Oh, the very thought was intolerable pain! he had loved her so long and so dearly, and never better than now; and yet he was angry with her, more angry than words could express; angry with himself, too, that he could not cast her out of his heart.