"Mr. Dulan," said the servant, reappearing at the door, and Mr. William Dulan followed the announcement.
"You may bring in the light, now," said Alice.
"Will Lady Hilden accept congratulations, offered at so late a period?" said William Dulan, with a respectful bow.
Alice, who had been startled out of her self-possession, replied only by a bow.
"I was about to leave this neighborhood for a short time; but could not do so without calling to bid you farewell, fearing you might be gone to England before I return." William Dulan's voice was beginning to quiver.
"I have no present intention of going to England."
"No? Such a report is rife in the neighborhood."
"One is not chargeable with the reports of the neighborhood."
Alice said this in a peculiar tone, as she glanced at the sorrow-stricken visage of the young man.
A desultory conversation ensued, after which William Dulan arose to take his leave, which he did in a choking, inaudible voice. As he turned to leave the room, his ghastly face and unsteady step attested, in language not to be misunderstood, the acuteness and intensity of his suffering. Alice did not misunderstand it. She uttered one word, in a low and trembling tone: