He groaned dismally as he rose and kissed Mollie good-night.
"Go to your room, Mollie, and let us forget, if we can."
"Ah!" said Mollie, "if we can. Guardy, good-night."
CHAPTER XXV.
MIRIAM'S MESSAGE.
Next morning, at breakfast, Mrs. Walraven did not appear. She was very ill and feverish, her maid reported, and quite unable to leave her bed.
Mr. Carl Walraven heard this sad account of his wife's health with a grimly fixed countenance. He looked as though he had passed a restless night himself, and looked worn and haggard and hollow-eyed in the bright morning sunshine.
Mollie, on the other hand, was blooming and brilliant as the goddess Hebe. Past troubles sat lightly on buoyant Mollie as dew-drops on a rose. She looked rather anxiously at her guardian as the girl quitted the breakfast-room.
"You didn't mention Blanche's illness, guardy. Tea or chocolate this morning?"