“You must help me to recover her sister.”
“Willingly.”
“You must go with me to the desert.”
“I will.”
“Enough. We start to-morrow.” And he rose, and began to pace the room.
“At an early hour?” I inquired, half fearing that I was about to be denied an interview with her whom I now more than ever longed to embrace.
“By daybreak,” he replied, not seeming to heed my anxious manner.
“I must look to my horse and arms,” said I, rising, and going towards the door, in hopes of meeting her without.
“They have been attended to; Gode is there. Come, boy! She is not in the hall. Stay where you are. I will get the arms you want. Adèle! Zoe! Oh, doctor, you are returned with your weeds! It is well. We journey to-morrow. Adèle, some coffee, love! and then let us have some music. Your guest leaves you to-morrow.”
The bright form rushed between us with a scream.