Missy: A Novel

by Miriam Coles Harris

"There is some trouble?" said Mr. Andrews, quietly, looking from one to the other. "Do not be afraid to tell me."

"Let us go up to the house," said Missy, hurriedly, taking a few steps forward with her heavy burden. Mr. Andrews walked silently beside her, looking upon the ground, with an expression not very different from the one he wore habitually, though very different from the one he had just been wearing. Gabby hung behind, looking askance at the two before her, with mingled curiosity and apprehension in her face.

"You need not be afraid to tell me," he said, as they walked on. "Has anything happened? I am quite unprepared, but I would rather know. I suppose I have been telegraphed, if I was needed—"

"I sent the telegrams to your office," said Missy; "the first one at nine this morning. My brother sent the last one. The carriage has been at every train all day."

"It was a strange mischance. They did not know at the office that I was going home in the yacht."

"The servants were so heedless, and they did not even send for us."

"You forget, I do not know," said Mr. Andrews, in a controlled voice, as she paused, in walking as well as in speaking. For her agitation, and the weight of the sleeping child together, made her tremble so that she stopped, and leaned against a linden tree on the lawn, which they were passing.

"Oh, it is hard that it should come upon me," cried Missy desperately, as she looked at him with a strange pair of eyes, leaning against the tree, very white and trembling, and holding the boy to her breast.

"Yes; it is hard," said her companion, "for I know it must be something very painful to move you so. I will go to my house and learn about it there. Come, Gabrielle; will you come with me, child?"

"Oh, stay," cried Missy, as he stretched out his hand to the little girl, and was going away without her, as she began to cry and hang back, taking hold of Missy's dress. "It will be hard to hear it there—from servants. It is the worst news any one could hear. How can I tell you? The poor little children, they are left—alone—to you."