It was from Arthur Varian, and ran thus:
“I have thought it all over, darling, and I think the only way for us is to elope to Washington to-night and be married. I do not like to steal a man’s daughter away from him this way, but his obstinacy leaves us no other hope, and as there is really no reason to prevent our marrying, I hope he will soon be reconciled. No doubt, mother will help us to bring him around afterward, she is so very clever. And I shall not let her into the secret of to-night, so that he can not accuse her of connivance in our plans. I will be waiting near your house with a carriage at twelve o’clock to-night, and you must slip out and join me. Then it is only two miles to the station, and away we go on the midnight train to Washington. Keep up your courage, my sweet love, for we are going to be the happiest pair in the world.
“Arthur.”
Cinthia refused to go down to supper, and made a meal of sweetmeats. The hours between dark and midnight seemed endless. She heard her aunt retire to her room at an early hour, and her father later on. The house was wrapped for an hour in profound silence, then she heard the hall-clock chiming twelve.
Cinthia was all ready, even to her hat and jacket, her face pale with eagerness, her heart throbbing wildly. She stepped to the door and turned the knob. Horrors! it did not yield to her touch. They had suspected her and locked her into the room.
An impulse came to her to shriek aloud in her wrath and defiance, and to try and batter down the door and escape; but a timely thought restrained her, and she drew back from the temptation, her eyes flaming luridly, her temper raging.
“They shall not baffle us, the cunning wretches! Arthur, my love, I am coming to you, though the whole world oppose!” she cried, wildly, rushing to the window and throwing up the sash.
It had been snowing steadily for hours, though she did not know it. As she leaned out into the darkness a great gust of wind and big swirling flakes of snow stormed into the room, blowing out the light and clasping her in a cold embrace.
CHAPTER X.
A FEMININE WEAKNESS.
In the small compass of thy clasping arms,