“Mrs. Varian.”
The address was carefully given, and the man’s face, from anger and distress, changed to keenest joy.
“This is better than I could have hoped,” he cried. “Can you give me some breakfast at once, Rebecca, for I must leave for Washington on the earliest train.”
CHAPTER XVII.
A DEADLY FEUD.
When Cinthia recovered her senses she found herself lying on her bed and the air was heavy with the scent of eau-de-Cologne, with which Mrs. Varian was gently bathing her face and hands.
“Do you feel better now?” the lady gently inquired, and Cinthia mechanically answered:
“Oh, yes.”
In fact her head was aching wretchedly, and her heart was heavy as lead, but she would seek no sympathy from Arthur Varian’s mother, who had turned against her so cruelly.
“I am glad to hear it. Perhaps you will feel like taking breakfast now,” touching the bell.
“Oh, no, no, no!” cried Cinthia; feeling as if she could never swallow a morsel of food again.