Hawthorne stopped, looked up, and asked, hoarsely:
"Who is that? Oh, Robert, is it you? What are you doing here?"
"I came to see you, Mr. Hawthorne."
"What can I do for you? Speak quickly, for I'm going—oh, God! where—for I know not where to turn!"
The words were a cry of agony, and as he came up to the side of the sleigh, the youth saw that his face was deathly pale, as if from terrible trouble.
His first fear that Hawthorne was intoxicated gave way to the conviction that something was wrong about Geraldine, and he said, quickly:
"You're in trouble, sir, and I think I can help you if you'll tell me all about it. Get in the sleigh, won't you, and let me drive you wherever you want to go."
"Thank you, Robert. I came on a car, and this is very welcome," said Hawthorne, getting in by the youth's side.
"Where to?" asked Robert, taking up the reins.
"Where? Oh, God, where!" groaned Hawthorne, despairingly. "Wait," he added, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Ah, Robert, this is one of the darkest hours of a life that has had many shadows. I came here to see my betrothed bride, my heart full of joy that has turned to keenest pain, for I found her gone from me—lured away by a scheming villain that she hates—and what her terrible fate may be, God only knows, for I have not a single clew to follow."