It was many a month since Glynn enjoyed such refreshing sleep as soothed his weary brain that night. To have found Elsie safe, unharmed, even though surrounded by a haze of doubtful circumstances, of painful mystery, was a blessed relief. All must turn out well, while Elsie was the same, untouched, unchanged.
To him she seemed more charming in her grief and terror than in the freshness of her beauty, which first attracted him. Though full of passion, his love was pure and true. To save its object from harm, or spare her suffering, he would even sacrifice himself. Something in the unconsciousness of her manner, her look, her words, warned him to keep the lover in the background for the present,—only for the present,—for deep in his heart he registered a vow to win her if tenderness, and loyalty, and perseverance could. He counted the cost, and decided that in winning her he should win all that would make life worth living. Glynn was not a conventional man. He liked society, but was not its slave. A quiet home, with such a companion, what could be a fairer lot? Would the day ever come when she would let him hold her to his heart, when her soft arms would steal round his neck, and her sweet, sad, tremulous lips return his kisses? Whatever Lambert's circumstances, misdeeds, crimes, Glynn resolved to give his life to the tender, blameless daughter.
He started in good time next day, and spent a long, entrancing, disturbing afternoon with Elsie and her father.
With the latter he had not much private conversation, and in that little Lambert told him he had discovered early in their renewed acquaintanceship that Deering had fallen in love with Elsie, that he knew him to be a daring and unscrupulous man, and that, moreover, he had a very strong hold over Lambert himself, which made it exceedingly difficult to protect his daughter, without running certain risks, and to cut the gordian knot, he determined to hide her. This was so far successful, but the conviction that it was impossible to keep up the game was pressing on him, and with the consciousness of failing health, almost drove him mad.
"May I dine with you tête-à-tête the day after to-morrow? I have much to tell." This request reached Lady Gethin one morning at breakfast, and threw her into a state of delighted anticipation. She despatched a warm invitation, and wrote to decline one or two engagements for that day.
"You are looking a different being," she said, when they had settled into their places for a long talk after dinner. "But what has become of you? I have not seen you for the last ten days. What have you been about? Have you found your young woman?"
Glynn looked straight at her, and to her amazement replied, "I have."
"You are not serious. Here? in famous London town?"
"I have."