“But why is it that you are so late?” she asked, anxiously.
“The cars were delayed three hours by an accident, so instead of arriving in good time, we have come in rather out of order, but not unwelcome, Mabel, I know.”
He did not see her face, or he might have feared that the welcome was not as warm as usual. She answered quickly:
“Why, yes, father, you and mother are welcome at any time of day or night,” and yet she wished she was alone with Howard that moment.
“I told father,” said her mother, looking at the clock, “that it was so late we had better go to a hotel, but he would come, saying, Howard would not mind getting up to give the old folks a welcome.”
“We should have been very sorry to have had you done so. O, here comes Howard,” and the husband of Mabel entered, looking very pale.
“Late hours don't agree with you, my son. What has kept you up so long?”
“Some winged messenger, I suspect, knowing you were coming; but you must be weary,” and he offered the new-comers refreshments from the side board. Mabel, however, had flown to the dining-room and prepared them something more substantial in the way of cold meats, and a cup of tea, which she made in an incredibly short space of time.
It was a relief when she had shown them to their room. She went below and sat alone, hoping Howard would come to her. He had gone into his study, where he sometimes passed a greater part of the night in writing, for he was a lawyer by profession, being a man of more than average abilities, his services were sought for many miles around. Mabel waited, but he came not, and being unable longer to bear delay, she sought him in his retreat.
“Mabel, you ought to be in bed; its now half past one. You will scarce be able to entertain your father and mother, I fear, if you do not go now,” and he resumed his writing.