"Oh! very well. I will tell him so; but you will miss shaking hands with him, as he is going away."
This time Anne succeeded. Frances' face expressed the utmost astonishment, while her cheeks paled to an almost marble whiteness.
"Going away!" she gasped. "How? When?"
"How? By the train I suppose. When? Now this moment. You had better come at once if you wish to see him."
She followed Frances to the dining-room, and stood at the window while she went up to the fire where Charles stood. Anne watched them.
He turned his face, still with the same gloomy, despairing expression, towards Frances and said a few words. What were they to cause her pale face to flush so hotly, while a proud, triumphant look shone brightly in her eyes? Anne would have given worlds to have heard them, certain as she was they contained some clue to the mystery shrouding his hasty departure.
They were said, those few words, and he moved towards the door. Frances followed him after an instant's thought, and arrested his footsteps, slow and uncertain as they were. Anne could hear quite plainly now.
"One moment, Charles. I am so sorry you are going," said Frances.
"Never mind," he replied, "it is best I should go."
"I suppose so. I suppose you must go?"