Yes; Amy lay on the sofa, quiet and motionless with scarcely any sign of life on her pale, sad face, while onward, onward, faster and faster still, rode Charles Linchmore.
Would they ever meet again; and how?
CHAPTER V.
DEFEAT.
"Art thou then desolate Of friends, of hopes forsaken? Come to me! I am thine own. Have trusted hearts proved false?
Why didst thou ever leave me? Know'st thou all I would have borne, and called it joy to bear, For thy sake? Know'st thou that thy voice hath power To shake me with a thrill of happiness By one kind tone?—to fill mine eyes with tears Of yearning love? And thou—Oh! thou didst throw That crushed affection back upon my heart. Yet come to me!"
"'Tis he—what doth he here!" Lara.
The great bell rang out at the lodge gate, and Charles Linchmore dashed up to the Hall almost as hastily as he had left it, and with scarce a word of greeting to the old butler, whom he passed on his way to the drawing-room, and never staying to change his dress, he strode on, all flushed and heated as he was, with his hurried journey and desperate thoughts, until he stood face to face with Mrs. Linchmore.