“Do not attempt to evade the subject,” was the haughty reprimand. “If——”
Mrs. Hamlyn’s sharp speech was interrupted by the entrance of Japhet, bringing in the morning letters. Only one letter, however, for they were not as numerous in those days as they are in these.
“It seems to be important, ma’am,” Japhet remarked, with the privilege of an old servant, as he handed it to his mistress. She saw it was from Leet Hall, in Mrs. Carradyne’s handwriting, and bore the words: “In haste,” above the address.
Tearing it open Eliza Hamlyn read the short, sad news it contained. Captain Monk had been taken suddenly ill with inward inflammation. Mr. Speck feared the worst, and the Captain had asked for Eliza. Would she come down at once?
“Oh, Philip, I must not lose a minute,” she exclaimed, passing the letter to him, and forgetting the pale gold hair and its owner. “Do you know anything about the Worcestershire trains?”
“No,” he answered. “The better plan will be to get to the station as soon as possible, and then you will be ready for the first train that starts.”
“Will you go down with me, Philip?”
“I cannot. I will take you to the station.”
“Why can’t you?”
“Because I cannot just now leave London. My dear, you may believe me, for it is the truth. I cannot do so. I wish I could.”