“Oh, pray do not apologize!” exclaimed Evangeline, with a half-frightened air, seeming to feel the long-desired clue to her sister slipping through her fingers. “Miss Wilton when in town resides in the next dwelling to this, but that young lady, with her papa, has been for some long time away from London. She cannot possibly know anything about Miss—Miss”—she looked at his card—“Miss Clinton’s sudden departure, I am sure.”
“Or the causes which have led to it?” he asked, with rather a marked emphasis.
She gave an inquiring look into his face and said—
“You told me you had a letter?”
“Ay,” he said, with bitterness, “so written, as to acquaint me with my sister’s purposed departure—to drive me half distracted; and to bid me live upon the shadowy hope that she will some day see me again.”
“She will—she will!”
“She shall—she must. I will not rest until I find her.”
“And Helen with her?”
“To be sure; if, as I suppose, they are yet together.”
“They are surely together—you believe they are together, do you not?”