All these plans went to pieces when the men unexpectedly chose Marsten as secretary of their Union. It was a contingency the manager had not counted upon, but he faced the new position of affairs without a murmur against fate.
Marsten thought his dismissal harsh and unjust, but he felt that it freed him from all consideration towards Sartwell. He now determined to meet the girl whenever and wherever he could; so, with this purpose strong in his heart, he went to Wimbledon, boldly presented himself at the front door, and asked to see Miss Sartwell. He knew her father did not dare tell her the true state of the case, and, if it came to that, permission to visit the house had already been given in Edna’s own presence,—a permission which her father had probably not withdrawn when Marsten left them together in the garden, as such withdrawal would necessitate explanations which Sartwell would not believe it wise to make. Therefore, the young man resolved to see the girl, tell her frankly why he came, and plead his cause with her. Even if she refused to listen to him, he would at least cause her to think of him, and that of itself was worth risking something for.
The servant, on opening the door, recognized Mar-sten as the young man who on a former occasion did not know his own mind, and she promptly said to him: “Mr. Sartwell is not at home.”
“I wish to see Miss Sartwell.”
“The young lady is not at home either.”
“Will she return soon?”
“I don’t know. Miss Edna’s gone away.”
“Gone away?” echoed Marsten, visibly perturbed at this unexpected check in his advance.
The servant saw she was face to face with another case of mental indecision; so she promptly grappled with the situation by calling Mrs. Sartwell, who was in the dining-room: then, turning the embarrassed young man over to her mistress, she closed the door and returned to the more important work which Mars-ten’s knock had interrupted.
“You wished to see Miss Sartwell?” began the lady, icily. “Why?”