"Gone!" With this she tore open the letter, and seemed to grasp its general sense in a glance. "A duel! I suspected—from what Philip said. Oh, my God, was he—?" She scanned the writing wildly, but in her excitement it conveyed nothing to her mind.
"Captain Falconer will not annoy you again," I said, "and Philip and I must go to France for awhile. Good-bye! Let mother and Fanny see the letter in half an hour."
"But wait—thank God, he's not hurt!—France, you say? How? Which road?"
She was holding my coat lapel, to make me stay and tell her. So I answered:
"By post to Hastings; there we shall get the Doughty boys to—"
At this, there broke in another voice from above stairs—that of Fanny:
"Is that Bert, Madge dear?"
"Tell her 'no,'" I whispered, appalled at thought of a leave-taking, explanations, weeping, and delay. "And for God's sake, let me—ah, thank you! Read the letter—you shall hear from us—God bless you all!"
The next moment I was speeding from the house, leaving Madge in a tumult of thoughts at the door. I turned into Gerrard Street without looking back; and brisk walking soon brought me to the Strand, where Philip himself was just ready to take the post-chaise.
"A strange thing delayed me," said he, as we forthwith took our seats in the vehicle; which we had no sooner done than the postilions set the four horses going and our journey was begun.