And then I went down-stairs.
I found my dear old lady looking very sad and worn and anxious. I threw myself into her arms and sobbed on her neck.
"What is this, my love?" she said. "Is it a mistake, after all? And whose is the fault? Is it yours, or is it John's?"
"Mine—mine," I cried. "And I am not going to London. But you must not tell John this, because he might think—"
"Think what?" she said smiling.
"Oh, I don't know; but you must only tell him that I have deferred my visit because Miss Leonard," I choked a little over the word, "has pressed me to remain here longer."
She went away smiling and satisfied, and I went wondering back to my room to hear Rachel's story.
I found her standing, as pale as a ghost, at my window, which commanded a view of the approach to the house. Looking over her shoulder, I saw Mrs. Hollingford's black robe disappearing among the trees.
"Now, Rachel," I said—"now for your story. I have done what you bid me. I am going to stay with you. Trust me with everything, I am full of anxiety and wonder."
But at that moment a messenger came to the door seeking Miss Leonard. Mr. Noble was waiting for her to walk with him.