“Mr. Sinclair sent me,” pleaded Bessie; “he is very anxious to speak to you; he begs that you will come downstairs. He thinks that there is some mistake.”
“No, there is no mistake,” replied Edna slowly; “you may tell him so for me.”
“Why not tell him yourself, Edna?”
“Because I have had enough of Mr. Sinclair’s company this morning. Because nothing would induce me to speak to him again. I thought I had locked my door to prevent intrusion; but I suppose I forgot. Please give him my message that there is no mistake—oh, none at all.”
Bessie hesitated, but another look at Edna’s face showed her that any entreaty at this moment would be in vain, so she went out of the room without another word.
Mr. Sinclair was standing just where she had left him; he looked at her anxiously. Bessie shook her head.
“She will not come,” she said sorrowfully.
“Will not? Did she give no reason—send no message?”
“Only that there was no mistake; she repeated that more than once. Perhaps she will change her mind in a little while.”
But Mr. Sinclair did not seem to hear her.