"I will go alone," said the general.
"No, no—I must see him! You are sure we have time to catch our train—if we should miss it—" and the thought gave her a sudden feverish energy.
"You need not hurry," her father assured her.
"But look at your watch!" she entreated.
"We have half an hour," he said.
"You can think of nothing more to do?" she asked, after another brief silence.
"Nothing, dear."
Little was said until they boarded the train, but in the drawing-room of the Pullman which her father had been able to secure, Elizabeth's restraint forsook her, and she abandoned herself to despair. Her father silently took his place at her side. Oppressed and preoccupied, the sting of defeat unmitigated, he was struggling with the problem of the future. The morrow with its hideous tragedy seemed both the end and the beginning. One thing was clear to him, they must go away from Idle Hour where North had been so much a part of Elizabeth's life. Nothing had been added to this decision when at length the train pulled into Mount Hope.
"We are home, dear," he said gently.
