With the same mechanical movements she opened the drawer to the old secretary, and took from it the picture that Godfrey Cuyler had told her was the face of Lena Mauprat, but she thrust it into the pocket of her coat without a glance at it.
There were one or two souvenirs of "Dad" that she put into her pocket, then turned to take a last view of the room in which she had been comparatively happy.
A sob arose in her throat as she pictured the face of her grandfather—that dear old face that she was never again to see until she met him in the presence of God!
With an unvoiced prayer in her heart, she kneeled and kissed the chair in which he had died, then slowly she arose and approached the door.
One last glance, a bursting sob, and Leonie Cuyler passed from the room forever!
[CHAPTER XII.]
"Neil?"
"Yes, sir."
Andrew Pryor rushed into his library with every appearance of haste and excitement upon his kindly face, his breathing short, his hair seeming to have taken an upward turn.