There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. “Do you mean, aunt,” she asked, “that my father thought I had gone off—with some man?” “What else COULD he think? Would any one DREAM you would be so mad as to go off alone?” “After—after what had happened the night before?” “Oh, why raise up old scores? If you could see him this morning, his poor face as white as a sheet and all cut about with shaving! He was for coming up by the very first train and looking for you, but I said to him, ‘Wait for the letters,’ and there, sure enough, was yours. After all, life had still its pulsations. But I waited in vain. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. ‘And she’s—’ She broke off, a sudden light in her eyes. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused. " Glad to make peace on any terms, Mr. ” She was able to go straight to her room without delay, and she at once locked the door with a little sigh of relief.
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