night. When I returned from my interview with you, I tapped at her
door--in fact, I tapped at it several times during the evening, for
I feared she might be worse--but I got no reply, and supposed she had
retired. No one saw her this morning, except Florine, her maid, and
Peter, the coachman, who drove her to the depot."

"And she went entirely alone?"

"She did from the house. Peter took her in the carriage."

"_From the House!_ But after that?" he asked, eagerly.

"Mr. Trevlyn," she said, coldly, "excuse me."

"I must know!" he cried; passionately grasping her arm; "tell me, did she
set out upon this mysterious journey alone?"

"I must decline to answer you."

"But I will not accept any denial! Miss Lee, you know what Margie was to
me. There has arisen a fearful misunderstanding between us. I must have
it explained. Why will you trifle with me? You must tell me what you
know."

"I do not wish to arouse suspicions, Mr. Trevlyn, which may have no
foundation to rest on. Only for your peace of mind do I withhold any
information I may possess on the subject."

"It is a cruel kindness. Tell me everything at once, I beg of you!"