Volume Ii Part 48 (2/2)
”That villain Thorn has got a handle of me which he will not fail to use ? you know it all, I suppose, by this time. It is true that in an evil hour, long ago, when greatly pressed, I did what I thought I should surely undo in a few days. The time never came ? I don't know why he has let it lie so long, but he has taken it up now, and he will push it to the extreme. There is but one thing left for me ? I shall not see you again. The rascal would never let me rest, I know, in any spot that calls itself American ground.
”You will do better without me than with me.
”R. R.”
Fleda mused over the letter for several minutes, and then touched her aunt, who had fallen on a chair, with her head sunk in her hands.
”What does he mean?” said Mrs. Rossitur, looking up with a perfectly colourless face.
”To leave the country.”
”Are you sure? Is that it?” said Mrs. Rossitur, rising and looking over the words again. ”He would do anything, Fleda.”
”That is what he means, aunt Lucy; don't you see he says he could not be safe anywhere in America?”
Mrs. Rossitur stood eyeing with intense eagerness, for a minute or two, the note in her niece's hand.
”Then he is gone! now that it is all settled! ? And we don't know where ? and we can't get word to him!”
Her cheek, which had a little brightened, became perfectly white again.
”He isn't gone yet ? he can't be ? he cannot have left Queechy till to-day ? he will be in New York for several days yet, probably.”
”New York? ? it may be Boston!”
”No, he would be more likely to go to New York ? I am sure he would ? he is accustomed to it.”
”We might write to both places,” said poor Mrs. Rossitur. ”I will do it, and send them off at once.”
”But he might not get the letters,” said Fleda, thoughtfully; ”he might not dare to ask at the post-office.”
His wife looked at that possibility, and then wrung her hands.
”Oh, why didn't he give us a clue?”
Fleda put an arm round her affectionately, and stood thinking; stood trembling, might as well be said, for she was too weak to be standing at all.
”What can we do, dear Fleda?” said Mrs. Rossitur, in great distress, ”Once out of New York, and we can get nothing to him. If he only knew that there is no need, and that it is all over!”
”We must do everything, aunt Lucy,” said Fleda, thoughtfully; ”and I hope we shall succeed yet. We will write, but I think the most hopeful other thing we could do, would be to put advertis.e.m.e.nts in the newspapers ? he would be very likely to see them.”
”Advertis.e.m.e.nts! But you couldn't ? what would you put in?”
”Something that would catch his eye, and n.o.body's else; that is easy, aunt Lucy.”
”But there is n.o.body to put them in, Fleda; you said uncle Orrin was going to Boston?”
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