Part 37 (2/2)

”Undoubtedly.”

The critic waited a minute.

”Do you think they are married?” he asked.

Roseleaf closed his eyes, as a terrible pain shot across them. He wondered dimly why this fellow should delight in uttering things that must cause suffering. Gouger deliberated whether to say more, but thinking that he had left the right idea in the young man's mind for the purpose he had in view, he softly withdrew from the chamber and left the house. When Roseleaf looked up again, some minutes later, he was alone.

Mr. Weil's hand was grasped feebly by the owner of Midlands, when he came into the presence of the gentleman. Though completely exhausted Mr.

Fern had not been able to sleep. He listened wearily while his caller suggested possibilities to account for his daughter's absence, but could not agree that any of them were probable. When the idea was broached of communicating with the police he shrank from that course, but finally admitted that it must be adopted, if all else failed. In answer to a hundred questions he could only say that he had no idea of anything that could make her absence voluntary.

”She loved her chosen husband devotedly,” said the old man. ”When she hears what I have to tell her she will hold a different opinion.”

”Then,” said Archie, ignoring the latter expression, ”she must either be the victim of an accident, a fit of aberration, or--”

He could not bear to finish the sentence, but the father bowed in acquiescence.

Lunch was served and Mr. Weil sat down to it, trying by his example to persuade Mr. Fern to take a few mouthfuls. Neither of them had any appet.i.te, and the attempt was a dismal failure.

”I leave everything to you,” said the host, as Mr. Weil prepared to take his departure. ”You are the truest friend I ever had, and whatever you decide upon I will endorse. But I have an awful sinking at the heart, a feeling that I shall never see my child alive. Do you believe in premonitions? I have felt for weeks that some misfortune hung over me.”

Before Mr. Weil could reply a servant entered with a telegraphic message that had just been received. Tearing it open hastily Mr. Fern uttered a cry and handed it to his companion:

”I am alive and uninjured. Look for me to-morrow.--Daisy.”

A gush of tears drowned the exclamations of joy that the father began to utter.

”Alive!” he exclaimed. ”And will be home to-morrow! Ah, Mr. Weil, hope is not lost, after all. But why, _why_ does she leave me in my loneliness another night? Is there any way in which you can explain this mystery?”

Mr. Weil confessed his inability to do so. He tried, however, to show the father the bright side of the affair, and bade him rest tranquil in the certainty that only a few hours separated him from the child he adored. When Daisy came home she would explain everything to his satisfaction. In the meantime he ought to indulge in thankfulness for what he had learned rather than in regrets.

”Go to bed and get a good rest,” he added. ”I will make a journey to the telegraph office in the city and see if it is possible to trace this message. If I learn anything I will ring you up on the telephone at once. And remember, if you do not hear from me, there is a proverb that no news is good news. Daisy has promised to come home to-morrow. This is something definite. An hour ago we were plunged in despair. Now we have a certainty that should buoy us up to the highest hope.”

Catching at this view of the case, Mr. Fern consented to seek rest and Mr. Weil took the next train to the city. Engaging a carriage he bade the driver take him with all speed to Mr. Roseleaf's residence.

Notwithstanding the harsh manner in which he had been treated by his late friend, he wanted to be the first to inform him that Daisy had been heard from. He was smarting, naturally, under the imputation upon his own honor, and felt that the telegram in his hand would at least remove that suspicion.

”I couldn't help coming again, s.h.i.+rley,” he said, when he was in the presence of the novelist. ”I know, despite the cruel manner you have a.s.sumed, that you still love Daisy Fern and will be glad to hear that she is safe from harm. Here is a telegram that her father has just received, stating that she is well and will be at home to-morrow.”

His face glowed with pleasure as he held out the missive, but darkened again when Roseleaf declined to take it in his hand. The young man had not moved, apparently, from the chair in which he had been seen three hours before, and his expression of countenance was unchanged.

”Does she say where she pa.s.sed the night--_and with whom_?” he inquired.

”No. But she says she is well and will return. Is not that a great deal, when we have feared some accident, perhaps a fatal one?”

The novelist uttered a sneering laugh.

”My G.o.d, s.h.i.+rley, why do you treat me like this!” exclaimed Mr. Weil, excitedly. ”I have been your friend in everything, as true to you as man could be! If I had done the dastardly thing of which you accuse me, why should I come to you at all? I could have taken my bride and gone to the other end of the earth. We need not have adopted these contemptible measures. But although I _did_ care for this girl--more than I ever cared or ever shall care for another--I knew it was _you_ she loved and I did all I could to aid you in your suit. Have you forgotten how I brought her here, as you lay in that very chair, and removed the misunderstandings that had grown up between you? As G.o.d hears me, I have no idea what caused her absence last night! I am going now to the telegraph office to trace, if possible, the message and find where she is at present, for I want to relieve her father's mind still more.”

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