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Page 34
"She gives me up! Margie renounces me! Strangers we must be henceforth!
What does it all mean? Am I indeed awake, or is this only a painful
dream?"
He read a few lines of the missive a third time. Something of the old
dominant spirit of Archer Trevlyn came back to him.
"There is some misunderstanding. Margie has been told some dire
falsehood!" he exclaimed, starting up. "I will know everything. She
shall explain fully."
He seized his hat and hurried to her residence. The family were at
breakfast, the servant said, who opened the door. He asked to see Miss
Harrison.
"Miss Harrison left this morning, sir, in the early express," said the
man, eying Trevlyn with curious interest.
"Went in the early train! Can you tell me where she has gone?"
"I cannot. Perhaps her aunt, Miss Farnsworth, or Miss Lee can do so."
"Very well;" he made a desperate effort to seem calm, for the servant's
observant eye warned him that he was not acting himself. "Will you please
ask Miss Lee to favor me with a few minutes of her time?"
Miss Lee came into the parlor where Archer waited, a little afterward.
Archer, himself, was not more changed than she. Her countenance was pale
even to ghastliness, with the exception of a bright red spot on either
cheek, and her eyes shone with such an unnatural light, that even Archer,
absorbed as he was in his own troubles, noticed it. She welcomed him
quietly, in a somewhat constrained voice, and relapsed into silence.
Archer plunged at once upon what he came to ascertain.
"The servant tells me that Miss Harrison left New York this morning. I
am very anxious to communicate with her. Can you tell me wither she has
gone?"
"I cannot. She left before any of the family were up, and though she left
notes for both her aunt and her business agent, Mr. Farley, she did not
in either of them mention her destination."
"And she did not speak to you about it?"
"She did not. I spent a part of last evening with her, just before you
came, but she said nothing to me of her intention. She was not quite
well, and desired me to ask you to excuse her from going to the opera."
"And you did not see her this morning?"
"No. I have not seen her since I left her room to come down to you last
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!"
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