Don't cry, dear; please me by not crying--don't
talk at all. It's more than I could bear. She is going to
marry some one she has met in a hotel. Take the letter and
read for yourself." Suddenly she broke down over what might
seem a small point. "How dare she not tell me direct! How
dare she write first to Yorkshire! Pray, am I to hear
through Mrs. Theobald--a patronizing, insolent letter like
this? Have I no claim at all? Bear witness, dear"--she
choked with passion--"bear witness that for this I'll never
forgive her!"
"Oh, what is to be done?" moaned Harriet. "What is to
be done?"
"This first!" She tore the letter into little pieces
and scattered it over the mould. "Next, a telegram for
Lilia! No! a telegram for Miss Caroline Abbott. She, too,
has something to explain."
"Oh, what is to be done?" repeated Harriet, as she
followed her mother to the house. She was helpless before
such effrontery. What awful thing--what awful person had
come to Lilia? "Some one in the hotel." The letter only
said that. What kind of person? A gentleman? An
Englishman? The letter did not say.
"Wire reason of stay at Monteriano. Strange rumours,"
read Mrs. Herriton, and addressed the telegram to Abbott,
Stella d'Italia, Monteriano, Italy. "If there is an office
there," she added, "we might get an answer this evening.
Since Philip is back at seven, and the eight-fifteen catches
the midnight boat at Dover--Harriet, when you go with this,
get 100 pounds in 5 pound notes at the bank.
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