The girl turned from white to crimson.

"I have been in my room," she replied.

"But your clothes are damp, and your hair uncurled--"

"The air is wet, and this great house is as moist as an ice-shed,"
returned the girl, hurriedly. "It is no wonder if my hair is uncurled.
Margie, the--the--Mr. Linmere has not arrived."

"Not arrived! It must be nine o'clock."

As she spoke, the sonorous strokes of the clock proclaiming the hour,
vibrated through the house.

"We have been distracted about him for more than two hours! he should
surely have been here by half-past six! Mr. Trevlyn has sent messengers
to the depot, to make inquiries, and the officekeeper thinks Mr. Linmere
arrived in the six o'clock train, but is not quite positive. Mr. Weldon
went, himself, to meet the seven-thirty train, thinking perhaps he might
have got detained, and would come on in the succeeding train, but he did
not arrive. And there are no more trains to-night! Oh, Margie, isn't it
dreadful?"

Alexandrine's manner was strangely flurried and ill at ease, and the hand
she laid on Margie's was cold as ice. Margie scrutinized her curiously,
wondering the while at her own heartless apathy.

Something had occurred to stir the composure of this usually cool, and