At an early hour Mr.
Carrollton had arisen, thinking, as he looked forth from his window,
"She will tell me all to-day," and smiling as he thought how easy and
pleasant would be the task of winning her back to her olden gayety.
Madam Conway, too, was unusually excited, and very anxiously she
listened for the first sound of Maggie's footsteps on the stairs.
"She sleeps late," she thought, when breakfast was announced, and
taking her accustomed seat she bade a servant see if Margaret were
ill.
"She is not there," was the report the girl brought back.
"Not there!" cried Mr. Carrollton.
"Not there!" repeated Madam Conway, a shadowy foreboding of evil
stealing over her. "She seldom walks at this early hour," she
continued; and, rising, she went herself to Margaret's room.
Everything was in perfect order, the bed was undisturbed, the chamber
empty; Margaret was gone, and on the dressing-table lay the fatal
letter telling why she went. At first Madam Conway did not see it; but
it soon caught her eye, and tremblingly she opened it, reading but the
first line, "I am going away forever."
Then a loud shriek rang through the silent room, penetrating to Arthur
Carrollton's listening ear, and bringing him at once to her side. With
the letter still in her hand, and her face of a deathly hue, and her
eyes flashing with fear, Madam Conway turned to him as he entered,
saying, "Margaret has gone, left us forever--killed herself it may be!
Read!" And she handed him the letter, herself bending eagerly forward
to hear what he might say.
Pages:
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266