She never ventured to say any thing to her sister on the subject,
however. There was a gulf between the two that widened like a river,
hour by hour.
Toward evening a letter came from the boarding-house, directed to
Professor Valeyon. It was in Abbie's handwriting, and must contain some
news of Bressant. The old gentleman shut himself up in his room, the
better to deal with the intelligence, and the paper rustled nervously
in his fingers as he read; but the news amounted to little, after all.
"For fear dear Sophie and you should feel anxious about Mr. Bressant, I
will tell you all I know of his absence," said the letter. "A telegram
came for him yesterday morning about ten. Joanna, the servant, who took
it up to him, says Mr. Reynolds told her it was from New York. So I
suppose some friend there--you will probably be able to say who--has
been taken very dangerously ill, or perhaps is dead. The summons must
have been very urgent, for he left his room not ten minutes afterward,
and took the half-past ten o'clock train down.
"I feel sure he will be back by to-morrow evening. Don't let your
daughters fail to be here to meet him."
After reading this, and without pausing to indulge in casuistry,
Professor Valeyon betook himself straight to Sophie's chamber.
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