"All this must end to-day," I said, "when really clothed and in my right
mind." I requested writing-materials and more light to work by, and
composed myself to write to Dr. Pemberton (once again, I knew, in
Philadelphia), and request his assistance and protection in getting home
safely, and, if need be, in tracing Captain Wentworth.
"I suppose Captain Van Dorne has been too busy to call," I observed,
carelessly, as I prepared to commence my letter, "and Mrs. Raymond too
happy, probably, in getting safe to shore and her lover, to think of
me."
"They have both inquired for you," said Mrs. Clayton, as she arranged
pen, ink, and paper, before me, with her usual precision, while a grim,
sardonic smile lingered about her features; "several have called, but
none have been admitted."
"Who have called, Mrs. Clayton? Give me the cards immediately. I must,
must know," I rejoined, eagerly, pausing with extended hand to receive
them.
"Oh, there were no cards, and such as want to see you can come again.
There, now! write away, and never trouble your mind about strange
people. Have you sufficient light?"
And, as she spoke, she touched a cord which set at right angles with
the lower one the upper inside shutter of another window as she had
adjusted the first.
I wrote, two hasty notes, one on further consideration to Captain
Wentworth himself, who might, after all, be at that very time in that
same hotel--"_Quien sabe_?" as Favraud used to say with his significant
shrug, which no Frenchman ever excelled or Spaniard equalled (albeit
they shrug severally).
Pages:
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429