"Well?"
"Miss Vaughan refuses to go to the Royces', Swain."
There was a moment's silence.
"Then where will she go?"
"She won't go anywhere."
"You don't mean," he cried, panic in his voice, "that she's going to
stay out there?"
"Yes; she laughed when I mentioned danger. There's one
consolation--the servants will stay."
"Did you tell her how anxious I was for her?"
"Yes; I did my best, Swain."
"And it made no difference?"
"No; it made no difference. The fact is, Swain, I fancy she's a little
remorseful about her father--his death has unnerved her--and there was
the funeral to-day--and, as a sort of atonement, she's trying to do
what she imagines he would wish her to do."
"He wished her to become a priestess," said Swain, his voice ghastly.
"Oh, well, she won't go that far," I assured him cheerfully; "and no
doubt in a few days, when the first impression of the tragedy has worn
off, she will be ready to go to the Royces'. I'll keep suggesting it,
and I'm going to have Mrs. Royce call on her."
"Thank you, Mr. Lester," he said, but his voice was still shaking.
"I--this sort of knocks me out--I hadn't foreseen it.
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