Mrs. Wade caught his hand.
"Are you bent on doing the hopeless thing?"
"Let us talk in the carriage. I can't wait any longer."
But in the carriage both kept silence. Mrs. Wade, exhausted by
stress of emotion, by the efforts of her scheming brain, lay back as
if she had abandoned the contest; Denzil, his face working
ceaselessly, stared through the windows. When they were nearing
their destination, the widow leaned towards him.
"I have done my best for you. I have nothing so much at heart as
your welfare--and Lilian's."
He pressed her hand, too much disturbed to think of the singular way
in which she spoke. Then the vehicle stopped. Denzil assisted his
companion to alight, and, whilst she was opening the house-door,
bade the coachman go up and down till he was summoned. Then he
sprang after Mrs. Wade, learnt from her where Lilian was, and at
once tried to enter the sitting-room. The door was locked.
"Lily!" he called, in a low voice. "Open, dear! It is I!"
The key turned rapidly. He rushed in, and clasped Lilian in his
arms. She could not utter a word, but clung to him sobbing and
wailing.
"Don't!--don't, dear girlie! Try to be quiet--try to command
yourself."
"Can you do anything?" she uttered at length. "Is there any hope?"
"What do you wish, Lily, dearest? What shall I do?"
The common sense of manliness urged him to put no such questions, to
carry her away without a word, save of tender devotion, to escape
with her into quietness, and let all else go as it would.
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