I can't help it; but I am
oppressed with a nervous dread of some impending trouble."
They passed the early hours of the evening as best they could,
seeking to divert each other's thoughts. It had been long since
the kind old banker was so garrulous, and Helen resolved to reward
him by keeping up. Indeed, she shrank from retiring, feeling that
through the sleepless night she would be the prey of all sorts of
wretched fancies. Never once did her wildest thoughts suggest what
had happened, or warn her of the tempest soon to rage in her
breast.
Then came the late messenger with the landlord's copied note. She
snatched it from the bearer's hand before he could ring the bell,
for her straining ears had heard his step even on the gravel walk.
Tremblingly she tore open, the envelope in the hall without
looking at the address.
"Mr. Jackson said how I was to give it to your father," protested
the messenger.
"Well, well," responded Mr. Kemble, perturbed and anxious, "I'm
here. You can go unless there's an answer required.'
"Wasn't told nothin' 'bout one," growled the departing errand-boy.
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