CHAPTER XIV.

A CRY IN THE NIGHT.

Quite unconscious of the episode of the ring, and deeply grieved at Laurie’s abrupt departure, his aunt accompanied him down to the door, with many injunctions to return as soon as possible.

“But Lelia--she has not bidden you good-by yet, Laurie.”

“Oh, yes, we have had our parting. She is probably grieving in her room now. You must comfort her when I am gone,” he replied, with a bitter laugh, kissing her good-by, and running down the steps to the trap that stood waiting.

Something in his bitter tone struck coldly on her heart, and she thought, in dismay:

“Oh, dear, perhaps they have quarreled over something or other. No, I will not try to comfort her, that would be beyond my power. But, oh, dear, what a cat-and-dog life they are going to lead together, these two, always quarreling and making up again.”

Lelia, sulking in her room and planning vindictively how she would make Laurie jealous this evening flirting with Warren Beihl, dreamed not of the flight of her victim till she appeared, radiantly beautiful, in the parlor just before tea, where all the guests were assembled.

“We are all here except Mr. Willoughby--where is he?” inquired the vivacious Mrs. Thurston.

“Laurie?” said the hostess. “Why, didn’t Lelia tell you he has suddenly been called away to town? He went by the afternoon train, hours ago.”

Involuntarily, they all looked at Lelia, who was so startled out of her composure that a cry of dismay burst from her lips.

She became death-white, too, and leaned back heavily in her chair for support.

Every one saw that she had received a shock by the pallor of her face and the uncontrollable cry that had leaped to her lips.

Bessie Hall exclaimed rashly:

“Didn’t you know he was gone, Lelia?”

With an effort, the pale girl forced herself to speak, but her voice sounded strained and unnatural:

“Of course, I knew it, and I may as well tell you all the truth. Laurie and I have quarreled, and I have broken our engagement.”

She tossed her queenly golden head in seeming indifference, but it deceived no one. They all saw that she was cut to the heart by his departure. She had not expected anything like this. She had intended to hold him off at arm’s length a while, and punish him till he was thoroughly miserable, then take him back again.

She was frightened and dismayed by the unexpected move he had made in the game of hearts they were playing.

But she would not let any one see her dismay. She smiled around on them gaily, and, after their first start of surprise, they all smiled, too, and began to predict that there would soon be a reconciliation.

“I am not so sure of that. He will be coming back, I know, soon, but I am not certain that I will ever wear his ring again,” the beauty said haughtily, and somehow her careless glance encountered Warren Beihl’s, and she bridled at the tenderness of his glance.

Here was another heart at her feet, ready to amuse her until Laurie returned to his allegiance. She would make the most of it.

But how lonely her finger felt without the big, flashing diamond that she had given him back. She missed it as she missed him, with an angry ache at the bottom of her heart.

Somehow, she got through the evening, but it seemed so dull and blank she was thankful that every one seemed tired from the day’s outing, and retired early to rest. She was eager to escape to her own room, to let loose the pent-up rage and resentment at Laurie’s flight that seethed in her breast.

It was the worst of ill-luck that she encountered Mrs. Goodwill going along the corridor.

“Ah, nurse,” she said carelessly, “how is your patient getting on? Almost well, I suppose?”

Mrs. Goodwill stopped short, to feast her eager eyes on Lelia’s beauty and rich attire.

“Oh, yes, thank you, Miss Ritchie, she has been able to sit up in her easy chair and see company, and I never saw such rapid improvement in anybody as in her to-day. Her eyes are that bright and her cheeks that red she looks almost well again.”

“Company!” sneered Lelia. “Who would be visiting that girl, pray?”

“Only the family, of course, miss,” the nurse returned humbly. “Miss Willoughby sat with her a good part of the day--and Mr. Willoughby came in for a while this afternoon, to bid his aunt and her good-by.”

She was startled at the lightning that flashed into Lelia’s eyes.

“Ah, indeed?” she cried, in a hoarse, rasping tone, adding sharply: “So the visits made your patient well, and you are going to spend the night in your own room?”

“Yes, ma’am; she said she did not need me, she would rather be alone,” said Mrs. Goodwill, dropping a curtsy and passing on, but afterward Lelia’s question recurred with haunting persistency to her mind.

She saw her turn back and enter her aunt’s room, as if for a chat--a bedtime habit she had. It was perhaps an hour later that the sleepers at The Crags were all startled from rest by two loud, ringing shrieks from the direction of Gipsy Darke’s room.