The train by which he had traveled to London had reached the terminus nearly an hour since. The one useful course that I could take, by way of quieting the dreadful misgivings crowding one after another on my mind, was to telegraph to Jeromette at the address at which I had last seen her. I sent the subjoined message--prepaying the reply:
"If you are in any trouble, telegraph to me. I will be with you by the first train. Answer, in any case."There was nothing in the way of the immediate dispatch of my message. And yet the hours passed, and no answer was received. By the advice of the clerk, I sent a second telegram to the London office, requesting an explanation. The reply came back in these terms:
"Improvements in street. Houses pulled down. No trace of person named in telegram."I mounted my horse, and rode back slowly to the rectory.
"The day of his return to me will bring with it the darkest days of my life." . . . . . "I shall die young, and die miserably.