The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 17

"Where?"

"She comed into the kitchen, sir."

"After we had gone to bed?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you said nothing just now?"

"No, sir, I didn't like to."

"That will do. Be off," said the old man sternly. "Laura. Here!"

Mrs Lavington followed her brother back into the dining-room.

"The poor child must have been sitting up to watch for Lindon's return."

"And he has not returned, Josiah," sobbed Mrs Lavington.

"Here, stop! What are you going to do?"

"I am going up to his room to see," said the sobbing woman.

Uncle Josiah made no opposition, for he read the mother's thought, and followed her upstairs, where a half-open drawer told tales, and in a few moments Mrs Lavington had satisfied herself.

"I cannot say exactly," she said piteously; "but he has made up a bundle of his things."

"The coward!" cried Uncle Josiah fiercely.

"Gone! Gone! My poor boy!"

"Hush!" cried the old man sternly. "He has sneaked off like a contemptible cur. No, I will not believe it of him," he added impetuously. "Lindon has too much stuff in him to play such a despicable part. You are wrong, Laura. Come down and finish breakfast.

I will not believe it of the boy."

"But he has gone, Josiah, he has gone," sobbed his sister.

"Then if he has, it is the yielding to a sudden impulse, and as soon as he comes to his senses he will return. Lindon will not be such a coward, Laura. Mark my words."

"You are saying this to comfort me," said Mrs Lavington sadly.

"I am saying what I think," cried her brother. "If I thought he had gone right off, I would say so, but I do not think anything of the kind.

He may have thought of doing so last night, but this morning he will repent and come back."

He took his sister's hand gently, and led her downstairs, making her resume her place at the table, and taking his own again, as he made a pretence of going on with his breakfast; but before he had eaten his second mouthful there was a dull heavy thump at the front door.

"There!" cried the old man; "what did I say? Here he is."

Before the front door could be opened, Kitty, who had been awakened by the knock, came in looking scared and strange.

"Don," she said; "I have been asleep. Has he come back?"

"Yes I think this is he," said the old man gently. "Come here, my pet; don't shrink like that. I'm not angry."

"If you please, sir," said Jessie, "here's a woman from the yard."

"Mrs Wimble?"

"Yes, sir; and can she speak to you a minute?"

"Yes, I'll come--no, show her in here. News. An amba.s.sador, Laura,"

said the old man with a grim smile, as Jessie went out. "There, Kitty, my dear, don't cry. It will be all right soon."

At that moment little Mrs Wimble entered, white cheeked, red-eyed, limp and miserable looking, the very opposite of the trim little Sally who lorded it over her patient husband.

"Mrs Wimble!" cried Mrs Lavington, catching the little woman's arm excitedly; "you have brought some news about my son."

"No," moaned Sally, with a pa.s.sionate burst of sobs. "Went out tea-time, and never come back all night."

"Yes, yes, we know that," said Uncle Josiah sternly; "but how did you know?"

"Know, sir? I've been sitting up for him all this dreadful night."

"What, for my nephew?"

"No, sir, for my Jem."

"Lindon--James Wimble!" said Uncle Josiah, as he sank back in his seat.

"Impossible! It can't be true."

CHAPTER TEN.

GONE!

"Speak, woman!" cried Mrs Lavington hoa.r.s.ely; and she shook little Sally by the arm. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, ma'am. I'm in such trouble," sobbed Sally. "I've been a very, very wicked girl--I mean woman. I was always finding fault, and scolding him."

"Why?" asked Uncle Josiah sternly.

"I don't know, sir."

"But he is a quiet industrious man, and I'm sure he is a good husband."

"Yes, he's the best of husbands," sobbed Sally.

"Then why did you scold him?"