Elsie sobbed her thanks and became a little hysterical again, and Lady Waveryng made her lie down and drink some coffee, and went away to talk to Frank.
Lady Waveryng managed it all with the most kindly tact. She took Elsie into the little room which had been poor Lord Horace's office, and sent Frank to her. There they were undisturbed.
If Frank found Elsie changed into something sadder, sweeter, and paler than she had been, she on her side was shocked at the ravages anxiety had made in him. He looked oppressed, worn out, with the reddened eyelids of one who has not slept for several nights.
"I was anxious, you know, and I suppose it has told upon me a little," he said clumsily, in answer to her remorseful exclamation. "It has been a horrible week one way and another. And then we have been out a good deal, the black boys and I. I don't know how it is that we did not find you, and that Blake did. We scoured the country about the Falls, and the scrub too, as well as we could; but I knew that Trant was too good a bushman to take you there. But never mind," he added, seeing the look of trouble and perplexity on her face. "I know the whole thing must be painful to you. Lady Waveryng told me so, and I am not going to bother you now about the details. It doesn't matter; nothing matters except that you are here safe and well."
"Oh yes, Frank, everything matters. There is something I must tell you—the sooner the better—which matters very much to you and to me. I've been a wicked girl, Frank. I have acted cruelly to you. I can never forgive myself, never, never."
She leaned over to him as he sat in the office chair by Lord Horace's writing table, his chin resting on his hand, his other hand clenched on the table, the starting veins showing an agitation which his set features concealed. Elsie timidly touched this hand.
"Oh, Frank," she said brokenly, "there is no use in going on. It breaks my heart, but I must tell you."
He opened his hand and took hers in it. "Elsie," he said
