This bit of paper had been given him by Millie, who, acting upon Winnie's advice, had made to Alan a very meek confession of the part she had unwittingly played in the drama just enacted.

"Of course, sir, he came in when I went to call Miss Winnie," she had said contritely. "But oh, he did look so sorrowful, and then that curl of hair! I was so sure it was something about Miss Daisy."

Alan had listened gravely, had glanced at the bit of paper, and then dismissed her with a kind word and a smile, and without a reprimand.

When this unexpected escape had been joyfully reported to Winnie French, that stony-hearted damsel elevated her nose and said:

"Umph! so the man has a grain of something besides pride in him somewhere. Well, I'm glad to hear it."

To which Millie had replied, warmly:

"Why, Miss Winnie! Think how he fought to protect that poor organ man, who had come to rob him, maybe, though I can't think it. _That_ was splendid in him, anyhow."

And this had reminded Winnie that she was not indulging in a soliloquy.

So, having charged Millie to say nothing about the events of the afternoon, she dismissed her, and sat sadly down to peruse Leslie's farewell note once more.

DEAREST WINNIE.

I am going away to-night; I must go. Yesterday I was about to tell you my story; if you had heard it then, you would understand now why I go. Since yesterday, I have decided to keep my burden still strapped to my own shoulders.

In fact, to make you my confidante now would look to others, perhaps to you, like an attempt to justify my acts. One favor I ask, Winnie; when I return, if I do return, let me find you here.

Continue to call my house, for it is my house, your home. I have asked your mother to share it with you, and to be in every sense of the word its mistress, until Daisy is found, or I return. Mr.

Follingsbee will regulate all business matters. Trust me still, and don't desert me. Winnie, for time or for eternity, farewell.

LESLIE

Filled with wonder and sorrow, Winnie sat musing over this strange note, when she received a message from Alan: would she come to him in the library; it was a matter of importance.

Rightly guessing that he wished to talk of Leslie, Winnie arose and went slowly down to the library, a gleam of resentment shining through the tears that would fill her eyes.

Not long before she had refused to talk or to listen. But now she must know why Leslie had gone. She was anxious to face Alan Warburton.

His manner, as he came forward to receive her, had undergone a change, and his first words were so startlingly like those last words of Leslie's, that Winnie's tongue failed to furnish the prompt sarcasm usually ready to meet whatever he might choose to utter.

He was standing by a large chair as she entered the library, and moving this a trifle forward, he said simply, and with just such a gravely courteous tone as he might use in addressing a stranger:

"Be seated, Miss French."

Winnie sank into the proffered chair, and he draws back a few paces, and standing thus before her, began:

"Not long since I asked you to listen to me, and then to decide between another and myself. I do not repeat this request, for I cannot stand before you and accuse a woman who is not here to speak in her own defence. Although I did not read that note you proffered me, I have satisfied myself that Mrs. Warburton has gone."

"Yes," sighed Winnie.

"She planned her flight, if flight it can be called, very skilfully.

Everything in her apartments indicates deliberate preparation. She took no baggage; no one knows how or when she quitted the house. But she left two letters--two besides that written to you. One is addressed to Mr.

Follingsbee; the other is for your mother."

"Yes," sighed Winnie once more.

"These letters," continued Alan, "must be delivered at once, and they should not be entrusted to the hands of servants. And now, Miss French, that letter, your letter, which you proffered me in a moment of excitement, I will not ask to see. But tell me, does it give you any idea of her destination? Does it contain anything that I may know?"

A leaden weight seemed fastened upon Winnie's facile tongue. Something in her throat threatened to choke her. She put her hand in her pocket, slowly drew out Leslie's letter, and silently proffered it to Alan.

"Do you wish me to read it?"

She nodded, and lifted her hand to brush two big tears from her cheeks with a petulant motion.

A moment he stood looking at her intently, an expression of tenderness creeping into his face. Then he drew back a pace, and his lips settled again into firm lines as he began the perusal of Leslie's letter.

Having read the missive slowly through for the second time, Alan refolded it and gravely returned it to Winnie.

"Thank you," he said, in a subdued tone. "I am quite well aware, Miss French, that no word of mine can influence you in the slightest degree.

Were this not so, I would beg most earnestly that you would comply, in every respect, with the wishes Mrs. Warburton has expressed."

While he perused the letter, Winnie had somewhat recovered herself, and she now looked up quickly.

"In every respect? Mr. Warburton, that note says--'trust me; do not desert me.'"

"And I say the same. To-day Leslie Warburton needs a true friend as much--as much as ever woman did."

He was about to say, "as much as I do," but pride stepped in and stopped the words ere they could pa.s.s his lips.

There was silence for a moment, and then he said:

"We must find Leslie if possible, of course, but not until we have seen her lawyer and consulted him. It is growing late, but time is precious.

Will you let me take you to your mother's at once? You can give her Leslie's letter, and consult together. Meantime, I will drive to see Follingsbee, and call for you on my return. Of course your mother will accompany you; at least I trust so. And, Miss French, let me a.s.sure you, here and now, that should you continue to honor this house with your presence, you will not be further annoyed by my importunities. To-night, for the first time, I fully realize that I have no right to ask any woman to share a fate that is, to say the least, under a cloud; or to take upon herself a name that may be at any moment dishonored before the world. Shall I order the carriage? Will you go, Miss French?"

There was something masterful in his stern self-command his ability to think and act with such prompt.i.tude and forethought, and it had its effect upon Winnie.

"I will go," she said, rising and turning toward the door.

"Thank you," he said, then hastened to open it.

When she had pa.s.sed out, he returned to his old position, and once more glanced down at the piece of paper which all the while he had retained in his hand. It was the note flung at Millie's feet by the fleeing organ-grinder, and it contained these words:

If Alan Warburton will call on Mr. Follingsbee as soon as possible, he will find there a communication from a friend. It is important that he should receive this at once.

No name, no date, no signature, but it explains why Millie escaped without a reprimand.

CHAPTER XLI.

LESLIE GOES "HOME."