Ballast

A novel, by Myra Swan. 1901

The iron gate leading on to the road stood open. She must, undoubtedly, have gone in and out that way soon after Edward left her. With a growing fear in her heart Grey ran round to the front door. Beaumont was just coming back from the stables.

“She’s not in the church.”

“She must have come in almost immediately, then. She was very tired. I say, have you seen Snooker’s new trick? Here, Snooker; here, boy.”

He seemed quite unconcerned, a different man from what he had been in the morning. Grey walked up the steps into the house, but once out of his sight ran upstairs two steps at a time and searched both Firenze’s bedroom and the Rose Room in vain. Something told her that she would find her at the Harebell.