He had gone in by
railroad, and not by private conveyance as usual. The latest train
had swept shrieking past, full half an hour, when Mrs. Markland
turned sadly from the portico, in which she had for a long time been
stationed, saying to Grace, who had been watching by her side--
"This is very strange! What can keep Edward? Can it be possible that
he has remained in the city all night? I'm very much troubled. He
may be sick."
"More likely," answered Grace, in a fault-finding way, "he's gone
_trapseing_ off to New York again, after that Englishman's business.
I wish he would mind his own affairs."
"He would not have done this without sending us word," replied Mrs.
Markland.
"Oh! I'm not so sure of that. I'm prepared for any thing."
"But it's not like Edward. You know that he is particularly
considerate about such things."
"He used to be. But Edward Markland of last year is not the Edward
Markland of to-day, as you know right well," returned the
sister-in-law.
"I wish you wouldn't speak in that way about Edward any more, Grace.
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