But Leo did not go into the library. The library was snug and comfortable--the most comfortable room in the house,--but it commanded no view. The high trees of the shrubbery shut out the park beyond; and the short, straight road to the village, the road by which every one was coming and going now, was also entirely hidden. When Maud reappeared, the watcher was still at her post,--but as she was in the act of putting down the open window--(perhaps she had heard an approaching step?)--remonstrance was not renewed. Instead, Maud came and looked herself. "It is very strange of Paul;" she mused aloud. No word from Paul had yet come, and now we can guess why Leo stood where she did. "He mayn't have got the telegram;" she adventured. "It would have been returned if he had not. Besides, Dr. Craig said it would be delivered last night, and Paul was not likely to be out at night." Still the hours passed, and no answer came. Nor did any come the next day, and the next. "You are sure about the address, I suppose?" queried Sue, at last. She had not liked to make the suggestion before, since Maud, correct to a degree, was apt to resent any suspicion of carelessness or inaccuracy,--but the outlook was growing serious. A fresh telegram had been despatched, and Paul had also been written to,--it was inexplicable that he should remain silent, unless a mistake had been made somewhere. "I am quite sure;" replied Maud briefly, and no more was said. It was the evening of the third day, and darkness was falling outside. Leo, who had been waiting for this, had stolen outside, permitted, even urged thereto, by Sue, touched and consoled by what she took for a reflex of her own grief upon her young sister's face--and she had got some way from the house, when, in the deepening shadows beyond, she saw Paul coming. Her first impulse was as usual to fly, but a second brought her swiftly to his side. She must see, must hear, must know at once--a maddening curiosity prevailed over every other feeling. And it was immediately, if superficially met. He was eager to explain--while looking back on it she could not see that he had explained anything. He had received no communication, he had heard no tidings till the same day at noon, and had started by the first train, which he had barely had time to catch. So far all was clear, but the how or the why was left untouched,--and he was hurriedly asking _her_ to speak, begging for information, ejaculating expressions of sympathy, and reiterating regrets all the way back to the house, as if he found it impossible to take in all the sad details, for she was asked the same questions over and over again.