“Oh, dear, it’s getting toward dark, now, and so you’ll have to put it off till morning. But you _will_ find him in the morning, _won’t_ you? Promise.” “I’ll have him here by daylight.” “Oh, _now_ you’re your own old self again—and lovelier than ever!” “I couldn’t ask fairer than that. Good-bye, dear.” Sally mused a moment alone, then said earnestly, “I love him in _spite_ of his name!” and went about her affairs with a light heart. CHAPTER XXV. Hawkins went straight to the telegraph office and disburdened his conscience. He said to himself, “She’s not going to give this galvanized cadaver up, that’s plain. Wild horses can’t pull her away from him. I’ve done my share; it’s for Sellers to take an innings, now.” So he sent this message to New York: “_Come back. Hire special train. She’s going to marry the materializee_.” Meantime a note came to Rossmore Towers to say that the Earl of Rossmore had just arrived from England, and would do himself the pleasure of calling in the evening. Sally said to herself, “It is a pity he didn’t stop in New York; but it’s no matter; he can go up to-morrow and see my father. He has come over here to tomahawk papa, very likely—or buy out his claim. This thing would have excited me, a while back; but it has only one interest for me now, and only one value. I can say to—to—Spine, Spiny, Spinal—I don’t like any _form_ of that name!—I can say to him to-morrow, ‘_Don’t_ try to keep it up any more, or I shall have to tell you whom I have been talking with last night, and then you will be embarrassed.’” Tracy couldn’t know he was to be invited for the morrow, or he might have waited. As it was, he was too miserable to wait any longer; for his last hope—a letter—had failed him. It was fully due to-day; it had not come. Had his father really flung him away? It looked so. It was not like his father, but it surely looked so. His father was a rather tough nut, in truth, but had never been so with his son—still, this implacable silence had a calamitous look. Anyway, Tracy would go to the Towers and —then what? He didn’t know; his head was tired out with thinking—he wouldn’t think about what he must do or say—let it all take care of itself. So that he saw Sally once more, he would be satisfied, happen what might; he wouldn’t care. He hardly knew how he got to the Towers, or when. He knew and cared for only one thing—he was alone with Sally. She was kind, she was gentle, there was moisture in her eyes, and a yearning something in her face and manner which she could not wholly hide—but she kept her distance. They talked. Bye and bye she said—watching his downcast countenance out of the corner of her eye—