At first she felt no fear, and kept saying to herself and to Gilbert--to whom, of course, she talked of all that was in her heart--that she would see her father to-morrow or next day; but to-morrow became to-day, and next day to-morrow, and yet he did not appear. And there was nothing from him--not a single line! Gilbert, lover-like, did his utmost to cheer her, saying what was obviously probable--her father had been unexpectedly delayed, but would be here very soon, and so on--and he spoke with such cheeriness that she gained some confidence from his. But as the days sped by, and Morris Thornton came not nor sent word, her apprehensions increased, and all Gilbert's loving speeches could not allay them. Gilbert, too, began to wonder not a little what it all meant. It at length became evident to him that there was something peculiarly significant in the non-appearance and silence of Morris Thornton. He spoke what was in his mind to his father, who, in reply, told him the only hypothesis he could form was that Thornton had fallen ill at some point in the course of the journey, though that did not account for nothing being heard of him. Gilbert now learned for the first time of the precarious state of Thornton's health. He agreed with his father that nothing should be said about it to Kitty, as it could not but add to her anxiety. But what Gilbert had heard made him comply all the more eagerly with a suggestion Kitty offered on the next Sunday, when they were talking on this subject, which temporarily had assumed more importance almost than their love. This was that a cablegram should be sent to Vancouver to Morris Thornton, asking when she was to expect to see him in London. Gilbert despatched the cablegram for her from the Central Telegraph Office in the Strand, on his return to town late that evening. No answer was received by the girl till far on in the afternoon of Monday. The first thing she noticed on looking at the reply message was that it was not signed by her father, but by his local agent. Then she read the whole cablegram, which ran-- "Your father sailed from New York for Southampton by _St. Louis_, July 21. No further advices. Wallace." "July 21," said Kitty to herself. "Why, he ought to have been here a week ago at least." For it was now Monday, August 9th! Eighteen days had elapsed since the sailing of the _St. Louis_ from New York, on July 21st! CHAPTER IX What was the explanation? Kitty wondered, much perplexed. Her father had left Vancouver and had gone to New York--so she gathered from the cablegram. And as he had not been to see her she concluded that he could not be in England, and that meant in the circumstances that he had not sailed from New York on the 21st of July as he had intended. Gilbert had suggested to her that her father had been unexpectedly detained, and at first, as this seemed a probable solution of the problem, she was inclined to think this was what had occurred.