Let him be
sent for, and ask him to come without delay."
In this, the crowning sorrow of his life, he could not stand
alone. He must have some one to think and to plan for him, some
one to help him bear the burden that seemed too heavy for him to
carry. Some one must see the unhappy man who had written that
letter, and it should be a kinsman of his own.
Not the brave, sad young lover, fighting alone with his sorrow
he must never know the tragedy of that brief life, to him her
memory must be sacred and untarnished, unmarred by the knowledge
of her folly.
Lady Helena was not long in discovering Lionel Dacre's
whereabouts. One of the footmen who had attended him to the
station remembered the name of the place for which he had taken a
ticket. Lady Helena knew that Sir William Greston lived close
by, and she sent at once to his house.
Fortunately the messenger found him. Startled and horrified by
the news, Lionel lost no time in returning. He could not realize
that his beautiful young cousin was really dead. Her face, in
its smiling brightness, haunted him. Her voice seemed to mingle
with the wild clang of the iron wheels.
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