"
He threw himself on the bed and tried to sleep, but sleep was
impossible. He only thought the more hotly and wildly. The hours
stretched on and on interminably before he heard the bell ring, and
knew that the carriage had come. Rising hastily, he adjusted his
cassock and his tumbled hair, and went down.
"Perhaps I may find peace at the mass," he sighed with a great
wistfulness.
The fresh, cool air of night was grateful, and as he was driven along
the quiet streets, a new hopefulness came to him. He had supposed that
he was to be taken to Mrs. Wilson's, and when the carriage stopped was
surprised to find himself before a large building which he did not
recognize.
"But I was to meet Mrs. Wilson," he said doubtfully to the footman who
opened the carriage door.
"Mrs. Wilson is here, sir," was the answer. "She said to carry you
here. James is inside to tell you what to do."
A footman was indeed within, waiting for him.
"Mrs. Wilson says will you please come to her, sir," the man said, and
led the way upstairs.
The sound of gay music, growing louder as he advanced, filled Wynne's
ears.
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