There was always hanging over
him the dread horror of what he had done, and the fearful questioning as
to how it was all going to end.
Friday came, but a telegram at the last moment told of trains delayed
and connections missed. Hannah Jane would not reach home until nine-
forty the next morning. So it was with a four-seated carryall that
Thaddeus Clayton started for the station on Saturday morning to meet
both of his children and their families.
The ride home was a silent one; but once inside the house, Jehiel and
Hannah Jane, amid a storm of sobs and cries, besieged their father with
questions.
The family were all in the darkened sitting-room--all, indeed, save
Harriet, who sat in solitary state in the chamber above, her face pale
and her heart beating almost to suffocation. It had been arranged that
she was not to be seen until some sort of explanation had been given.
"Father, what was it?" sobbed Hannah Jane. "How did it happen?"
"It must have been so sudden," faltered Jehiel. "It cut me up
completely."
"I can't ever forgive myself," moaned Hannah Jane hysterically. "She
wanted us to come East, and I wouldn't. 'Twas my selfishness--'twas
easier to stay where I was; and now--now--"
"We've been brutes, father," cut in Jehiel, with a shake in his voice;
"all of us.
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