'I am searching everywhere for a letter--a note from Mr. St. Cleeve--just
a few words telling me when the _Occidental_ sails, that I think he goes
in.'
'Why do you want that unimportant document?'
'It is of the utmost importance that I should know whether he has
actually sailed or not!' said she in agonized tones. 'Where _can_ that
letter be?'
Louis knew where that letter was, for having seen it on her desk he had,
without reading it, torn it up and thrown it into the waste-paper basket,
thinking the less that remained to remind her of the young philosopher
the better.
'I destroyed it,' he said.
'O Louis! why did you?' she cried. 'I am going to follow him; I think it
best to do so; and I want to know if he is gone--and now the date is
lost!'
'Going to run after St. Cleeve? Absurd!'
'Yes, I am!' she said with vehement firmness. 'I must see him; I want to
speak to him as soon as possible.'
'Good Lord, Viviette! Are you mad?'
'O what was the date of that ship! But it cannot be helped. I start at
once for Southampton. I have made up my mind to do it. He was going to
his uncle's solicitors in the North first; then he was coming back to
Southampton. He cannot have sailed yet.'
'I believe he has sailed,' muttered Louis sullenly.
She did not wait to argue with him, but returned upstairs, where she rang
to tell Green to be ready with the pony to drive her to Warborne station
in a quarter of an hour.