"She would never have acted so. And
she would never have let father send Anne away."
Miss Drayton sighed. Was it not sad and pitiful enough to have that poor
little orphan lost? Must her dead sister's husband be estranged from his
only son?
Pat stood silent while Miss Drayton told his father the story of their
journey. Mr. Patterson listened--surprised at first, then vexed. Now and
then, he interrupted with brief, pointed questions. The answers left him
anxious, distressed. Presently he took off his eyeglasses and put his
hand up as if to shade his eyes from the light. When the tale was
finished, there was a brief silence. A gentle breeze rustled the
elm-tree at the window. A carriage clattered past. A newsboy shouting
"Papers!" ran down the quiet street.
Mr. Patterson dropped his hand. His lashes were wet with tears. "Lord!"
he said in a broken voice. "Can I ever forgive myself?"
Pat started forward with tears in his eyes. "Father!" he cried.
"Dear--old--dad! We'll find her yet."
Mr. Patterson seized the outstretched hand and held it close. "God grant
it," he said. "My son, my son!"
CHAPTER XXI
Meanwhile, where was Anne? Was she as forlorn and miserable in reality
as her friends fancied? Let us see.
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