Then came the late messenger with the landlord’s copied note.  She snatched it from the bearer’s hand before he could ring the bell, for her straining ears had heard his step even on the gravel walk.  Tremblingly she tore open, the envelope in the hall without looking at the address.

“Mr. Jackson said how I was to give it to your father,” protested the messenger.

“Well, well,” responded Mr. Kemble, perturbed and anxious, “I’m here.  You can go unless there’s an answer required.’

“Wasn’t told nothin’ ’bout one,” growled the departing errand-boy.

“Give the note to me, Helen,” said her father.  “Why do you stare at it so?”

She handed it to him without a word, but looked searchingly in his face, and so did his wife, who had joined him.

“Why, this is rather strange,” he said.

“I think it is,” added Helen, emphatically.

Mrs. Kemble took the note and after a moment ejaculated:  “Well, thank the Lord! it isn’t about Hobart.”

“No, no,” said the banker, almost irritably.  “We’ve all worried about Hobart till in danger of making fools of ourselves.  As if people never get sick and send for relatives, or as if letters were never delayed!  Why, bless me! haven’t we heard to-day that he was well? and hasn’t Jackson, who knows more about other people’s business than his own, been considerate enough to say that his request has nothing to do with Hobart?  It is just as he says, some one is sick and wants to arrange about money matters before banking hours to-morrow.  There, it isn’t far.  I’ll soon be back.”

“Let me go with you, father,” pleaded Helen.  “I can stay with Mrs. Jackson or sit in the parlor till you are through.”

“Oh, no, indeed.”

“Papa, I am going with you,” said Helen, half-desperately.  “I don’t believe I am so troubled for nothing.  Perhaps it’s a merciful warning, and I may be of use to you.”

“Oh, let her go, father,” said his wife.  “She had better be with you than nervously worrying at home.  I’ll be better satisfied if she is with you.”

“Bundle up well, then, and come along, you silly little girl.”

Nichol was too agreeably occupied with his supper to miss Hobart, who watched in the darkened parlor for the coming of Mr. Kemble.  At last he saw the banker passing through the light streaming from a shop-window, and also recognized Helen at his side.  His ruse in sending a note purporting to come from the landlord had evidently failed; and here was a new complication.  He was so exhausted in body and mind that he felt he could not meet the girl now without giving way utterly.  Hastily returning to the room in which were Nichol and Jackson, he summoned the latter and said, “Unfortunately, Miss Kemble is coming with her father.  Keep your counsel; give me a light in another private room; detain the young lady in the parlor, and then, bring Mr. Kemble to me.”