For Hugh Ingelow, his disguise torn off, stood in the door-way,
smiling and serene as the god of safety himself.
Mollie Dane was a creature of impulse--she never stopped to think. One
faint; suppressed cry, one bound forward, and she was in the young man's
arms.
"Hugh! Hugh! Hugh!" she cried, hysterically, clinging to him, "save me!
save me!"
It was the first time she had ever called him other than Mr. Ingelow.
The young man's arms closed around her as if they never would open
again.
"My darling, I have come to save you!"
It had all passed in five seconds, but that short interval was long
enough for Mollie's womanly instincts to take the alarm. She disengaged
herself, reddening violently. What would he think of her? and Mrs.
Sharpe there, too!
"They have driven me nearly out of my senses!" she said, with a sort of
choking sob. "I don't know what I am doing half the time, and I was so
glad to see a friend's familiar face, Mr. Ingelow."
The blue eyes--the eyes of a very child--lifted themselves wistfully,
deprecatingly, shining in tears.
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