Perhaps she had thought better of it; perhaps she had been prevented; perhaps the whole appointment had been only a trick of some day-scholars, who were laughing at him behind some window.

In proportion as he became convinced that she was not coming, he was conscious of a keen despair growing in his heart, and a sickening remorse that he had ever thought of preventing her.

And when he at last reluctantly reentered the hotel, he was as miserable over the conviction that she was not coming as he had been at her expected arrival.

The porter met him hurriedly in the hall.
"Sister Seraphina of the Sacred Heart has been here, in a hurry to see you on a matter of importance," he said, eyeing Key somewhat curiously.
"She would not wait in the public parlor, as she said her business was confidential, so I have put her in a private sitting-room on your floor." Key felt the blood leave his cheeks.

The secret was out for all his precaution.