"Of course, I did not mean that," she began, but with another bow Mr. Temple left the room, and Mrs. Layton was alone with her daughter, except for the presence of the doctor and the unconscious Henderson, who were quite at the other end of it. "Did I not tell you long ago," hissed Mrs. Layton in her daughter's ear, "what this John Temple was? A viper, a scorpion, and now he's turned and stung you! Oh! that I should ever live to see that upstart here! Margaret Churchill indeed!" "She's not here yet," answered Mrs. Temple, bitterly; "ten to one John Temple will never marry her--why should he?" CHAPTER XXXI. TOO BITTER TO BE BORNE. It was still very early in the day when John Temple left Woodlea, in a state of strong though suppressed excitement. It had come so suddenly, this discovery, this exposure, that he had dreaded far more on May's account than his own. But he must face the situation; he told himself this as he strode across the dewy park, as he went on with rapid steps toward the nearest railway station. He looked at his watch; there was a train passed for the south at a quarter past eleven o'clock, and he made up his mind to endeavor to reach the station in time to travel by this. He had not a moment to spare. On he went with a pale, set face and compressed lips, running a race, as it were, with the train. And as he entered the station the engine puffed up on the metals outside. But John Temple was known to the station-master, and when he called out for a ticket to London, the station-master told him to hurry on the platform, and that he would follow with the ticket. All this happened so quickly that John Temple had little time to think. It was not until he found himself actually in the train, speeding on his way to town, that he began quite to realize what was before him. "Poor May, my poor, sweet May!" he almost groaned. For well he knew that the news he was bearing her would well-nigh break her heart. And he could not now keep it from her. Her father was certain now to find her, and the only thing in John's favor was that he had the start of him. There was not another train south for some hours, and in the meanwhile John determined to see May, to try to induce her to seek a new home in another land. "We can go to Australia," he told himself; "who is to know anything there? and I have enough to live on, and as for Woodlea, what is that to my poor, poor girl?" But it was a terrible task that he had before him, and he shrank from it with utter loathing. "Why was I so weak?" he muttered. "I should have told her the truth. I was led away by her beauty, by her love, and went drifting on, and now she must know everything. But if she loves me best of all it may still come right."