"And who knows what may happen?" he thought. "That woman," and his brow darkened, "is not likely to lead, or to go on leading, an immaculate life. I may be able to get a divorce, and the moment I can I will marry May. My dear little May, if I have wronged you, it was because I loved you so well." So thinking of her tenderly, fondly, he arrived at Pembridge Terrace, and when he entered the dining-room where the two sisters were alone, they both almost at once exclaimed: "Where is Mrs. John?" "She is not very well, I'm sorry to say," answered John Temple, "and I persuaded her to stay at the hotel, and let me come on alone to you. I am going to take her to-morrow for a day or two to the sea, as we both want a little change, I think, and I have come to tell you this, and ask if you will kindly let your maid pack a few things that May will require, and I will take them back in the cab with me?" "Well, this is sudden!" cried Miss Webster. "But she is not ill, is she?" inquired kindly Miss Eliza. "No, but she was tired, so I thought she was better where she was than driving through the streets. She will write to you to-morrow, most likely, and I scarcely know how to thank you for all your kindness to her--poor child." There was a tender ring in John's voice as he said the last two words that both the gentle-hearted women noticed. "It has been a great pleasure to us to have her here," said Miss Webster. "She's a sweet flower," sighed Miss Eliza. "She's a dear girl," said John Temple; and for a moment--just a moment--a sort of moisture stole over his gray eyes. After this Miss Webster hurried out of the room, to pack, or superintend the packing of, what she thought May would require during her few days' proposed excursion to the sea. Thus Miss Eliza was left to entertain John Temple, which she found by no means easy to do. He was absent-minded and silent, and rose quickly when Miss Webster and the maid returned with May's packed portmanteau. "I have put everything in I thought she would want," said Miss Webster; "but if I have forgotten anything, if she will telegraph I will send it at once." "I am sure it is all right," said John, and he held out his hand to Miss Webster, thinking that most likely it would be the last time for years that he would press that kindly palm. "Good-by, Miss Webster; good-by, Miss Eliza; and thank you for all your great kindness." He left the house a few minutes later, and it was strange that both the sisters were somewhat impressed by his manner. "He looked very serious," said Miss Webster. "I am sure I hope nothing is wrong?" "Perhaps it has come out about their marriage, and he has quarreled with his uncle?" suggested Miss Eliza. In the meanwhile John Temple was driving back to his hotel, his thoughts still dwelling very tenderly on May. "I will make it all up to her," he was thinking; "my little Mayflower shall never regret her choice, nor her love."