"And that Henderson, what became of him?" now asked John Temple. "Well, after that blow he got, you know, he was very ill. He had brain fever, or something like it, and when he got a little better his mother took him away. They have not been at home all the winter, and Stourton Grange is shut up. Some people say Henderson is in a lunatic asylum, but it may not be true." "He drank, did he not?" said Temple, coldly. "So they said. I can not tell, but I think he never got over the death of that girl." But a moment later Mrs. Temple wished her words unsaid. John Temple rose restlessly and began walking slowly up and down the room, and a few minutes later asked leave to retire. It was more painful even than he had expected, coming back to Woodlea, and he felt that it would be impossible for him to remain. In the meanwhile the news of his arrival had reached Woodside Farm. One of Mr. Churchill's neighbors had called during the evening, and told Mr. Churchill, not without motives of curiosity, that he had seen "the new squire at the station." "What! are you sure?" asked Mr. Churchill, eagerly. "Quite sure," answered the neighbor; "I went to the station about getting the turnip seed, and saw one of the Hall carriages standing there. I know the coachman, and I asked if anyone was expected, and he said Mr. John Temple, the new Squire, was coming home from foreign parts, and he was waiting for him." "And," said Mr. Churchill, with faltering tongue, and his bronzed face grew a little pale, "did you see him arrive?" "Yes, I thought I might just as well hang about till the train came in; I was waiting for the seed, you see; and when the train did come, Mr. John Temple came with it, and he got into the carriage from the Hall and drove away." "And was he alone?" asked Mr. Churchill, with scarcely suppressed agitation. "Yes, quite alone; he had no servant or nothing. The porter carried his portmanteau to the carriage; I am quite certain he had no one with him." Mr. Churchill asked no more questions. He also now understood the motive of his neighbor's call, but he was not a man to gratify idle curiosity. He drew in his firm lips; he made up his mind at once to see John Temple. He did not even tell his wife the news he had just heard. Mrs. Churchill had more than once annoyed him by the way she had spoken, or rather insinuated, her doubts concerning May's marriage. So he was determined to say nothing more about it until he knew the true cause of May's long silence and absence.