"It may be so, but--it was not thus that I regarded her. However, if your news be true--if poor Kathleen is indeed dead--I will, of course, at once remarry May. She knows, I suppose, that you are here; knows why you came?" "She knows nothing. I have not seen her since Miss Weir's death." "And where is she living now?" "At St. Phillip's Hospital. She has never left it. She is now one of the nursing sisters there; she insisted on working for her daily bread." For a few moments after this Temple did not speak. He stood with knitted brows as if in thought. Then he held out his hand to Webster. "I am very grateful to you," he said; "grateful to you for coming to tell me all this; and for your kindness--to the poor girl to whom I did so great a wrong. But I will be honest with you; I believed May loved me so well that even had I told her of that early tie--broken years ago--that she still would have shared my fortunes. I judged her feelings by my own--but it seems I was mistaken." Webster did not speak; he cast down his eyes; an angry throb passed through his heart. "However, we need not speak of this," continued Temple after a moment's pause. "There is now but one course for me to take, which is at once to go to her, and for us to be immediately remarried. Her father is in London at this very time seeking her--he did not believe as I did." Still Webster was silent. "I shall, therefore," went on John Temple, "at once telegraph to him that she is safe and well. As for you, Mr. Webster, I do not know how to thank you." "I need no thanks," answered Webster a little hoarsely. "I have the highest regard and liking for your aunts, and I hope now my poor little May will welcome them here. And you--you will dine and stay all night here?" But Webster shook his head. "No," he said, "I must return by the next train to town; my mission here is ended--I will see--" "May? Then I will travel with you. Yes, kindly see her, and break the news to her of poor Kathleen's death. But I feel yet as if I can scarcely forgive May. If she wished to leave me she might have done so; not cost me such bitter pain." "We will not discuss it." "No, it is useless. And now, Mr. Webster, will you kindly excuse me for a few minutes? I will ring for some refreshments for you, and if you really must return by the next train to town, it passes our station at a quarter to six;" and John Temple looked at his watch. "I will go with you, and to-morrow--you will see May?" "Yes." "Then that is all settled. I will rejoin you in a few minutes; I wish to tell my news to my uncle's widow, and, Mr. Webster, I may depend on your honor, I am sure, to keep all this a secret." "You may quite depend upon me," answered Webster, a little bitterly. After this John Temple left the room, and went straight to the morning-room, where he expected to find Mrs. Temple. She was there, looking pale and agitated, and she went forward quickly to meet him.