One morning, at the end of January, Dr. Macrae received a batch of London newspapers. They were brought to the breakfast table, and he looked at their number and wondered. He did not seem to understand what they portended, but Mrs. Caird did. Some womanly instinct told her what information they brought, and when Macrae did not come to the dinner table she said softly to Marion, "Lady Cramer is married. I wonder how he will bear it."
In the middle of the afternoon she took some coffee into the Minister's study, and at his request sat down beside him. "Stay an hour with me, Jessy," he said. "I am in trouble."
"I know, Ian."
"She is married."
Jessy nodded slightly, and said: "I know. My dear Ian, you were but a little child in the hands of Adalaide Cramer. Very likely she thought she loved you."
"I think she did love me."
"Whom has she married?"
"The Duke of Rotherham."
"She had a great temptation, but no doubt she suffered in giving you up, even for a dukedom."
"She ought to suffer. I wish her to suffer."