One glance at the bed showed her that it had not been slept in; another glance around the room told her it was empty.
Mrs. Churchill felt half-frightened. Again she looked around, and this time her eyes fell on a letter lying on the toilet-table. She approached the toilet-table and took up the letter. It was directed to her husband, and it was sealed, and Mrs. Churchill knew at once that something very serious had happened.
She hurried out of the room carrying the letter with her. As she descended the staircase she saw her husband in the hall, about to open the front door, for the purpose of leaving the house.
“William!” she called, and waved the letter, and when Mr. Churchill noticed the expression of her face he at once turned back to meet her.
“Come in here,” she said, opening the dining-room door, and putting her hand on her husband’s arm as she spoke. The dining-room was empty and Mrs. Churchill closed the door behind them.
“William,” she said, when they were alone, “May is not in her room; the bed has never been slept in, and she has left this letter lying on the toilet-table for you.”
“Good heavens! What can be the matter?” exclaimed Mr. Churchill; and he proceeded to tear open the letter, and read it eagerly, while his wife peered over his shoulder trying to do so too.
And this was what he read:
“My Dear Father: You told me once that you did not wish me to remain in your house if I could not treat your wife with the respect which you considered was her due. I find I can not do this; nor can I endure any longer the, to me, odious visits of Mr. Henderson. I am, therefore, going away, and you need not be afraid for my future life. I should not have left you if I did not know that you had someone to look after you and care for you, but this I am sure you have. Be kind to the two dear boys, and believe me to remain still, your affectionate daughter.