“I have been away, but I saw her last Sunday at church.”
This was a bold speech, yet John Temple never faltered as he spoke it. He had made up his mind that these inquiries were sure to be made, and he risked the chance that no one had seen his interviews with May on Sunday or Monday.
At all events he convinced both his uncle and Mr. Churchill that he had nothing to do with May’s disappearance. The farmer thanked him and the squire, and then withdrew, and John and his uncle were left alone.
“It’s a strange business,” said the squire, “but I suppose it is the fault of the new wife. This pretty girl has perhaps gone to try her fortune in London, in preference to living at home in uncongenial company. But it’s a pity.”
“Someone told me, I forget who,” answered John, “that the new wife, as you call her, was bent on marrying this pretty girl to that brute young Henderson. In that case one can not wonder at her running away.”
“Well, I hope she’ll come to no trouble; she’s a very pretty girl.”
“Very,” replied John, laconically, and then he turned away; but his uncle noticed that during the rest of the day there was a cloud upon his brow.
Mr. Churchill, in the meanwhile, had returned home, and had told his news to his wife. May had gone to London alone, and the station-master had seen her off, and a strange boy had taken her trunk to the station.
“Then it has been all planned beforehand!” exclaimed Mrs. Churchill. “How deceitful!”
Mr. Churchill said nothing, and was certainly looking anything but happy.