“Yours most sincerely,
”Kathleen Weir.”
There was no longer any doubt in Ralph Webster’s mind after he had read this letter as to the identity of the John Temple who had married two women. But there was a doubt; a strange vivid doubt as to how he should act under such painful circumstances. Before him rose the sweet, girlish face of May Churchill, with her glad eyes and quiet happiness; and then he thought of the change this cruel news would bring. The light would fade from her eyes, and the color from her smooth cheeks, and a crushing sense of shame and sorrow overshadow her young life. He tried to put his own feelings out of the question. The passionate beating of his heart he would not listen to.
“I must think what would be best for her,” he told himself; “but at all events I will go and see Harrison, and learn the whole story, as far as he knows of it.”
Mr. Harrison, the solicitor, was a personal acquaintance of his own. He had given him a couple of briefs, and they always exchanged friendly nods when they met. He only needed some slight excuse to pay Harrison a visit, and he soon found one on some point of law which he affected not quite to understand.
The solicitor received him almost with effusion. He was a little bustling man, and had a large business, and a rising barrister was always a person of consideration to him. He had not seen Webster since Kathleen Weir’s diamond case had been in court, and he quickly proceeded to compliment Webster on the way he had conducted the cross-examination of the maid.
“Ah, very good, very good indeed, Mr. Webster,” he said rubbing his hands together to express his satisfaction. “You tackled her splendidly, and it was a somewhat awkward affair for the handsome actress unless it had been cleared up. Very good-looking woman Miss Kathleen Weir, though of course, that isn’t her real name.”
“Is it not?” answered Webster, trying not to show his eager interest.
“No, no, no; there’s a bit of romance connected with Miss Weir’s life that, strange to say, I’ve been connected with for some years. She’s a married woman in fact; married to a certain Mr. John Temple, who is a client of ours; but they are separated by mutual consent, and Mr. Temple allows her a fair income to live on, but, of course, she does not need it; I am told she commands high prices on the stage, but still it is only right that Mr. John Temple should allow her something.”
“Mr. John Temple,” repeated Webster, quietly; “is that the man who became heir to a large fortune not long ago, by the death of his young cousin during a game of football?”